Ask Audrey: The internet knows I’m looking for knickers

C’mere, what’s the story with the new Brittany Ferries boat, that’s going to sail from Cork to Spain, being called Connemara. Seriously like, if they want to sail from Galway, let them sail from Galway. This do be more of it now – I’m surprised they didn’t call it Dublin. Why couldn’t they just have a vote for Cork people, so we could pick a suitable name? – Dowcha Donie, Blackpool, I do be completely livid about this.

You do be livid about everything. I’m with you on this one though. What is this obsession with Connemara and the west coast? The place is riddled with bongo players who smell of kimchi and mushrooms. I asked my friend in marketing why they didn’t name the boat with a high-viz Leeside vox pop. (That’s the way they talk in marketing.) She said don’t be ridiculous, you know what Cork people would call it. I said do you mean De Boat? She said no, Corky McLangerSham. I said, you’re so right.

I’ve been awake all week worrying about Ed Sheeran. There’s talk his Páirc Uí Chaoimh concert won’t go ahead in May because of lighting problems on the way back into town. Could you have word with someone to make sure this doesn’t happen? – Colette, Blarney, I’m still bawling he got engaged.

I’d be bawling if he got engaged, to me. In fairness, the lighting isn’t great around the stadium. (Except of course for the spotlights installed by certain house owners in Blackrock, as an up yours to people looking down on them from Montenotte.) But look, maybe this is all for the best. I hate commenting on people’s looks, but the less lights around Ed Sheeran the better. And it’s probably better you can’t see your fellow fans walking back into town, given that half of them will have come from a cave somewhere in Tipperary. Although that probably won’t bother someone like yourself, from Blarney. (No offence.)

C’mere, what do be the story with ads for my old doll’s knickers? I Googled ‘tasteful lingerie’ today because I’m going to buy herself the annual Valentine’s pair of smalls that she may or may not like, it’s hard to tell. Anyway, now that the internet knows I’m looking for knickers, every page I visit does be showing ads with half-naked young ones. I’m finding it hard to get anything done, you know that kind of way. Any idea how I can make it stop? – Proud Paul, Togher, I do be terrified my mam will see my computer.

I do be terrified you call her mam. (You realise that could work against you in a job interview.) I know what you mean about the internet knowing your business though. The other day I Googled ‘how can I see a photo of the guy that will deliver my takeaway?’Five minutes later, I got an email from Deliveroo saying stop treating our delivery guys like a piece of meat. (As if.)

Hello old stock. Myself and my friend Hoggy are very interested in finding out more about the Viking ruins that were uncovered on South Main Street, Cork down by the new Event Centre. As Hoggy put it: “This is just the kind of intellectual hoo-ha that could get us talking to a pair of foreign fillies during Cork Week.” (Hasn’t he got a fantastic way with words?) So, do you know where we could find out more, without actually reading a book? – Reggie, Blackrock, it’s fascinating to think of these savages rampaging around the centre of our city.

Just like December 8, when the Kerry crowd came up to do their shopping. I’ll give you a quick lowdown. The Viking’s arrival in Cork dates back 1,000 years, which is also the length of time it will take to build the Event Centre. (All going well.) Now, the Waterford crowd are quick to point the Vikings came there first. But then the Waterford crowd are quick to lay claim to anything, given we have a proper ring road and Cillian Murphy, and they have to make do with blaas and Keith Barry.

I met this lovely guy on Tinder last week. He’s actually quite civilised for someone from Waterfall, and all his cousins went to Clongowes. (His own parents could only afford Pres. Tragic.) The problem is he drinks Beamish, which isn’t going to work at my cousin’s wedding next month. (Castlemartyr resort, Scoil Mhuire meets Midleton College, show-jumping, the crunch of Range Rover tyres on gravel in the drive.) As far as my family are concerned, Beamish is a drink enjoyed by binmen and Willie Whack, the guy who fixed our chimney. I’m thinking of promising my date all sorts (I mean all sorts) if he’ll switch to Heineken for the night? Any thoughts? – Belinda, Sunday’s Well, Murphy’s screams trainee plumber, don’t even go there.

As if. (Unless we had a leak.) You’re as out of date as meeting someone outside Mandys. Drinking Beamish these days is a sign of class, if by class you mean a bearded bore who lives on a bike. (And that’s just the women.)