Ask Audrey: There are plans for a pack of anti-democratic zealots to build a huge wall along the Lee

Ask Audrey: There are plans for a pack of anti-democratic zealots to build a huge wall along the Lee

Sorting out Cork people for ages...

Q: Ciao, what the fawk is the Rose of Tralee? My last weekday girlfriend found three of my affair phones so now I have started seeing this teacher from Charleville, my God she gets a lot of holidays.

Anyway, this week she made me watch the Rose of Tralee, where women pretend to be their mothers in front of some guy called Daawhee and then the judges have a think and give the prize to third best looking one.

The organisers seemed ok with the fact that the girls did not walk around in bikinis, which made me miss Italy a little bit. How come you are allowed to put this kind of stuff on the television?

— Paulo, Turner’s Cross and Turin.

A: I entered the competition once, after there was a mix-up in my prescription. I probably would have won too if it wasn’t for my party-piece limerick – You wouldn’t say Tralee was like Rome, it’s basically Fermoy with a dome, my escort is hairy, the locals are scary and that is the end of my poem. #PinDrop

Q: Now listen up Paddy. Flushed with our success at re-introducing a hard border on your dismal plot of spud worshippers (no offence), myself, Piggy Dense-Puffington and few other notables in the British Establishment have decided to launch a consultancy called Borders R Us.

I’m told there might be demand in the leafier parts of Cork’s southside to put a hard border along the river, keep the Norries at bay and what not. Would you be able to make some introductions, all very hush hush?

— Lord Edmund d’Servant-Shagger, England, I’d pay you a retainer of course.

A: As long as it’s not in Sterling. #FunnyMoney. Anyway, you’re too late. There are already plans for a pack of anti-democratic zealots to build a huge wall along the Lee. (We call them the City Council. And much worse.)

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Q: Bonjour. I am an also-ran on the looks front in my home town Montpellier, but I am easily a nine out of 10 in Cork. (Why do Cork women wear perfume when all anyone can smell is the fake tan?)

Men often chat me up on the bus and say “No bother girl, do you have any friends who look like you, like?” when I tell them that I am gay. However this morning on the 207 bus, a very hot Cork woman talked to me for five seconds, during which time she told me she went to Scoil Mhuire, owns two houses in Crookhaven and her grandfather has a tee-box named after him in Douglas Golf Club.

Her stop came, she went, I never got a name. Can you track her down?

—Amelie, St Lukes

A: That’s my Posh Cousin!! I told her your story. She said, that’s mortifying. I said, what, that someone spotted you on a bus? She said no, it’s that you reckon you’re a 9 out of 10. (Pas d’offense.)

Q: Hello old stock. My grandmother put a curse on me with her dying breath, threatening to haunt us for all eternity if I didn’t send my son to Clongowes.

She left me the fees in fairness but I had to break into them for family emergency reasons when Hoggy bought a helicopter and I was left with no option but to get one myself.

The tragedy is we had to send Reggie Jnr to Coláiste Chríost Rí and didn’t he come home yesterday with the news that his class is going to start a charity to eradicate poverty in Cork. I said that’s a crazy idea, who’s going to cut our grass?

How can I contact my grandmother and tell her I’m sorry?

— Reggie, the Blackrock Road.

A: My neighbour has a séance business specialising in family members, it’s called ‘Am I right in saying your wife was a woman?’ I said, honestly now, are you getting something real from ‘the other side’.

She said, absolutely. I said, like what? She said, two Range Rovers and a villa on the Algarve, is that real enough for you? #Touche

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Q: Hey man, I lie awake most nights in my old man’s €2 million mansion with indoor heated swimming pool, worrying about the Amazon and whether or not my dreadlocks make me look like a try-too-hard.

I’m heading for Electric Picnic and want to buy a ticket for the luxury Harvest Moon Boutique camping, so I don’t have to share Ed-space with a 19-year-old bogger off his box on toilet duck, ya feelin’ me?

My old man has refused to give me any more money until I stop calling my pop-up crystal stall a career, so I’ve opened a GoFundMe page called Far From the Culchie Swine. Like to contribute?

— Ed, Ballintemple

A: I asked my friend Sandra. She said it’s a good cause. I said why. She said, well it’s good cause Ed is my neighbour and it means I won’t have to talk to him for the weekend.

My own response to your request is very like Go Fund Me. The first word in my answer is the same, Go. The second word starts with Fu, and I’ll leave it there because this is a family newspaper.

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