Every cloud. This must be a terrible time for you, fending off questions about whether or not your father left you any money. (Did he? I won’t tell anyone.)
Anyway I referred your question to my solicitor friend. He said the request is not legally binding, but perhaps you could do it as a sign of human decency. I said that’s unlikely, she’s from Monkstown.
I’d hate to meet the next man. I asked my Posh Cousin where would be a good place to visit. She suggested Bandon.
I said no, we want Duncan to feel like he has left the UK. She said what about Kinsale.
At this point the phone rang, someone called Arlene Foster. She said, absolutely not, that would be totally unacceptable to any member of the Unionist community.
I said I think you have the wrong number. She said I have 10 MPs, I can do what I want. The cheek of her.
Pity it doesn’t cover your face. I asked my ex-boyfriend, the estate agent, about property prices in Norryland. He said the market is firming up nicely. I said, pity we could never say the same about you.
I do be doubtful. I think the most important thing is that both of you understand what’s meant by ‘scoring’.
I had a similar arrangement with My Conor when we first started going out. He came home and said he kissed a girl from sales, no tongues.
I said I spent eight hours in a sex dungeon with a well-known auctioneer. And before you ask, there were tongues.
It’s so easy to get a nickname in West Cork. I came back from a hen party in Clonakilty known as Extra-Aurdinree, for reasons I can’t really discuss in a family newspaper. (Gymnastics.)
I don’t see anything wrong with going out with someone older than you, as long as you manage to close your eyes and pretend she’s 57.
If you want more on dating a senior, I’d highly recommend my latest self-help book. It’s called Just Make Sure You Get In The Will.