Three folktales

The Devil is in Chelm when he sees a young man in the town square, hammering nails into a CD of Sting’s greatest hits.

“Young man,” says the Devil “I can give you gold, women, and power over others in this world. But you must guarantee me your soul.”

“What?” says the young man.

“Gold, women, power,” says the Devil, speaking more slowly this time, “but you must give me your soul when you die.”

“What?” says the young man.

“This aggravation I don’t need,” says the Devil and vanishes in a puff of sulphur as the young man continues his hammering.

Moral: Why does the Devil spend so much time in Chelm, looking for souls? Is he an idiot or something?

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Irish champion Finn MacCool makes a bet with his neighbour that whoever can row across the loch and set their hand on the far shore will be entitled to that land and all the Irish-themed pubs it can support.

The deal agreed, both men set off the next morning to row across the loch.

Soon Finn pulls far ahead.

“Man, this is going to be great,” thinks Finn MacCool, “I’ll call my first pub Bridie O’Reilly’s and folk will come from far and wide to have the crap kicked out of them by dim-witted thugs.”

Not to be outdone however, Finn’s neighbour draws his sword, cuts off his left hand and throws into onto the far bank, winning the bet.

“O.K.” thinks Finn to himself, “This bloke is a complete fecking lunatic” and makes a mental note to move as soon as possible.

Moral: Don’t mess with people from Ulster. They’re complete fecking lunatics.

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Once upon a time, there lived an old man and woman who were so poor they had nothing to eat but salad.

One night the old man goes out to have a quiet smoke and sees a faerie in the back garden, also enjoying a ciggie.

“Shit;” says the creature, “don’t tell the others I’ve been smoking and I’ll grant you three wishes.”

Overjoyed, the man rushes back into the house to tell his wife.

“Oh, I wish we had a salad spinner,” cries his wife and there on the table, appears the magic salad spinner.

“A salad spinner!” says the old man, “who the fuck wishes for a salad spinner,’ and goes down the pub before something else stupid can happen.

Moral: There always seems to be something that goes wrong with this whole “three wishes” caper, doesn’t there? Boy, you wouldn’t catch me in one of those scenarios.