Be thankful for small mercies. They way Cork are going right now, you’d end up getting Viagra pumped into your house. (The footballers got trounced by Clare last weekend. That’s like a losing a handball tournament to an eel.)
I had a quick look at the Premiership table there and I have a solution for your frustration. Find a Chelsea fan. (They’re a sure thing this year, like scoring in the Crane Lane). Just head into any pub when they are playing and take your pick from the guys in blue jerseys.
Make sure your chosen one hasn’t had too many pints. My Conor is next to useless after four.
You don’t need to. I hear the airspace around posh Cork can get fairly hectic on communion day alright. My neighbour works in air traffic control at the airport and he said it’s nearly as busy as Wife-Swap Wednesday in Kinsale.
(The parking is mental down there, apparently.) It turns out I’ve written a book on communion day for parents; it’s called How to Show Off Without Looking Like a Norry. The key is to spend as little as possible on your child and to steal her moment completely by turning up at the church looking like Victoria Beckham.
That’s known as a touch of class in Posh Cork.
You sound as enticing as a swim in the Lough. I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but I think she might be seeing someone else. Or given that it’s Tinder, I think she might be seeing everyone else.
(I’m using the term ‘seeing’ because I know the bishop reads the Examiner on a Friday.) I can’t say for certain who she is cheating with. But the aftershave indicates a hygienic individual, so I’d say he’s from somewhere east of Innishannon. (No offence.)
I’d like to say I’m immune to sleazy Italian charmers. But there’s a pair of expensive D&G jocks under my bed somewhere that says otherwise. My Conor came home a day early from some work thing and out the window went what’s his name. (It ended with the letter o.)
As for all the flesh on display on Saturday nights in town, we have a saying here in Cork. “If you’ve got, flaunt it. If you don’t have it, buy something two sizes too small and lash on a langer load of fake tan.”
It’s better than putting him up on eBay. I can’t imagine anyone paying for Munchy Man. You are suffering from a medical condition known as misophonia, which is an aversion to certain sounds. It turns out that I’m allergic to particular sounds myself.
I completely lose it when I hear the woman in Brown Thomas saying, “I can’t give you your money back because I think you wore it at a wedding.”
In fairness, you’ll always find a bit of puke if you go looking for it.