Ask Audrey: I woke up this morning without feeling as rough as a pub on Blarney Street

Sorting out Cork people for ages ...

Ask Audrey: I woke up this morning without feeling as rough as a pub on Blarney Street

Sorting out Cork people for ages ...

Hey, It’s Ken here from Douglas Road Doctors with American Accents. I didn’t bother getting that €9.99 a month for life mobile phone offer everyone is talking about, because guess what loser-oonies, I don’t need to save money! There is nothing you can do about that. Unfortunately, my nurse girlfriend from Passage West signed up her ‘Mam’ for it, and she asked me to swap in her new SIM, family stuff, crazy. Anyway, I’m going down to ‘The Mam’s’ tiny house on Saturday BY MYSELF. This is the first time Dr Ken and The Mam will spend time together alone. What are we going to talk about? — Dr Ken, Douglas Road.

I have a podcast about this, it’s called I Suppose You’re Imagining Me Having Sex With Your Daughter. Don’t worry though — there’s no shortage of things you can say to a woman who lives in Passage. I usually start by asking why she never moved. (Even just to Carrigaline.)

C’mere, what’s the story with losing interest in sex at the age of 42. I got fierce turned on Christmas morning when the old doll handed me my present and said, this will help us make music together now Dowcha Donie. I wasn’t exactly over the moon when it turned out to be a pair of ukuleles. (She told me she read this book about feelings which said that making music is a great way to bring people together — did no one tell her about Oasis?) Anyway, four hours of playing “Row Row Your Boat” leaves me feeling about as sexy as those ads where your wan pretends to be delighted because she is wearing incontinence knickers. I never thought I’d say this at the age of 42, but I’m actually losing my interest in the auld bangy bangy. How can I tell my old doll that the ukuleles have to go girl? — Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

I called up my sex-expert friend, Straight Talking Sonya and said, what would you recommend to a guy who is disappointed with his girlfriend’s ukuleles. She said, maybe suggest a boob job. (This place is going like Mrs. Brown’s Boys.)

So, like, I am the leading social media influencer in these islands, measured by the number of times I private message my rival influencers with “you ok hun?” after they put up a post of themselves looking ‘gorgeous’, totally undermines their confidence. #CutThroat #Bitch-Ay. I don’t have children because I hate them, but wouldn’t mind posting a few Instagram stories with common looking kids because I’m trying to do a lot more influencing with the Norries this year. #WithoutCrossingTheRiver #Barbarians. So, like, what kinds of things do people get up to with their manky kids? — @YouSoWishLike, Turners Cross and Monte Carlo

My friend has a book on parenting called Look, At Least They’ll Wipe Your Arse When You Get Old. I said, what do people do with their kids at this time of year. She said, pretend they don’t exist. (You’d be demented after two weeks of Christmas holidays.)

How’re oo’ goin’ on? Herself has decided to broaden her mind for the new year and didn’t she start reading the English newspapers. (There was a time you’d be shot for it.) Anyway, she saw this story in the London Independent no less which said that growing pampas grass outside your house is a signal to people that you are swingers. (That’s what the English call letting your neighbour have a go off your wife.) Well, we have this pampas grass at the end of our own drive, and now that I think about, didn’t Tim Pat Tim Pat Timmy Timmy Tim Pat call here Monday with his wife, him on a lead, herself in the leathers. Do you think they got the wrong idea? — Dan Paddy Andy, go out beyond Dunmanway until you see a man who only has laces in one of his boots.

I rang the HQ of the Irish Swingers Association there and said, can you tell if someone is a swinger just by looking at their house? She said that won’t work here in Kinsale, all the houses are obscured. I said, by what? She said, pampas grass. #IsAnyoneSurprised?

Hello old stock. Myself and Hoggy are doing dry January this year because I read somewhere that chicks love a guy who isn’t drunk all the time. We were out last night and didn’t I drink 17 pints of alcohol-free beer without once shouting “I was in school with your uncle” at a blondie one half my age. (And they said the art of flirting is dead.) Not only that, I woke up this morning without feeling as rough as a pub on Blarney Street. The only problem is I also woke up at home with my wife Marjorie lying next to me in the bed. So cut to the chase now Reggie, I think I could probably give up the drink, but I’d be lost without the old infidelity, do you know that kind of way. Is this some kind of medical condition now and what’s it called? — Reggie, Blackrock

My friend runs a dating-cheating agency for married men, it’s called Just Tell Your Wife You’re Going Cycling With The Lads. I said, what do you call someone who doesn’t want to stop cheating on their partner? She said, Audrey. #Bitch

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