I’m sorry to hear that. You obviously haven’t heard the First Commandment of dating a Kerry woman – Thou shalt wear ear-plugs in bed unless you want to hear about the lads. If you think that’s bad, I changed my medication once and ended up dating a guy from Listowel by mistake. Let’s just say there are sexier things at orgasm time than a freckled guy called Ger shouting “Here comes de Gooch, here comes DE GOOCH!” (I was in counselling for a month after him.)
I’d be astonished if she didn’t go to St Al’s. I asked my Posh Cousin if she knew of a killer question to flush out a Norrie. She said you need the Tony Test. I said how does it work. She said you ask How’s Tony, and if they say anything other than “As if I’d know a Tony!”, you’re talking Grade One Norrie Alert. It’s all learning with the Posh Cousin.
It’s a big ask. My guess is you’ll be the first vegan in West Cork without a trust fund or a rusty Volkswagen van known as The Spliffmobile. If you’re going to stand up for yourself, do it soon. Three days without milk or bacon for a West Cork man, and you’ll barely be able to lift your arm.
I can’t see that changing. It’s awkward when you have a friend crashing alright. My Conor’s friend, Maccer, stayed with us for a week after he had a thing with a mystery brunette. Things were very tense, mainly because I was the mystery brunette. (You should have seen the thighs on Maccer.)
It makes a change from nob-end. My techy nephew is involved in a research project to develop a spray to deter Norries. I said, what’s it called. He said Noreepell. I said what’s in it. He said things that Norries hate. I said you mean like recycling and spending more than 12 quid on a main course. He said ha ha. I said have you tested it? He said not yet, do you know any Norries. I said what do you think I am, a social worker?