has been sorting out Cork people for ages...
Fair play to the GAA for letting Rod play the Páirc. I presume his support act will be a charity gaelic football match, I’d hate for them to break their own rules. I checked with my contact in Met Éireann. He said as long as Donald Trump stays in power, the forecast for next May is 430 degrees celsius, with light mercury showers.
Yes. From yourself. I asked my Posh Cousin is it normal for a Blackrock snob to allow a gang of Norries into his home. She said not really unless you are interviewing for a cleaner. I said, what would these Norries need to feel at ease walking around a southside mansion? She said a balaclava and the code for the alarm.
As if there’s any other kind. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re two months too late. You’re nobody in Posh Cork this September if you don’t have a gorgeous Scottish guy following you around with an earpiece, wondering if he’s going to get into your knickers. Anyway, enough about my stalker.
I’d rather give a sponge bath to Des Cahill. (Imagine.) My best friend became a relationship counsellor because she’s too lazy to find a job. I asked her do friends fall out if they share a partner. She said, well you and I are still talking. I said, I forgot we had that big fight over Tiny Tim. She said yes, and the loser got to keep him. #ReallyTiny
I certainly wouldn’t notice, I never get on a flight without drinking at least five gin and tonics. (It would be more if I was a nervous flyer.) My cousin is a travel agent, she has been tasked with getting Norries to go somewhere other than Lanzarote. (#Impossible.) She said, why doesn’t he just distribute them across four or five checked in bags. I said, because he’s flying Ryanair and it would be cheaper to buy the plane.