As the years went by, Big Mick Lonergan just couldn't perform the way he used to. His doctor told him that it was normal for a man's sexual drive to decrease with advancing years, but Big Mick wasn't having any. He kept pumping away, determined to prove that he remained the man he always was.
But the banshee of Old Age is persistent, and finally Big Mick admitted defeat...of a sort. He was determined to salvage what he could of his dignity.
He went to his doctor, and told the doc that he couldn't stand his sex life like this any more; he wanted to be castrated.
The doctor told Big Mick he didn't think that such drastic measures were called for, but Mick persisted. Finally the doctor agreed to perform the operation.
Two days after the surgery, Mick was sitting in one of the local Irish-style taverns, sucking on a beer and trying to ignore the still-present pain.
In the next booth he overheard part of a conversation: "...an' Oi don't know what's to become of the Parish...Father Sullivan's suggestin' that there's probably nothin' wrong with circumcision...."
"Circumcision!" roared Big Mick Lonergan. "THAT'S the word!"
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