She’s been sorting out Cork people for years - here’s Audrey’s latest musings.
I pre-ordered a top of the range Apple iPhone X yesterday, because anything else would be social death in Sunday’s Well Tennis Club. (My friend Chloe was voted out last year after someone spotted her with a Samsung.) Here’s the thing — my husband Cameron doesn’t want to have a third child, so instead, he’s sending me to London for a blow-out shopping trip, along with a spot of cheek enhancement to make me look more like Penelope Cruz. How bad. Except I’m worried the surgery will stop the facial recognition from working on my new iPhone. Do you know if this is the case? Monica, Sunday’s Well, is there no end to my pain?
Hopefully not. I wouldn’t worry on the facial recognition front. The iPhone was developed in California. I’m sure they’ve designed it for people who have a nose job for breakfast. Anything else is a guaranteed business disaster, up there with opening a soap shop in Kanturk.
C’mere, what’s the story with German sex maniacs? A couple from Munich moved in next door and they do be at it like a pair of rabbits from Kinsale. It do be Oh Gott, Oh Gott this and Ja, Ja, Ja that for hours every night. My old doll is driven mad from it, mainly because I do be asking for action all the time now, because of the envy like. Do you think I should pop next door and ask your man for a few tips? Paul, Togher, I do be highly sexed.
I do be too. I’d suggest we meet up, but you’re from Togher. We had a similar problem here, with horny from Hamburg neighbours. After two weeks, I said to My Conor, this is driving me nuts. He said why don’t we try banging against the wall. I said great idea, if you can’t beat them, join them.
My daughter married a northsider, I’m still not over the smutty sing-song his family put on after the wedding. (No prizes for guessing what they rhymed with Blackrock in their version of The Boys of Fairhill.) Anyway, the marriage has produced a child and they are going to call the poor boy after my son-in-law’s father, Timmy. I mean, come on, no one will ever take him seriously with a name like Timmy. I’ve engaged the finest legal minds in Cork to put a stop to this. Do you think it will work? Joan, Douglas, my own husband is called Gordon.
No one could point the finger in Douglas if you named your child after a bottle of gin. I’m worried you’re pinning all your hopes on the finest legal minds in Cork. That’s like getting fashion tips from the best-dressed woman in Ballybunion. Let’s just say there wouldn’t be much competition.
How’re oo’ goin’ on? I’ve started seeing a woman from out along towards Union Hall, I’d say she has well over the 50 acres. Didn’t she phone up Tuesday and ask if I had any interest in a bit of light bandage. I said I would, if I had a small cut on my arm, maybe. She said, no you clown, bandage, tying you to the bed! I said, I suppose in some circumstances the bandage could be used as a restraint, if there was a danger that a man might fall out. Didn’t she hang up then and I haven’t heard from her since. Why not, do you suppose? Dan Paddy Andy, she’s originally from Bandon, if that helps.
It certainly does. Let’s just say Bandon put the B in BDSM. Don’t Google that or you might never get off the internet. Your lady friend was suggesting you try a bit of bondage. That’s where your partner ties you to the bed after a maximum of two gin and tonics. Anything more would be a mistake. Unless you get turned on by the sentence: “You couldn’t untie me there, Lady Whipvicious, I’m bursting for a slash.”
I was going to send my eldest son to Spioraid Naoimh in Bishopstown, like his Dad. Then yesterday, my bitchy sister told me she is trying to get her Jack into Christians, even though her husband only drives a fork-lift. There is only one way for me to top that. Do you have any pull in Pres? Clodagh, Glasheen, I’d probably put Bishopstown on the application form.
Good idea. Letting someone from Glasheen into a fee-paying school is tax deductible, as an Act of Charity. (Seriously, look it up.) I asked my Posh Cousin if there was any point in trying to get your son into Pres. She said no. I said why. She said you’re nothing in Posh Cork these days if you don’t send your kids to boarding school. I said wouldn’t you miss them? She said not as much as the fortune you’d make after renting
out their room for six months. I said I’ll never understand Posh Cork.
She said that’s why you only live in Ballinlough. Ouch, like.
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