That’s when his friends call him Youghal. I feel your pain though. The worst thing about that is it’s a complete no-no for morning sex. My Conor’s breath smells like a second-hand underwear shop in Killorglin.
I can sense him in the bed next to me some mornings, getting ready to make a move. That’s when I say, “My Conor, you’d have a better chance of persuading me to go for a swim in Atlantic Pond”. That does the trick.
I can’t see anything wrong with this. Mainly because I had a second G&T after lunch and I reckon everything is fantastic.
The only hurdle would be persuading McGregor’s people that Las Vegas has anything in common with Kinsale. One is an over-priced pleasure palace where you can indulge in all sorts of perversion. And the other is Las Vegas.
I like a man with a sense of humour. I asked my posh cousin if it’s safe to use a pedestrian crossing in Cork. She said not if the streets are named after Irish patriots. I said why. She said because that means the area is full of Norries. I said so what?
She said so what if one of them jumped into my white Range Rover and said hello, girl, would you like a look at my budgie. I said would you not be devastated if you knocked somebody down? She said of course I would, if they were from Blackrock.
Standing at arrivals in Cork Airport in a virtually non-existent mini-skirt. I should be easy enough to spot unless there is a flight in from the Canaries. (The Norries love dressing too sexy.) I know what you mean about Irish men’s fashion. My Conor’s clothes look like the brainchild of someone who did a Diploma in Dressin’ Swanky at the Kilmallock School of Slacks. He walked in the other day and said, do I remind you of Nathan Carter. I said yes, unfortunately.
I’d say they do be dying to return home. I tried listening to Radio na Gaeltachta last year in an attempt to improve my Irish. I ended up listening to a documentary about a guy called Paidi Mike, who couldn’t stop crying because of the thing that happened back on the island. Or maybe it was a cookery show. Honestly, it was hard to make out.
The presenter was speaking Connemara Irish, so I might as well have been listening to Radio Abu Dhabi.