Sorting out Cork people for years...
I’m vomiting. I asked my friend, HR Healy.
She said lob away, what’s the point of working all year if you can’t enjoy an end of year bonus.
I said, an end-of-year what?
She said keep it clean Audrey, it’s only natural you’d feel attracted to a workmate after a year of long, hard shifts.
I said you’re on fire with the double entendres. #NaughtyButNice
Congratulations. I passed on your question to my Posh Cousin.
She shook her head and said: “Sewing? That Monica is as deluded as a bus driver applying to join Sundays Well Tennis Club.” I said why?
She said you’re nobody in Posh Cork if your child’s costume isn’t Tom Ford or Oscar de La Renta.
I said, I can’t help feeling these people are missing out on something.
She said I know, they need to take another look at Prada.
I asked my environmentally conscious cousin, Eco Eileen, what’s behind the lack of snow in Lapland?
She said plane loads of ignorant Norries flying up there to look at Santa.
I said is there anything that can be done about it?
She said, I’ll have a think and let you know when I get back from skiing. #Ironic
No you couldn’t, she’s only getting warmed up with beating Banagher.
Let this slide and you’ll end up weeping on some $1,000-an-hour psychiatrist’s couch because she moved on to ‘look it’.
Sincerely man, once a Tipperary girl starts saying ‘look it’, there is no knowing when she might stop.
When they made you Reggie, they threw away the mould. (Deliberately.)
There’s actually a closed WhatsApp group now to pair posh Cork people up for this sort of thing — it’s called Don’t I Know You from Hockey.
You need to pay well into four figures a year to join this group, but they guarantee you’ll never again have to meet a Norry. (I know, it reminds me of the RCYC as well.)