Audrey's been sorting out Cork people for ages.
I went slumming it yesterday and drove to Bishopstown to show my kids the new playground in Murphy’s Farm. I couldn’t believe it — the place was so full of Yummy Mummys, you could actually smell the botox. Problem time — I didn’t expect to meet anyone that matters over there, and only spent 45 minutes on make-up before going out the door. As a result I looked like someone doing a school run in Glanmire in a Renault Scenic (imagine!) and didn’t some bitch post my photo on the WhatsApp group, Naturally Blonde Ballintemple Women with Fluent French. How can I rescue this?
— Monica, Ballintemple
I went over to the new Murphy’s Farm playground myself to check out all the fuss. It’s weird alright to see more than six Tamsins outside their normal habitat (the gym in the River Lee Hotel). Weirder still were the kids in the 191 C Volvo wearing blindfolds in case they made eye contact with someone from Curragheen. #ItsCatching #DontLookAtThem
Now listen up Paddy. Tricky time to be a leading member of the British Establishment, given that we appear to have been outwitted by a pack of filthy Micks (no offence). I have one of my men looking at our family tree, to see if I qualify for Irish citizenship; I absolutely must get my hands on one of your purple passports, so I can continue my life’s work, drinking gin in Provence with Tiggy Farquar and complaining about the smell off the French. Anyway, it turns out during the 19th century a great-great-great-grand uncle owned half of Limerick, where he was known as Lord Famin-ator. Is this bad?
— Lord Edmund D’Servant-Spanker, I’m proud to say I’m one of those English people who doesn’t know a thing about Irish history
Is there any other kind? Quick little history lesson for you — the famine killed one million Irish people in four years, which is considered high. In other words, I wouldn’t mention your ancestor on the passport application form. As bad ideas go, it’s up there with getting driving lessons from Prince Philip.
Ciao. I was sitting at home the other night, counting my girlfriends, when it occurred to me I have never made beautiful love to a woman that speaks Irish. I turned on your TG4, which was boring at first because it was about a very old man on an island. Then they put on soft porn show called An Aimsir, where this supermodel pointed at a map of Ireland while I stared at her breasts. It reminded me of the weather forecast on Italian TV, except in Ireland the beautiful woman wears some clothes. So, how you say, long story short, why are Irish speakers so beautiful?
— Paulo, Milan and Monkstown, go raibh maith agat
What? Call over later and I’ll have a look at your auto-correct. #DoubleMeaning. I always thought our neighbour was in the IRA, but it turns out she’s just from Ballyvourney. I said, does speaking Irish make you better looking? She said no, but the government will give you a grant for putting on your socks. #Random
C’mere, what’s the story with Gillette, the best a man can get? I was tackling pints with the lads last night, when Baldy mentioned this new ad for Gillette that everyone is talking about. Lefty chimed in and said he’d been meaning to take a look because he heard there are fierce fit old dolls in it, at which point Baldy lost the rag and said you can’t call them old dolls any more, we need to show some respect and start treating them almost like equals. Is this the end for men now like?
— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool, I haven’t seen the ad myself, but I have some very strong opinions on it
You’d love Twitter. My right-on niece has written a book on toxic masculinity, called Yes, It Is Your Fault You Were Born with a Penis. I said, have you seen this new ad where Gillette tells ordinary men they need to be kinder and more respectful towards women. She said, yes. I said, is anyone happy about this? She said, Wilkinson Sword. #Bitter.
Hi girl. C’mere, my mortgage payments are mental every month, so I was delighted to find a tenant before Christmas to share my house, even though she’s not from Cork. One month later, and I’m totally losing the will — sorry now like, but I’m not just not able for her Wexford accent. She sounds like they crossed a Pakistani budgie with the only cheerful person in Waterford. Is there any way to evict her and get someone from Cork? No northsiders.
— Mags, Frankfield, I’m not saying Cork doesn’t have its faults
I know — sure just look at you. My Conor’s brother is an estate agent on the South Mall, so just reverse the meaning of everything he says and you’ll be grand. I told him your story. He said that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in ages. I said, mocking the Wexford accent? He said no, looking down on the Norries because you live in Frankfield. #StonesInAGlasshouse