Ask Audrey: 'Poor Leo can’t win. Unless he’s up against Simon Coveney'

Audrey has been sorting out Cork people for ages.

I can’t believe Leo Varadkar said people should ask their parents for a 20 grand deposit to buy a house. If word got out that my Hugo wanted a 20 grand deposit, I’d be drummed out of Sunday’s Well Tennis Club. Seriously, that would barely get you a house in one of those northside areas you read about in court reports, or maybe Carrigtwohill. (Imagine.) Someone has to tell Leo that he is completely out of touch. Could you do it please?

– Rebecca, Douglas Road, not the South Douglas Road (as if.)

Poor Leo can’t win. Unless he’s up against Simon Coveney. (Ouch, but there you have it.) I see after he made the deposit comment, Leo was accused of ‘flashing his posh boy credentials’. They obviously do things differently in Dublin. If you want to flash credentias on Leeside, just say “Are you seriously telling me there’s a place called Neptune Stadium.”

Totally one week as an organic farmer in West Cork and I wonder why I ever bothered doing Geography, or was it like History, in Trinity. My day goes like this. Buy cheese in SuperValu. Bring it home, take a photo of it, put it up on Instagram and pretend I made it myself. (Out-standing.) Write a poem. Yoga. Write another poem, this one about yoga. The only problem is my daft American neighbour Crystal Mermaid (not her real name.) She calls over every day to talk about her kimchi. Any ideas how I might put her off?

– Nath, formerly from Dublin 4, now outside Ballydehob.

I know what it’s like to have a neighbour obsessed with food. Jerry from number 47 knocked on the door yesterday and asked if I’d like to see his gherkin. I said, small bit of a pickle Jerry. He said don’t judge the size until you take a look. I still don’t know if we were talking about an actual gherkin.

C’mere what’s the story with sending harmless WhatsApp messages to a married old doll from work, in the middle of the night? My own old doll found out and accused me of micra-cheating. I said, don’t be ridiculous, nobody ever has sex in a Nissan. She said no, micro-cheating, with an o, it do be the new thing now and you do be doing it. I said, if you’re feeling left out, I can forward you the same videos of a polar bear dancing to Despacito. She said no, Dowcha Donie, this stops here. Do she be mad now or what like? 

– Dowcha Donie, Blackpool, are you on WhatsApp yourself?

I was until I read your email. I’m with your old doll on this (and very little else considering she lives in Blackpool.) Micro-cheating is the slippery slope. I ended up having an affair with a Munster squad player last year, after innocently calling to his house at 11pm with two bottles of champagne and a set of furry hand-cuffs. You just never know where these things will end up.

Hello old stock. My old mucker, Mickey B, was back in Cork last week, heavily disguised for tax reasons I can’t really discuss. Anyway, didn’t he have a crash going down Douglas Road when he spotted the new Iceland supermarket by the Briar Rose. No offence, but that’s nearly as common as watching TV3. Do you think they should put a sign up on the approach roads saying “This area has gone downhill, keep your eyes on the road”?

– Reggie, Blackrock, I’ve had a bid accepted for a holiday home in Kenmare.

Sorry for your troubles. I’m afraid that Kenmare means ‘Couldn’t Afford Crookhaven’ in certain circles. (I hear there are solid doubts in the RCYC about any area that can produce both Francis Brennan and the Healy-Raes. ) Anyway, you need to keep up to date, Reggie. Iceland has reinvented itself – it’s as popular in Posh Douglas as standing in the queue for KC’s chipper roaring “Wouldn’t hockey followed by an afternoon’s sailing give you a fierce appetite, all the same, Orla.”

I’ve an issue with my best friend, who has been living in Galway for years. The problem is we recently bought a place in Ballincollig, which everyone in Cork knows is a sign we’re pulling in 100 grand minimum. (We’re a fair bit above that, but I don’t want to boast.) Unfortunately, my friend left Cork in 1991, when the joke was, ‘What’s the difference between herpes and a house in Ballincollig?’ (You’ve some chance of getting rid of herpes. We all thought it was hillair.) Anyway, do you know how I can persuade her that I’m not mad, moving to Ballincollig.

– Aine, Ballincollig, and proud of it.

Aren’t you easily pleased? I have this friend who moved to Ballincollig after she failed to get a promotion. I asked her what one thing has improved the most out there. She said the smell disappeared when they they built the bypass. I said, no more traffic from Kerry? She said, don’t forget Macroom.