As we enter the final week of the election campaign, our in-house agony aunt Ask Audrey shares her tips for dealing with canvassers, and tries to predict the winners.
Hello to all the readers out in Lanzarote. Such a shame you couldn’t afford Dubai or Florida, but still, fair play for escaping the ‘Oh Shite, A Canvasser, You Answer It’ fight when there’s a ring on the door.
A quick look at the clock will tell you the time of day. Fine Gael are always first because they like getting up early in the morning.
I always listen to what they have to say because they have such lovely posh voices.
When I’ve had enough, I say “Tell Leo to stop talking about those who have to get up early in the morning — we all know he has no interest in people who are forced to sleep rough.”
You should see the look on their ski-tanned faces — you’d swear I suggested a massive rise in inheritance tax.
One other thing about Fine Gael — if they mention the success of the Brexit negotiations, tell them you have a garden gnome that could outsmart Boris Johnson. They hate that.
The key with Fianna Fáil people is to make sure you don’t look them in the eyes.
My Posh Cousin is well connected there and tells me their secret election strategy is to hypnotise the entire electorate so we can’t remember anything before 2010.
“Look in my eyes, look in my eyes, when you wake up you will feel absolutely nothing when I use the terms ‘troika’, ‘Bertie’ or ‘why has everyone gone to Australia?’”
I did get chatting with one Fianna Fáiler the other night, because I could tell from his voice that he had gorgeous shoulders. (It’s my party piece!)
I said, what’s your slogan? He said, An Ireland for All. I was going to ask him what that meant but I reckoned he didn’t know either.
Maybe it will make more sense when they translate it into English.
My Posh Cousin also filled me on Fianna Fáil celebrations in Cork if Micheál Martin gets the top job.
They are going to light a series of bonfires around the city that can be seen from space, spelling out the phrase “Ye are never going to hear the end of this, ye shower of langers.”
Honestly though, it would great to see a Turner’s Cross man become Taoiseach.
If nothing else, he’s bound to build them a brand new swimming pool, and they’ll stop coming over here to Douglas for a quick dip. (You never know what you’d catch.)
I get a good laugh out of the Greens — it’s hilarious that half of posh Cork is flying back from their skiing holidays to give them a vote.
One of them called here the other night and she said the old order is going to be swept away by the Green wave.
I said, unless the rising sea levels get there first. I thought she’d never stop laughing — they have the oddest sense of humour.
But the Greens really are making an impact here in Posh Cork.
My friend is the second richest woman in Ballintemple measured by the number of times she mentions she never once used a price comparison website.
I said, what are you doing to reduce your use of plastic? She said, I use Apple Pay on my three grand iPhone, credit cards are for people in Farranree. Hilaire.
I always have a good laugh with the Sinn Féin crowd. One of them called the other day and said they have plans to deal with the pensions time-bomb.
I said, I never knew ye were good at defusing them as well. I could actually see him blushing under his balaclava. (Only messing. His face stayed the same colour.)
Sinn Féin have some very good people, along with Paddy Holohan. He’s the former MMA fighter and now former Sinn Féin councillor after he made some outrageous allegations about women, as well as saying he would like the leader of the country to be ‘a family man’.
That kind of talk is going to wreck the reputation that red-haired Irish MMA fighters have for peace, love and tolerance.
Still, I love that Sinn Féin are in favour of equality — if they could make me equal to my friend who owns half a palace on the Blackrock Road, that would be great.
And at least they don’t seem as accident prone as other parties.
Fine Gael’s main role in life is providing a career boost for the Wolfe Tones.
Their song, ‘Come Out Ye Black and Tans’, topped both the British and Irish iTunes charts after the Government suggested a commemoration for the Royal Irish Constabulary.
I’m not saying Leo is out of touch, but would anyone be surprised if he promised to build a new bridge in Drogheda and name it after Oliver Cromwell? (We’d never get over it. Boom!)
Speaking of faux pas (that’s French for Maria Bailey), we had Cork East Fianna Fáil TD Kevin O’Keeffe tweeting a photo of himself standing next to a stretch limo.
There was a backlash on Twitter, where people don’t understand that a stretch limo is seen as a sign of panache and ambition in East Cork, rather than something you hire for your grads.
Fair play to Kevin, he managed to delete the tweet, which is probably the limit of what he knows about social media.
In the interests of fairness, I should mention Labour and the Social Democrats. So, Labour and the Social Democrats.
I love the Independents. Shane Ross is so posh he makes Simon Coveney look like someone you’d see in the queue in Lennoxes. (Don’t be surprised if you do see him there next week. Nothing says election more than a posh politician asking for a salad burger in a lower-order accent.)
And then there’s the bogger independents, whose main policy is to reintroduce drink-driving into rural Ireland.
I rang my nephew the political anorak the other night and said I presume I’m not interrupting a date with a woman.
He said, don’t be ridiculous. I said, what’s the story with culchie independents? He said, it looks like the two Healy-Raes are safe.
I said, that’s great for the people in south Kerry. He said, because the two lads will be away in Dublin a lot of the time? I said, yes.
Anyway, prediction time.
I’m not into gambling, which is why I always bring a bottle hand-sanitiser to Macroom. #Crawling.
And it’s hard to know which way the election is going to go — the young people are furious, because Love Island is desperate this year. (The only funny bit was Connor’s hair, and they voted him out.)
But judging by the polls, the next Taoiseach will be a man who gets into bed with Mary Lou McDonald even though he swore blind that he wouldn’t. (Please tell Paddy Holohan ‘getting into bed’ is a metaphor, so no need to get upset on the family man front. It might be a good idea to explain metaphor as well.)
This a big moment really. Any right-minded posh person knows Sinn Féin has no place in government, unless it’s in the North.
And sure haven’t we done grand without them, if you overlook homelessness, hospital waiting lists, a lost decade, poor air quality and dirty rivers.