FOR example, if you ask an Irishman (or woman) for directions, they can't do enough to help, but sometimes they can be too helpful.

Expect long and detailed explanations and often amusing responses, like, "not the first, not second but I tink take the turd turn on the left," but then adding, "after that you'll have to ask somebody else because I've never been out there."

Yes, the Irish are famous for giving bamboozling instructions and their road signs don't always face the intended direction.

ON a ferry, the playful Irish captain gave us the mandatory safety instructions, telling passengers: there was a life-raft on the roof, "which should float if the ferry sinks and it should be big enough for all of you."

Then he said if we see him and the two crew members put on life jackets and run out to the front of the boat we have two choices.

"You can get up, grab a lifejacket and follow me, or you can go to the back of the boat and drink the bar out, because none of us will be around to collect your money."

"TODAY will be mostly sunny, with rain periods, hail, blustery gale force winds, rough seas and severe thunder," said an upbeat newsreader and another typical day in Ireland began.

One wet, bleak morning, the lady at our B & B assured us that the weather would clear and "there would be enough blue sky to make a sailor suit."

As it turned out, the poor old sailor would have had a skimpy suit that day.

However, perhaps it is the national airline, Air Lingus, which best sums up Irish weather.

In a radio commercial, they urge people who want some sun to, "catch a flight with us to the Mediterranean rather than stay in Ireland and wait for a meteorological miracle."

THERE was a great story on the car radio one day.

They were interviewing a pleasant bloke, who was telling them he had a sneezing fit the week before and out of his nose came one a small rubber suction cap.

Strange, you say, but the story gets stranger.

How did a rubber suction cap get up his nose, and how come he didn't know it was there?

Well his old mother solved the riddle.

She remembered that 43 years earlier, when he was just a seven year old kid, his brother shot him in the head with his toy gun, as brothers do.

This gun fired rubber suction caps and when it happened she rushed him off to the doctor thinking he must have swallowed the suction cap because it couldn't be found in the house.

But alas, the doctor couldn't see anything wrong with the kid, so they went home and forgot about the incident for 43 years until he sneezed the other day.

As the Irish would say, "whale oil beef hooked."

And if those last four words sound meaningless, say them with an Irish accent.

BUT it is the laconic Irish sense of humour I love.

Like the lovely lady cooking breakfast on the farm where we were staying, casually told me one morning that, "no woman has ever killed a man while he is doing the dishes."

Or the radio announcer who asked a guest;

"Why are you talking into that envelope Paddy?"

"Just sending some voice mail to Seamus," he casually replied.

I spotted an Irish prayer on a wall in a Dublin pub.

"May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead."

THEN there is the tale of poor old O'Connell who was staggering home with a bottle of whiskey in his back pocket, when he slipped and fell heavily.

Struggling to his feet, he felt something wet running down his leg.

"Please, God," he implored, "let it be blood!"

No wonder we love the Irish.