"My God! What happened to you?" the bartender asked Kelly, as he hobbled into the pub on his crutch, one arm in a cast.
"I got in a tiff with Riley."
"Riley? He's just a wee fellow!" said the barkeep surprised. "He must have had something in his hand."
"That he did," Kelly said. "A rusty old shovel it was."
"Dear Lord. Didn't you have anything in your hand?"
"Aye, that I did -- Mrs. Riley's right boob." Kelly said. "And a beautiful thing it was, but not much use in a fight!"