Thanks for the warning. You might want to update your terminology. I haven’t heard the term chicky babe since a Cork Con disco in 1989, when I let a plug ugly rugby player feel me up because he went to Christians. I originally thought it might be a good idea for you to post your profile on Tinder.
And then I took a look at your photo. I haven’t laughed so much since I heard they were thinking of putting a Tourist Office in Kanturk. They’d have less customers than a perfume shop selling Essence of Dunmanway!
Seventies! I was just about to iron my Sexy But Forgetful Maid outfit until I read that. I’m not ageist or anything, but the sight of anyone over the age of 45 in their underwear gives a savage fit of the gawks. I honestly think you are going to struggle to swing in Cork. Sex with a stranger over 70 is a minority pursuit, even in Kinsale. And to be honest with you, we’re not really that Catholic any more.
The only time most Irish people see the inside of a church these days is when they’re parading their children in for first holy communion. The poor priest has to burn extra incense to cover the smell of fake tan. (And that’s on the kids.)
I remember my first time. It’s amazing what happens when you mix a bench by the Atlantic Pond with a Spanish exchange student and half a bottle of Malibu. Your cousin is wrong when he says that Cork people are unfriendly to Dubs. We’re unfriendly to everyone. It’s kind of like our thing. I hear you get used to it after about 40 years. That said, there is plenty to enjoy around Cork. If you want to see people who dress like you but sound like they’re from Pakistan crossed with Wales, try a trip to the northside. You could also take a trip out of town for a tour around Spike Island. Ask your Da about it, he probably spent some time there when he was young.
Sorry to hear you can’t afford a gardener. I hear boasting about your kids is enjoying a revival in Posh Cork. (What else is the point of having them, says you.) Apparently, giving your child a present worth less than €1,500 is considered a form of punishment. (It’s considered worse than sending them to Douglas Community School in some quarters.) So boast away about that.
Where? In Afghanistan? I’d be afraid of sending anyone out in Cork tonight. My Conor bumped into a gang of women from Ovens on Women’s Christmas Last Year.
They were all over him like a cheap suit. He said it was like getting trapped on Monkey Island down in Fota. I said that’s a terrible thing to say. About the poor monkeys. He said it would be hard to imagine anything worse. I said you’ve obviously never been at a hen party in Ballincollig.