Ask Audrey: 'Cairo is basically Limerick with a few pyramids'

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Ask Audrey: 'Cairo is basically Limerick with a few pyramids'

This was the weekend I was supposed to be inducted into RRWAP (Rochestown Road Women Against Poverty - it’s a charity that laughs at poor people.) Unfortunately, they ran a background check and discovered my dark secret. You see, 14 years ago, I won a makeover competition o where they plucked some poor misfortunate from Fairhill and turned her into a southsider. It was great, they taught me to say “excited about” instead of “excited for”, and also the importance of crossing Patrick Street so you don’t get sucked into Penneys. Anyway Chloe, the head of RRWAP, says if I don’t give her the keys to my house to Crookhaven she’s going to hire a plane to fly over the Rochestown Road with a banner saying, “Tina is a Norry”. Do you think I should break her legs like? —Tina, Rochestown Road and Fairhill #Ashamed.

I couldn’t possibly condone violence. And listen, you’ve absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I know it isn’t Sundays Well or Blackrock, but there is nothing wrong with the Rochestown Road, (As long as the wind isn’t blowing from Passage.)

C’mere, what’s the story with Lonely Planet taking the piss out of Cork. I was down for a walk by Shandon last night, thinking how lucky I am to live in paradise, when this tool on the radio said the Lonely Planet named Galway as the 4th best city in the world. Sorry now like, but I brought the old doll to Galway once and they laughed in our faces in a restaurant when she asked for bodice. Like, how can that be a good way to welcome a visitor? Is there somewhere I can appeal the Lonely Planet decision? — Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

My neighbour moved to Galway because she loves bongos and hen parties. I said how did people up there greet the news? She said, they’re devastated. I said, why? She said, because Cairo also made the list and that place is like Limerick with a few pyramids. #Harsh #OnCairo

We’re bringing Hugo and FiFi into the Blaze of Jazz parade in town on Friday night. As with all these things, it’s Operation Make Sure You’re Not Standing Next to A Norry. My Ken brought them in last year and ended up in a selfie with a woman who does 78% of her weekly shop in Iceland. (We had to take legal action to stop her posting it on the Facebook page, Cork Snobs In Obvious Pain.) Anyway, I took a look at the route map there, and it’s hard to spot anywhere that is 100% safe. My strategy is go to the start of the parade, because the Norries will still be at home finishing off their tea of a lard burger and two cans of Fosters. Good idea? — Monica, Blackrock Road.

The Posh Cousin is all over this. She’s running a mini-bus from Cork Con into town for the parade, 40 quid a head to discourage people from Turners Cross. She said, all I need now is something middle class that is guaranteed to repel the lower orders. I said, try singing Ireland’s Call. #JesusMeEars

I’m the leading social media influencer in Cork, based on the number of times my social welfare office said, “This influencing thing isn’t really working out, have you thought about going back to the nail bar.” #BitchIssimus And in fairness, it’s hard to get a mortgage when the payment for my last gig read ‘A weekend break in our four star hotel, dinner on the evening of your choice, dessert and steak not included.’ This got me thinking. #TheEnvironment #Passion4PolarBears. A lot of my followers are gullible nerds, so I was thinking of joining Extinction Rebellion, that thing where posh young people stop the traffic for a few days so they can lob the gob at each other. Could you help me join? — @YouSoWishLike, Turners Cross and Monte Carlo

My nephew says he can’t sleep because of the impending ecological disaster, but we all know it’s because of the mushrooms he scored off Mad Mike in Goleen. I said, is Extinction Rebellion in need of more publicity? He said, of course. I said, ok, so what would you say to a leading social media influencer joining your ranks? He said, I’d say #PissOff. #ThatsANo

How’re oo goin on? Is it possible the internet is listening to the intimate conversations I have with herself? 30 minutes after we had a full and frank discussion on my inability to sustain a erection, I started getting emails advising me how to get blood to my boner, no less. Unfortunately, I had text-to-voice turned on in my phone, and weren’t the two of us inside in Mass. The upshot is I am now known as the biggest eejit in Dunmanway and Chryssst that’s saying something. Should I go back to an old Nokia? —Dan Paddy Andy, Dunmanway, I’m barred from Mass for a whole month.

Nice one. I’m convinced the internet is listening to my every word. My Conor came home last night and said he had evidence that I was cheating on him – he was very emotional in fairness and said ‘I hope you rot in hell’. 30 seconds later I got an email advertising a weekend break in Clonmel. #Coincidence?

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