I was going to say you’re a cute Kerry hoor, slipping an ad into your letter. Then I took a look at your Facebook page. No one would ever accuse you of being cute. (Is that your nose or a collection of warts?) I’d need a couple of more details before I’d recommend your house. I know from experience that mod cons in a Kerry house means two tin openers and a signed photo of Kieran Donaghy.
Say whatever you like, they won’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I called my uncle in West Cork last night and genuinely thought that his dog had answered the phone. That said, you don’t want to appear rude. It’s not like they are in Roscommon. Don’t mind the begrudgers who say there is no way a West Cork man can put on a ridiculous accent in order to make himself understood to the Brits. Sure didn’t it work a treat for Graham Norton.
Give me a call. (I got my legs waxed on Wednesday, my Conor says I went from a 6 to a 7!) I know what you mean on the goodbye front. My mother will often sign off a phone-call with, “Goodbye so Audrey. By the way, did you hear Monica turned up at bridge last week with a new hip?” A new hip means 10 minutes of extra chat. That rose to half an hour recently when Monica turned up to bridge with a new fella. Apparently she’s ‘very flexible’ since the new hip. Bit of vomit in the mouth when I heard that one.
I don’t know anyone who won it, but I’m still looking. It will never work between you and Mr Sunday’s Well. He will never understand that being upper-class in Cork is like being the tallest man in Munchkin Land. It doesn’t count for much once you leave town. You need a totally unpretentious guy who doesn’t think ‘dowcha’ is a word. That can be hard to find in Cork, but I hear there might be one or two in Turner’s Cross.
Why don’t you leave Cork and move there altogether? It would raise the standard of people in both cities. You are clearly writing to me through some time tunnel from 1998. There has been this invention since then called Facebook. It started out as way to rate students based on their looks. It ended up a way for Douglas and Blackrock women to ram each other’s holidays down their throat. At the last count, they had posted 47,457 photos with the caption, “Here are my toes in St Tropez.”
So get yourself an account.