Ask Audrey: Spending more than 150 is My Big Fay Gypsy Confirmation

Ask Audrey has been sorting out Cork people for ages.

G’day. C’mere what do be the story with no one on Pana? I’m home from Australia, and there wasn’t a sinner around when I went into town yesterday afternoon. Patrick’s Street actually looked like someone had shouted: “The Kanturk bus is in ye langers, run for your lives.” Is there some kind of strike on or something?

— Squidge, Pouladuff Road, how does anyone enjoy themselves in this weather?

By shipping all the gobshites off to Australia. I asked my Posh Cousin what’s the idea behind the traffic ban on Patrick’s Street. She said the city council has a plan to turn Cork into Ireland’s Pompeii by this time next year — all going well, it will just be guided tours with a robot saying “and over there used to be Mandy’s.” I said, is there any chance that city centre trade will be saved by people using the Park and Ride. She said, when was the last time you saw a Cork person with money getting on a bus? I said never.

Myself and my daughter Fifi went to Milan to pick out her confirmation dress. (Six grand, shoes not included.) We arrived home yesterday to find a note from her school saying all the kids will be wearing the same cape on the day, to prevent any showing off and flagrant displays of wealth. (It’s like they literally don’t understand the meaning of the word confirmation.) Obviously I’m not going to take this lying down. Do you have any pull in the Department of Education, to get the principal fired?

— Michelle, Blackrock, I got a new set of breasts for the big day.

It’s important to look well for the Bishop. Bad news. Spending more than 150 quid on a confirmation outfit is the same is putting your child in a t-shirt saying ‘Proud to be A Norry’. That’s actually the opening line of my new book, the Little Book of Posh Cork. You’re no one without it.

My girlfriend and I are looking to buy a house that reflect the fact I went to Pres. Unfortunately we did our sums last night and the best we can afford is a place in Glanmire. I don’t know how to break this to my mother, because she had an operation on her heart last month. There is no point in asking for help from my girlfriend’s parents, because they are only from Wilton and you can’t get blood from a stone. What is the best way to ask my parents for enough money to buy my own place on the Rochestown Road?

— Alan, Rochestown Road, but for how long?

20 minutes is long enough for me. In fairness, I feel sorry for you. It must be awful going out with someone from Wilton. The only things of note out there are an ugly hospital and a huge walking track for old people. (Or Wilton Shopping Centre, as it’s known locally.)

Bonjour, old stock. Hoggy and myself have been here in Bordeaux all week for the Munster match. We’re doing what we do best, complimenting the lovely ladies with whistling sounds and ooh laa laas, and pretending to be French whenever we meet someone from Limerick. (Hoggy is suspicious of any city that doesn’t have a Royal Yacht Club.) Anyway, didn’t Hoggy turn to me just now and say, shag this Reggie old stock, let’s live together in France for the rest of our lives. How can I tell if he’s gay or just full of wine?

— Reggie, Blackrock, or La Roche Noire as I have taken to calling it.

That’s pretentious, even for Blackrock. I asked my gay nephew are there any tell-tale words a man uses to signal that he’s a homosexual. He said there is one actually — if he says the word ‘yes’ when another man suggests sex, that’s a very clear sign. I said there’s no need to be so smart.

So, I’m a graduate accountant working for one of the top companies in Dublin. I forgot to like carry the one when doing the tax return for a big client, and as a punishment they sent me to a job in Macroom. So, I totally can’t tell if the locals are clearing their throats, or just saying hello. Is there like an app that can help me during my stay in this boghole?

— Gordon, Dublin, so, why does everyone down here seem to happy?

So, because when you are living in Macroom, the only way is up. (Unless you take a wrong turn and end up in Millstreet.) There is an app that can help you, it’s called Google Maps. Plug in Cork there and drive east until you reach a place where the smell is barely noticeable. (AKA Ovens). I rang my uncle in Macroom yesterday for some local insights. He said, do you know that Macroom is known as the town that never reared a fool. I said, so you were all born one. He said I never looked at it that way. At least I think that’s what he said.