Puzzling racial humour from the 1890s

The ornate front cover of the 1890s tourist guide "Visit Ireland", with the title of the book in the centre. Below the title are various sketched views of Irish tourist attractions, inset in circular frames, including the Giant's Causeway, a graveyard scene with Celtic cross and round tower at Monasterboice, and Cong Abbey.
Above the title is a lakeside scene showing a small red-jacketed figue in the foreground and hills in the background. Above this picture is a crest showing an Irish harp, crowned, with the words "Cead Mille Failthe" appearing in a scroll to either side.

The Irish Tourist Development guidebook Visit Ireland, compiled in 1892 by F. X. Crossley and available in scanned form from the British Library Labs, contains a variety of useful information for the traveller of the 1890s, including timetables for railway, trams and steamer sailings, seasonal dates for game, estimates for how much you might expect to pay to hire a jaunting car, what local newspapers are likely to be available at your chosen hotel – and the political orientations of said newspapers.

Image of text from the featured guidebook, showing a table of Dublin newspapers and their political leanings. A number of papers are listed, including the Evening Herald (which is described as "Home Rule" oriented and available for half a penny every evening) and the Irish Times (which is "Unionist", daily, and costs a penny). — Modern readers of the Evening Herald might be surprised to learn of its original Home Rule leanings, and Irish Times readers might be even more surprised. (Page 114)

Like many a modern guidebook, Visit Ireland seems to have relied on advertising revenue to cover some of its costs, and the back pages contain a number of ads for goods and businesses (including some familiar names such as Arnotts, Brown Thomas and the Lucan Spa Hotel).

These pages also have an unusual feature, in which the printers have made use of some free space at the bottom of each page by filling them with what’s described in the Contents as “Irish Comicalities”. The jokes are a bit on the quaint side to be considered offensive, but they do seem an odd choice of back matter for a book encouraging its (presumably mostly British) audience to come visit the delights of Ireland, being mostly based on the differences between the Irish and the English. As you might imagine, the Irish generally come off worst.

The Irishman of our comicalities is illiterate, credulous, a bit short on reasoning and partial to a drink:

Image of text, which reads: "Near-sighted invalid lady (in bath chair). - "Patrick, can you read the name on the shop just opposite for me?" Patrick. - "Sure, Miss, it's as ignorant as yourself I am! They never taught me to read either."

Image of text. "Two Irishmen stopped looking into a window in which there was a globe of gold fish. After gazing at the fish for some time one of them turned to the other exclaiming, "Be me soul, Patsy, this is the first time I ever saw red herrings alive."

A barber, who was in the habit of taking a wee drop too much occasionally, was shaving a customer (a clergyman), and cut him slightly on the cheek.
"Pat, Pat," said the priest, "see what drink does."
"Yes, yer riverence," said Thomas, "its makes the skin very tender."

He’s also very likely to be named Patrick, or some variation on same. However, he’s not always the butt of the joke, sometimes turning the tables on a would-be prankster:

A wag, who thought to have a joke at the expense of an Irish provision dealer, said: "Can you supply me with a yard of pork?"
"Pat," said the dealer to his assistant, "Give this gentleman three pigs' feet."

I’m pretty sure this one here is still doing the rounds:

A gentleman having some whisky forty years old, gave an Irishman a very small drop to taste, asking his opinion of it, whereupon the Irishman replied, "Well, sir, it's very small for its age."

I confess I can’t say exactly what’s going on in this next joke (perhaps I’m a century too late to get the reference), but it sounds like the Pat in question is doing well, at least in terms of wordplay:

And then there’s THIS riposte to the Paddy-Irishman jokes:

He’s going to need some glycerine and cucumber for that burn

Finally, I’m afraid this final joke (if that’s what it is?) is totally beyond me. Any readers from the Lancashire region who’d care to elucidate?

The following dialogue was overheard in a Dublin tramcar, bound for Phoenix Park, between two Isle of Man day-trippers, apparently Lancashire boys: -
Bill. - A bit of a sell this trip, eh, Joe?
Joe. - Ah! I think so, too.
Bill. - Why these Irish are like us. We ain't run NO risk in coming arter all; they are quite tame.
Joe. - Seven bob chucked away, and aint even had a chance of distinguishing ourselves. Let's get drunk for spite.
Bill. - Right you are. Say, Paddy (to conductor), drop us at Mr. Guinness's wholesale stout establishment.

Irish stereotypes and other types of ethnic humour are by no means lacking in the 19th century books from the British Library corpus, but it’s intriguing to see their deployment in a tourist development text!