I don’t think you’ll have a problem, the Posh Cousin imported a robot from Rio de Janeiro for Christmas. I saw her in Brown Thomas yesterday and shouted: ‘How are you things with your Brazilian?’ She said great, I can’t wait to show it my new robot. #Misunderstanding. (No one batted an eyelid.)
Not if you pull up a Norry over a bit of grammar. I had to date this guy from Farranree once, as part of my community service. (Never start a pyramid scheme in south Kerry, they’re actually not as thick as they look.) This Norry said, Audrey girl I’d love to give something new a go in the old bed. I said, how about you stop using the present continuous. He said, do that be southside slang for condoms. #Speechless
Never again on the prosecco breakfast, I get fierce giddy. I was two glasses in when my mother-in-law rang this year. She said, what did you give My Conor for Christmas. I said, Chlamydia Beatrice. She said, that’s what I was known as in college. (She was on her second bottle of bubbles. Double hilaire.)
I’d say you’re snookered. The definition of an intellectual in Crookhaven is someone who doesn’t drink Heineken.
Aren’t you lucky. I steer well clear of the drugs myself. My Conor is always at me to try a joint with him, he says it does great things for your orgasm and there is no loss of short term memory. I said, who told you that. He said, who told me what? #Langball.