Ask Audrey: 'I’m waiting for my mother to die because her house is worth €1.8 million.'

Ask Audrey’s been sorting out the people of Cork for ages. Here’s the latest advice she’s dished up.

Hello old stock. Let me make it clear I love my old dear and will be taking her down to Fishy Fishy in Kinsale for dinner on Mother’s Day. On the other hand, she’s 93 and her huge house in Sunday’s Well is worth €1.8m.

Can you think of a nice way to suggest that her time is up? - Reggie, Blackrock, my wife has already earmarked money for work on her bum.

I was walking behind your wife on the South Mall yesterday Reggie. You’ll need more than €1.8m. Still, I know your pain. My mother, God rest her, please God could you rest her, the market is red hot in Douglas right now and her house is definitely worth seven figures.

Honestly, it’s hard on Mother’s Day, sitting across from the woman who reared you, trying to spot any signs of weakness because you fancy buying a villa in Ibiza. Worse again, she keeps saying, “Sure this will probably be my last Mother’s Day now.” Like, it will yeah!

How’re oo goin on? Herself came home late from a wine-tasting thing the other night and didn’t she watch a porno movie on the iPad by mistake. The upshot is I have started getting photos via email from a Japanese woman who still wears her school uniform.

To be honest, it doesn’t come near to fitting her. Do you think this is something I should mention in confession? - Ger Mick Mike, head west beyond Drimoleague until you see a poster for Gina, Dale Haze and the Champions.

I’d say nothing. The last time I mentioned porn in the confession box, the priest asked if I’d forward him on a link. When I refused, he gave me four extra Hail Marys. And they wonder why there is no one at Mass.

Anyway, I don’t think any sin has been committed here. Except maybe trying to pin a sneaky porn watch on your imaginary wife. I reckon that’s lower than Tom Cruise out of high-heels.

Hi there. I’m trying to get back into the dating scene after my long-term relationship came to a sudden end. (Italian guy, seven girlfriends including my sister, you know yourself.)

Here’s the thing, I’m an attractive woman and not just after a few pints. But I’m not getting much love on Tinder. Do you have any tips? -- Grainne, Glanmire, is it just me or are Cork men mad for sex?

It’s not just you. And that’s your problem. There’s no easy way to put this — it’s well known in Cork dating circles that Glanmire women aren’t that gone on sex. Would you consider a little fib and say you come from Carrigaline?

I made that one little change on my Tinder profile last year, and my mobile phone nearly went on fire. Obviously it was a step down in social status for me, as I’m from Ballinlough. But you’re from Glanmire, so you’ve nothing to lose.

Two things, Audrey. I hear that it’s possible to hack into certain devices and spy on people in their living-room. And my neighbour Norma somehow managed to hire a gorgeous male au pair from Naples.

So, do you know how I might hack into her new telly for a bit of a snoop? - Monica, Douglas, I’m fairly sure she’s diddling Super Mario when her husband Ken is out playing golf.

I haven’t used the term diddling since the inspector asked about my hobbies in the Leaving Cert oral Irish. (He didn’t know where to look.) I find it outrageous that you are thinking of hacking into her TV.

Whatever happened to peering in someone’s windows and saying you thought you heard a burglar when you get caught? I’ve done it so many times in our estate, they call me Neighbourhood Watch. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s an affectionate title. Certain people in Ballinlough could do with taking a chill-pill. Not to mention a course in interior design.

Story, horse? I’m after getting a Latvian girlfriend, slim and gorgeous, and I’m bringing her down to Cork for the Dundalk match tomorrow, hey. Do youse think we’ll have trouble understanding yiz, what with the Cork accent hey? - Gary, Dundalk, it’s me first time in Cork, so it is.

Welcome to civilisation. I don’t think you will have any trouble with the language. As long as your girlfriend speaks English, she can translate it into whatever it is that you speak. I’m sure you’ll have a romantic time in Cork. It’s actually known as the Venice of the north, by people who’ve never been to Venice.

Honestly though, if you close your eyes on the Grand Parade when the wind isn’t blowing from Cobh, it can feel like you are in a piazza in Italy. Just don’t leave your eyes closed too long or a Norry will steal your old doll. You have been warned, hey, horse, so you have.