Old Seamus visits the doctor and is told he is dying of cancer and has only a few months to live. He calls his son and invites him to meet him at the pub where he delivers the sad news.
"But son," he says, "even on a gloomy occasion such as this one, 'tis our custom to drink to health and death alike, so let's raise a glass to the good times in our past and drown our sorrows about my impending demise."
The two of them make a fine night of it, matching each other pint for pint, and by midnight they're roaring drunk. Some of Seamus's friends see them drinking and toasting and come over to see what's going on.
"Well, lads," says Seamus, "'Tis a grand shame, but I'm sorry to say, I'm dying o' AIDS."
"But, Da! You dinna have AIDS - you have cancer! Why would you go and tell them a thing like that?"
"Because, son, I don't want those fellas sleeping with your mother when I'm gone!"
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