the Cavan origin story https://twitter.com/declandempsey/status/1253011043670003713

Cavanmen are but fallen Meathmen, cast out of heaven for the loathsome sin of avarice, cursed to wander the sodden fields and miserly drumlins of breifne til kingdom come

one of the strangest memories from my childhood was a fishing trip me da brought me on to Cavan. "There's no fish in that lake" sez a local to us. "You should probably try baitin the hook" answered me da giving me a wink and within a minute he'd pulled out a huge tench out....

....much to the Cavanman's amazement. A little gust of wind blew and the flake of foil that covered the plastic bottle of milk me da had brought for the tea flew off and I turned to see the Cavanman and a magpie pull at either end of it, beak to snout

and me da took it as a good omen for the day's fishing as he had never known of a magpie to be seen in Cavan and we looked up to see a murder of crows hurrying south with packed lunches tucked underwing

Bested by the bird, the Cavanman turned on his heels but he'd returned within the hour with ten more of his kind, not an arse between them. They wanted to burn as witches and charged us with "charmin fish from the wather wih black arts, hai!" Me da, ever prepared, dug a little...

...hole in the lack shore with his heel. He lit a match and placed it upright in the hole. As it burned down the primitives gathered around it to behold it without comprehension, we escaped in our Nissan bluebird

I looked at me da as we drove and he appeared to me as if a hero but when I hailed him as such he reproached me in soft sympathetic tones and asked me never to speak of it again as "to look for glory in outwitting a Cavanman is a fool's errand"

the car started to stutter as we reached Kells and me da now gave himself a look in the mirror that was full of reproach. Gettin out of the car we walked to the rear of the vehicle. Me da popped open the boot and removed the 9 iron he used for pitch & putt and commenced to...

....rattle the undercarriage of the bluebird. I crouched, just in time to see a Cavanman loose the bailing twine he used as a belt from around the exhaust. Turning, petrol dripping from his chin, he hissed at me with a mouthful of teeth like a lamprey eel before scampering out...

....and scurrying off, crab-like, in the direction from whence we came. My father met my shocked gaze and said something about Cavanmen having evolved to be capable of chewing through the softer metals but I was too disturbed to make much sense of it

true story