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How’re oo goin on? Herself is a keen follower of current affairs and hasn’t she come to the conclusion that Kim Jong-un is planning military action against Dunmanway. (I should point out that she recently changed her medication.) Do you know of anything I can say that might calm her down?
– Ger Da Ger-Ger, keep going beyond Dunmanway until you see a man trying to make a nuclear shelter with twine and bags of 10:10:20.
Tell her not to worry. Defence analysts have simulated the effects of dropping a 100 Megaton bomb on Dunmanway, and the overall result would be a slight improvement. If she is looking for something to worry about, tell her there is a man an hour away who thinks the fairies might have caused a dip on the road between Cork and Killarney. I rang my cousin in Kenmare to find out what she thinks of Danny Healy-Rae. She said I can’t think of anything more embarrassing. I said except maybe having relations in Kerry, and hung up. (You don’t want to give them any encouragement.)
God bless you, ma’am. We’re members of an exciting new religion from the United States, and we’re going door to door around your cities asking if people know Jesus. We’ve just been to Waterford, which was like crazy neat and now we’re coming to Cork. Do you think we’ll get a good welcome?
– Jethro, there is nothing better than the love of the Lord.
You’ve probably never tried afternoon sex with a hangover. Talk about being in heaven. The first thing you’ll notice after Waterford is that Cork people are slow to keep livestock in the house. (Particularly on the southside.) Mind you, the afterlife is always a hard sell on Leeside because it’s impossible to convince the locals they don’t already live in paradise. I was trying to describe heaven to my six- year-old nephew the other day. He said that sounds like Fitzgerald’s Park, if you banned all the Norries. I said, you’re learning quickly.
C’mere, what’s the story with the city boundary? I seen city people complaining that the bogmen in the county council don’t want to hand over Carrigtwohill and Ballincollig, as if that’s a bad thing. Like, no offence to locals in Carrigtwohill, but they’re basically Midleton people with an extra splash of Eau du Farmyard. Do you think we can stop the madness?
– Dowcha Donie, Blackpool, I’m a fifth generation Norry.
My condolences. You are right about one thing, though. It’s a very strange time in politics. People thought they had seen it all, with Brexit and Trump. And now here’s a group of people who want to hold on to Ballincollig! That’s harder to understand than a man from Belfast on his second pint. I was sitting next to one on the train from Dublinrecently. I said how about ye, to show a bit of sympathy for his hilariousaccent. He said, och, onlay day bayst and dat dare like. I said, wow, someone who makes less sense than Danny Healy-Rae. He said, that’s vvray hayrsh, so taz.
Hello old stock. I’m going up to Dublin this weekend to take a look at my cousin Hughie’s new girlfriend. (Intergalactic knockers, by all accounts. And that’s just Hughie, he’s been piling on the pounds since he stopped playing hockey.) Anyway, I’m going to take the train back down on Sunday evening, which would be fine except it is bound to be full of hurling fans. Do you know if Irish Rail will put on a Norry Free Carriage for well-heeled gents likes myself?
– Reggie, Blackrock Road, any idea when the rugby is coming back?
Not soon enough, Reggie. Posh Cork is weeping into its gin and tonic, with all this pretending to like hurling. I checked with Irish Rail and there is actually a carriage set aside for outrageous snobs suffering from delusions of grandeur. (No offence. Although you probably think that’s a compliment). To show the carriage is Norry free, there is a red line going through a cartoon-man on the window who’s saying, “I do beaddicted to white socks”.
I am in love with a Polish woman who works in my local supermarket. I find myself drawn to her queue at the checkout, particularly if it is full of old people, because one of them is bound to say, “Hang on love, I have to go back and get a packet of prunes”, and then I get to stand staring longingly at my love for an extra five minutes. (Or longer, depending on how old the customer is.) I can’t think of anything to say to her. Can you help?
–Seanie, I’m quite good looking for someone from Dungarvan.
That’s like saying I’m fairly sophisticated when you consider I’m from Kanturk. I think the best thing to say to her is “Fancy a drink with a tongue-tied creep?” All she can say is “no”, followed by “leave now and I won’t call security.”
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