A golfer in Ireland hit a bad hook into the woods. Looking for the ball, he discovered a leprechaun flat on his back, a big bump on his head, and the golfer’s ball beside him. Horrifed, the golfer took his water bottle from his belt and poured it over the little guy, reviving him.
“Arrgh! What happened?” the leprechaun says. “Oh, I see. Waal, ye got me fair and square. Ye get three wishes. Whaddya want?”
“Thank God, you’re alright!,” the golfer answers in relief. “I don’t want anything. I’m glad you’re okay, and I apologize. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
And the golfer walks off.
“What a nice guy,” the leprechaun says to himself. “But it was fair and square that he got me, and I have to do something for him. I’ll give him three things I would want — a great golf game, all the money he ever needs, and a fantastic sex life.”
A year goes by (as it does in jokes like this) and the golfer is back, hits another bad ball into the woods and finds the leprechaun waiting for him.
“‘Twas me that made ye hit the ball here,” the little guy says. “I wanted to ask ye, how’s yer golf game?”
“That’s the first bad ball I’ve hit in a year! I’m a famous international golfer now,” the golfer answers. “By the way, it’s good to see you’re alright.”
“Oh, I’m fine now, thankee. I did that fer yer golf game. And tell me, how’s yer money?”
“Why, I win fortunes in golf. But if I need cash, I just reach in my pocket and pull out $100 bills all day long.”
“I did that fer ye. And how’s yer sex life?”
The golfer blushes, turns his head away in embarrassment, and says shyly, “Errr, alright, I suppose.”
“C’mon, c’mon now. I’m wanting to know if I did a good job. How many times a day?”
Blushing even more, the golfer whispers, “Once — sometimes twice a week.”
“What!,” says the leprechaun in shock. “That’s all? Once or twice a week?”
“Well,” says the golfer, “I figure that’s not too bad for a Catholic priest in a small parish.”
