Ask Audrey: 'Come here, do posh girls fake orgasms?'

Hello old stock. Reggie Jnr. arrived in from college yesterday and announced that he is going to wear a dress. I said no problem old stock, as long as you’re out on the piss with your rugby pals and it’s crystal clear that every last one of you is a heterosexual. He said, no, he’s a woman going forward, and wants to be called Regina. Should I write him out of the will? – Reggie, Monkstown, he didn’t get it from me.

I’ve heard your son is charming and hilarious, Reggie. So it’s clear she didn’t get anything from you. (Which is more than I can say for half the women in Passage West.)

My daughter went against our advice and married a non-entity from Carrigtwohill. (His father owns a garage and says ‘grand job’ to everything.) Anyway, they are expecting my first grandchild, and there is no way I’m going to allow the poor thing to be reared by sheep-worriers from East Cork. So, we have decided to buy them a house in the swish new Botanika development, close to Blackrock. Competition is fierce, do you have any bit of pull to get us on the list? – Monica, Blackrock, it’s a detached house or nothing, obviously.

It goes without saying. The Posh Cousin said people are already referring to semi-detached houses in Botanika as ‘The Servants’ Quarters’. I said, are you and Ken thinking of buying in there? She said no, because Botanika is the name of my Lithuanian, or is it Latvian, housekeeper. I said, awkward. She said, ya, it would just be confusing if word got around Ballintemple that Ken is planning to make a move on Botanika. I said nothing. (Open secret.)

Come here, do posh girls fake orgasms? I do be doing the business regularly with this one from Sunday’s Well, that I met on Tinder. She told me that Norry Dating is the new thing now for posh girls, so they can get it out of their system before marrying a Project Manager. Anyway, when it comes to orgasm time, she’d a be shouting ‘Conor Murray!!’ and ‘This is better than skiing!!’ – Daycent Des, Blarney Street, my last girlfriend used to shout ‘This do be better than Pearl River!’

She sounds prawn crackers. This is a delicate area. Only last night, My Conor asked me if I had faked an orgasm in the past year. I said yes. He said, I didn’t notice. I said, you weren’t there. He said that’s so deceitful. I said there was a taxi waiting , the meter was running, and Marco’s (or is it Paulo’s) place is in Ballincollig. He said that could rack up a fortune, in fairness. Say what you will about My Conor, but he’s very practical when it comes to money.

We’re delighted in Douglas to hear that Tramore Valley Park is about to open to the public. It will save us the drive out to Ballincollig park, which is full of people driving around in a Hyundai they can’t afford (Imagine.) That said, Tramore Valley Park is just a stolen bike ride away from Ballyphehane. Unfortunately we can’t put razor wire to keep out the Haaneys, because they all have Neil Prendeville on speed dial. How do you think we might make them stay at home? – Sorcha, Vice President of Douglas Road Moms Against Mixing With Kids Called Nathan. (DORMAMWIKICANA)

Snappy name. (If you’re from Newtwopothouse.) Anyone looking for tips on excluding commoners should read my book, ‘Sorry, No Norries (And Your Dad drives a Lorry’.) It focuses on the positive aspects of Norryland, to encourage them to stay put. After all, the last thing you want is your Hugo sharing a slide with some Darren, in a pair of Tesco jeans. (Imagine.) Anyway, here’s some ammunition. There is actually a sentence in my book, listing the positives of Ballyphehane. “Look, at least it’s not Togher.”

How’re oo’ goin’ on. I installed the WhatsApp recently to keep in touch with the daughter above in Dublin. Wasn’t I messing with it last week wearing the wrong glasses, and between yourself and myself, I’m after joining a WhatsApp group for swingers in Vienna. (By mistake, I hasten to add.) Anyway, long story short, six Austrian perverts are arriving into Cork airport tomorrow and are booked to come and stay with us here in the B&B. I’m looking for a way to break the news to my wife, without suggesting she should put on a pair of strawberry-flavoured knickers and tell a strange Austrian man that she likes his Wiener Schnitzel. What might be the best coarse of action? –Dan Paddy Andy, head out beyond Dunmanway until you see a man who could do with a haircut.

I think it’s time to play the Wild Atlantic Way card. That route from the airport will take your swingers through Kinsale. I’d be amazed if they weren’t tied up there for quite some time, if you get my drift.