Ask Audrey has been sorting out Cork people for years

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My daughter is attracted to Kerry footballers. She says that she often sees them in pubs around Washington Street and they’re just like Cork men when you get to know them. We spent a fortune sending her to Scoil Mhuire hoping she’d get a thing for rugby players. I’m so upset that I’ve forgotten how to ski. What can we do? — Michelle, St Lukes.

Look on the bright side. At least it isn’t Kerry hurlers. She’d spent her life consoling them.

There is no point in fighting these things. Let her find a footballer from the Kingdom and bring him home for dinner.

He’ll probably get confused when he sees you use a table cloth rather than an old copy of The Kerryman.

And if that fails, just act yourself and you’ll never see your man again.

There is nothing like a St Luke’s lady with a superiority complex to put a guy off Cork women for life.

How’re oo going on? I was above in Cork on Tuesday for the bit of shopping and didn’t I come home without my teeth. Could you put out the word above and see if anyone found them? — Mick Mike Mary, head west out of Glengarriff and keep going until the people start to look like donkeys.

My aunt said she saw you in The Imperial.

Apparently you went up to talk to the receptionist without your teeth and the guy at the desk shouted out, “lads, does anyone here speak Hungarian?”

My aunt laughed so much she had to run into Penneys and buy herself a new pair of knickers.

She said she was so embarrassed. I said I know, Penneys! Imagine if someone saw you?

Don’t worry, I’m sure someone will hand in your teeth if they find them.

Unless the person is from Macroom and decides to keep them for an emergency. We can’t rule that out.

C’mere. I’m just back home from New Zealand after 20 years. The Christmas lights on Pana are so weak they don’t even give you a blinding headache. God be with the days you’d have to lie in bed all January until the hallucinations would die down. What’s the story there now like? — Livid Larry, Carrigaline

The new lights are what’s known as tasteful. I can see why that might come as a shock to someone from Carrigaline. (No offence.)

You are just one of many people complaining that the Christmas lights aren’t bright enough. I’d say most of you are in your mid-40s and could do with a stronger pair of glasses.

I hear another slice of the population is up in arms about the new Christmas in Cork. They’re called southsiders.

They’re livid that the big wheel on the Grand Parade allows Norries to look down on them.

You’ve got to love Cork.

Ciao. The Christmas party is on this weekend at work and I am like, how you say, a dog with two mickeys. So many beautiful women, so little time. How should I flirt with all of them without ending up in front of HR on Monday morning for sexual harassment? (Or as well call it in Naples, complimenting the beautiful women.) — Pepe, Naples and Douglas Street.

You clearly have never heard of the Irish woman’s mojito tipping point. It averages out at five mojitos.

Any compliment before that is greeted with “get away out of that”. Any compliment after is greeted with “let’s get away out of this”, and suddenly you are in a taxi on the way out to Wilton.

Don’t lob the gob in the cab. Your typical Cork woman know every taxi driver in the city.

They don’t want the word going around that they’re easier than the entrance exam for secondary schools in Tipperary.

Bonjour. I have a very bad pain in my chest. I asked someone at work in Ballincollig if this could be treated by your health service and he nearly had to get an ambulance himself with all the laughing. Is there any local remedy I could try? — Laurence, Lyons and Ovens.

I’ve just two words for you. Hot toddy.

Any ailment that strikes an Irish person between September and May is no match for half a bottle of the quare fella. (That’s our pet name for whiskey.)

Here is how you make one: Pour yourself a large whiskey. Double it up again, uttering the phrase ‘you might as well be hung for a sheep as well as a lamb’.

Add a small drop of boiling water, cloves and half a lemon you found in the back of the fridge. (These additions mean you couldn’t possibly be an alcoholic.)

Lie on the sofa.

Repeat until you feel better.

Or that you might be on tour with The Pogues circa 1984.