Ask Audrey: Elocution advice from a Waterford woman is like hairstyle tips from Boris Johnson

Sorting out Cork people for years...

Ask Audrey: Elocution advice from a Waterford woman is like hairstyle tips from Boris Johnson

Sorting out Cork people for years...

I haven’t stopped crying since I got back from Crookhaven on Monday. Every single woman there this year had a jaw-dropping set of new boobs, while I was forced to walk around with my three-year-old chin. In fairness to my Ken, he promised to go to Jersey in a few weeks and come back with enough cash in used 50s for a new nose. (It’s entirely legit.) In the meantime, I was thinking nothing screams loaded on the Douglas Road more than a few days in the Bons. Unfortunately I’m not sick, but do you have any pull in Bon Secours hospital to get in there for three nights?

– Monica, Douglas Road, I’d be demanding a private room.

So would anyone they put you in with. I asked my Posh cousin about this. She said the Bons has a room set aside for your situation. I said how does it work. She said the room is overlooking Sunday’s Well, so after 10 minutes in there the Douglas Road ‘patient’ has to be admitted with a case of acute jealousy. (Don’t they think of everything?)

Ciao, I flew into Cork from Milan this morning. It was a beautiful flight, gained two new girlfriends, lost one when she spotted me coming out of the toilets with the other. (And they say air hostesses are supposed to be liberal.) Anyway, when we touched down I was surprised that all the locals on the plane started clapping. The woman next to me started sobbing a little, so I put my arms around her and said she was more beautiful than the Bay of Naples. She said “Stall the ball Pervy Pedro, these are tears of joy, boy.” Why do the Cork people clap like so?

– Benito, Milan.

It’s always a nervous time flying into Cork. (And not just because the runway is tighter than a Togher mam’s dress on communion day). One whiff of fog at Cork and you could be diverted to Shannon, which means a drive through Limerick, which this week means watching the locals dancing like monkeys because they finally won a match in Croke Park. #EasilyPleased

Hello old stock. Hoggy’s wife stumbled on his hilariously complicated love life last week when she finally cracked his gmail password. (DirtyFilthyNorries2000. It would have been my first guess.) She said he either changes completely or she’s out the gap, so I told her I’d bring him to the Crawford yesterday for a bit of culture. What I didn’t tell her is that they have an exhibition of nudes running at the moment. We toddled along and half of Cork Con was in there staring at people in the nip. (It was very like a party I went to in Kinsale.) Do you think this counts as art or is it pornography

– Reggie, Blackrock

I have a sophisticated cousin, Pretentious Peadar. He got a degree in the History of Art because he’s terrified of getting out of bed before 10:30. I referred your question on to him. He said it only counts as porn if you get turned on. I said the paintings are mainly of nude Irish people. He said that’s definitely art. #NotGreatInTheNip

Hello. I don’t like to boast, but I’m from one of the top fives families in Waterford. My daughter married a guy from Kanturk a few years ago; we were worried he was unsuitable until he showed us the paperwork for his illegal offshore accounts. (14 of them. #Bingo.) The problem is their two kids are being reared in north Cork, so instead of talking, they mutter like little goats. I’ve tried mocking them to get them to speak properly, but no dice. What would you recommend?

– Rebecca, Passage Road, I don’t like to boast but it’s one of the best areas in Waterford.

You’re grand, that’s not a boast. It’s like saying you have the best dress sense in Cappoquin. (#LindaMartin1992.) I’m usually slow to side with semi-literate north Cork bogmen, but I’ll make an exception in this case, given where you’re from. Sorry now, but taking elocution advice from a Waterford woman is like getting hairstyle tips from Boris Johnson.

C’mere, what’s the story with Grenagh? The old doll do be non-stop cribbing at me to move out there, because she’s sick of living in the city. Her buddy do be living there and she says it’s wall to wall northsiders who moved out, so there do be no problem trying to make conversation with nobby southsiders. I said I’d rather talk rugby to some Pres boy than live next door to some muck-savage who do be in love with his tractor. What’s the solution?

– Dowcha Donie, Blackpool.

I passed this on to my cousin, the estate agent. He said he’d have to check with the new office in his company that deals with Norries. I said why do you decide to keep them separate? He said, guess.

I said the smell of Penney’s perfume in the meeting rooms was upsetting the southside clients? He said yes. #IJustKnew

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