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Ciao. I am currently visiting Cork from Italy, to see my son Guido. He was such a good boy at home, but here he has five girlfriends, perhaps because Irish men look like extremely ugly pigs. My Guido, he is, how you say, like a dog with two mickeys. What can I do? — Annabella, Milan, I am a striking looking woman.
Not for much longer. You probably don’t need me to tell you that Italian women shrink after 50 and shuffle around the kitchen in slippers. I actually run an advisory service for over-sexed Italian men. (As if there’s any other kind.) If you send Guido to me, the fee is €50. I’m glad to pay it, because it can be so hard to get an Italian man on Tinder. I’m also glad to try and help with his sex addiction — in this case I usually just show photos of women from Carrigaline.
Any crack in Cork? I suppose five or six of ye will head to Killarney on Sunday to watch your footballers get a hiding. I’d like to cordially invite you to come to Killorglin to watch the match with us. I know you have said some terrible things about us in this very paper, but I’m sure if you were to meet us and spend time in our town, you’d change your mind. — Paul, Killorglin, I actually have a Master’s degree from UCC.
I bet you its only in Arts though. I am currently making up a list of things I’d rather do, than spend an afternoon in Killorglin. It includes waking up naked on Oliver Plunkett Street and being eaten by a shark. (I have personal experience of one of those.) So, I’ll have do decline your offer. I was going to say kind offer, but who are we kidding? As for the game, no one in Cork cares about the footballers. Unless they win, in which case I’ll be getting a tattoo of Peadar Healy on my arm.
Hello old stock. I’ve decided to steer clear of Crookhaven this summer after I spotted someone down there with a TK Maxx bag. (It’s gone like Benidorm.) So, myself and Marjorie are after renting a place in Schull. Do you think that’s a suitable village for someone of my standing? — Reggie, Blackrock Road, I’ve one of those tans you can only get at sea.
I have one of those tans you can only get in Penney’s. Schull has an unusual social structure. There’s the haves and have yachts. Below that you have the locals. They are allowed into town up to 10am every day, so they can ‘get their messages’ and shout ‘how’re oo goin’ on?’ at each other, while wiping their noses in their sleeves. Finally, at the bottom, you have rich Dublin people, who don’t seem to realise there is no point being worth €7.3 million in west Cork during the summer, if don’t send your daughter to Scoil Mhuire.
Guten Tag. I recently set out to do my NCT at the Blarney Test Centre. That was four days ago and I have yet to find the place. I am currently somewhere in North Cork, behind a tractor with a sticker that says, ‘I’m late for Mass’. What do I need to do to get out of here? — Jurgen, Berlin and Ballincollig
The Central Statistics Office estimates that 43 people a year go missing on their way to the Blarney Test Centre. I hear it can be harder to find than someone in Kanturk who understands the rules of Connect 4. I’ve never actually been in north Cork, but my Posh Cousin runs a charity that rescues Cork city people who end up there by mistake. She said the only way to survive what you are going through, is to act as if you are driving through a safari park. I said that’s a bit harsh. She said I know, some of the monkeys in those parks can be quite intelligent.
How’re oo goin on? Herself tells me we’re going to my niece’s wedding next week. Her fiancée is part of the hipsters apparently, and instead of beef or salmon, we’re going to get our dinner from something called a Food Van. What kind of crack is that at all, I don’t know? — Ger Jim Ger John, veer right outside Clonakilty until you see a man drying his pants on a gate.
The Food Van is very on-trend at weddings these days. It says three things. 1: We are nobheads. 2: We’re cutting costs so we can spend an extra honeymoon week in Ko Samui. 3: Don’t think this means you can give us less than €200 per couple. (Anything less is a bit ‘caravan in Garryvoe’, if you get my drift.) My flighty niece had a food van at her wedding last year. I was allergic until I got the eye off the hot Italian guy serving the food. It was quick but extremely satisfying. And so was the food.
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