A Fairy Tale for Christmas
I know not why I am so sad; I cannot get out of my head a fairy-tale of olden times.” -- Heinrich Heine.
At this time of year with pantomimes and what have you many of us think back to our favourite fairy tales from our childhood. I’ll bet that each and every one of you readers t had a favourite fairy-tale. I had a favourite fairy-tale too. And I’ve seen and heard adaptations of it over the years but not the version that I remembered until . . .
I was at Culture night in Blessington last September when a woman recited, if that’s the correct term, my Childhood fairy-tale exactly as I heard it more than sixty years ago. She was a blonde (well, apart from the roots.) I went backstage after the show and asked her if she would write it out for me. She told me that she was a very poor speller and that she was extremely slow at the typing. I said that didn’t matter as the spelling could be corrected and there was no rush with the typing.
When she said she was a slow typist I didn’t think she would be quite so slow. I only received her communication today.
The following is her submission as it was written:
ONCE UPON A TIME IN A CORN FOUNTRY THERE LIVED A GRUTIFUL BIRL CALLED RINDERCELLA AND SHE LIVED WITH HER MUGGLY DUDDER AND HER SIGLEY BLISTERS BUT THEY MADE HER RESS IN DRAGS.
BUT ALTHOUTH SHE WAS RESSED IN DRAGS SHE WAS STILL BERY VEAUTIFUL. NOW IN THAT LAME SAND THERE SIVED A PRINSOM HANCE AND HE DECIDED TO BOLD A CHRISTMAS HALL IN PIS HALLACE, AND ALL THE LINE FADIES OF THE FAND WERE GOING INCLUDING RINDERCELLAS MUGGLEY DUDDER AND HER SIGGLY BLISTERS. BUT BECAUSE RINDERCELLA WAS RESSED IN DRAGS SHE COULD NOT BO TO THE GALL SO THAT EVENING AS RINDERCELLA LAY SYING IN THE CRINDERS, HER GEARY FODMOTHER APPEARED!
“OH! CRY ARE YOU WHYING RINDERCELLA?”, SHE ASKED, “BECAUSE I WANT TO BO TO THE GALL”, SAID RINDERCELLA AND WITH THAT THE GEARY FODMOTHER WAVED HER WAGIC MOND, AND HER RAGS BECAME A GRUTIFUL BRESS AND A PIG BUMPKIN BECAME A COLDEN GOACH AND FIFE LICE WHICH BECAME FIFE HAGNIFICANT MORSES!!
“BO NOW TO THE GALL RINDERCELLA”, SHE SAID ,BUT BE SURE TO BE BACK BEFORE THE SLOCK SLIKES QUELVE.” SO RINDERCELLA BENT TO THE WALL, AND EVERYBODY THOUGHT HOW LUTIFUL SHE BUCKED! SHE RANCED ALL NIGHT WITH THE PRINSOME HANCE MUCH TO THE ENVY OF HER MUGGLY DUDDER AND HER SIGGLEY BLISTERS. , WHO DID NOT KNOW WHO SHE WAS. WHEN ALL AT HANCE THE CLOCK SLUCK QUELVE.
“FOTHER Of MUCK” SAID RINDERCELLA AS SHE SLASHED DOWN THE REARS AND SLOPPED HER DRIPPER. THE PRINSOME HANCE SLASHED AFTER HER AND FOUND THE SLOPPED DRIPPER, BUT RINDERCELLA HAD PISSADEARED. THE NEXT DAY THE PRINSOME HANCE SET OUT THROUGH ALL THE LOUCES IN HIS HAND TO TRY THE SLOPPED DRIPPER ON THE DEET OF ALL THE LINE FADIES. HE CAME TO RINDERCELLA’S HOUSE AND TRIED THE SLOPPED DRIPPER ON THE MUGGLEY DUDDER BUT IT FID’NT DIT. HE TRIED IT ON THE SIGGLEY BLISTERS AND IT STILL FID’NT DIT, AND THEN HE TRIED IT ON RINDERCELLAS FOOT AND IT FAT!
“OH WILL YOU WE BY MIFE RINDERCELLA?”, HE ASKED “SURE!” SAID RINDERCELLA AND THEY BOTH HIVED LAPPILY EVER AFTER. SO THE STORAL OF THE MOREY IS: ALWAYS SLOP YOUR DRIPPER WHEN YOU ARE STASHING DOWN THE REARS.
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An elderly woman, a neighbour of mine, died last month. Having never married, she requested no male pallbearers. In her handwritten instructions for her memorial service, she wrote,
"They wouldn't take me out while I was alive, I don't want them to take me out when I'm dead."
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A west Wicklow business man walks into a post Dublin restaurant with his young son. He gives the young boy three €1 coins to play with to keep him occupied. Suddenly, the boy starts choking, going blue in the face. The father realises the boy has swallowed the coins and starts slapping him on the back. The boy coughs up two of the coins but keeps choking. Looking at his son, the father is panicking, shouting for help.
A well dressed, attractive, and serious looking woman, in a blue business suit is sitting at a nearby table reading The Irish Times and sipping a cup of coffee. At the sound of the commotion, she looks up, puts her coffee cup down, gets up from her seat and makes her way, unhurried, across the restaurant.
Reaching the boy, the woman carefully drops his pants; takes hold of the boy's testicles and starts to squeeze and twist, gently at first and then ever so firmly. After a few seconds the boy convulses violently and coughs up the last coin, which the woman deftly catches in her free hand.
Releasing the boy's testicles, the woman hands the €1 to the father and walks back to her seat at the coffee bar without saying a word.
As soon as he is sure that his son has suffered no ill effects, the father rushes over to the woman and starts thanking her saying, "I've never seen anybody do anything like that before, it was fantastic. Are you a doctor?"
"No," the woman replied. "I'm with the Revenue Commissioners.."
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