He went to Cornwall for the fishing. Not in the sea, but in a Holy Well. An angel had put three fish in it with the stipulation that if he ate just one a day, the number would never decrease.
All went well until the day our Saint felt very unwell. His servant took the liberty of catching and cooking the fish instead. "Special treat father — this will soon get you on your feet" — and there in a dish were two fish grilled to a nicety.
Shock and horror were the ingredients that put the monk back on his feet — via his knees first for some very swift prayers. He rushed to the well, hoping it was not too late and promised to fast all day long to restore the status quo.
Fish One: What happened there then?
Fish Two: Dunno, a minute ago I had all the details hot off the press, but one swim round the well and I’ve forgot. What was it you asked?’
Fish Three: Where have you two been? I’ve been looking all over for you. I should have found at least one of you. Oh, well well well — here we are again...