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I am having sleepless nights over this new Eircode address that we got in the post. What is the point in owning a massive house on the Blackrock Road (surrounded by millionaires), if it isn’t obvious from my Eircode number. I mean like, for all people know, I might actually live on the northside. Or Waterford! What can I do? (Cliona, Blackrock Road (surrounded by millionaires.)
The last time I was surrounded by millionaires was when I woke up in the RCYC after crashing out during Cork Week. I haven’t touched a Mojito since. I’ve heard a rumour that you can contact Eircode and they’ll put some letters into your identifier to indicate that you are an outrageous snob who thinks she’s it. Get one of your servants to give them a call there. You don’t want to end up talking to someone who drives an 03 Opel Corsa and has never seen an Aga. That could scar you for life, Cliona.
C’mere, herself is 40 next week and I said I’d buy her something special to cheer her up. Where is the best place to get a saucy pair of knickers in Cork city? (Ciaran, Bandon)
I’d say in at the back of my wardrobe, but I’d be afraid you might turn up at my door. I hear you Bandon- types are fierce keen. I can understand why you have to come up to town for this purchase though. A cousin of mine was spotted looking in the window of a lingerie shop in Dunmanway 20 years ago. They still call him Jerry the Perv. There are plenty of lingerie shops around Cork. You could also try a saucier place like the Ann Summers shop on Princes Street. I hear they have a secret exit out through a manhole on Oliver Plunkett Street. You don’t want word getting around Bandon that you were up in Cork buying a Rampant Rabbit. Your poor wife will only be getting her hopes up.
G’day. I am one of those annoying Irish people who say g’day, even though I only moved to Australia in 2012. Anyway, all the talk down here is that the Irish economy has recovered and it could be time to move home. What do you think? (Denis, Ballyvolane and Sydney)
I think I’ll swap places with you. July was so cold around here that wearing a pair of sandals is (once again) considered a sign of insanity. My guess is that the poor eejits forced to read out the weather forecast are pumped up on happy pills so they don’t burst out crying about the latest angry belt of low pressure blowing in from the North Pole. I am seriously considering moving down under. I know people say the Aussies are cocksure types who think they are better than everyone else. But sure I’d be well used to that after living in Cork.
Hola. I am a Spanish woman working here in Cork for five years. I have fallen in love with a local boy, mainly because he is the first guy I have met who does not seem like a borderline alcoholic. I want to buy him a present that won’t break the bank. What would you recommend? (Ana, Malaga and Turner’s Cross)
I hear there is great value is Cork GAA jerseys this August. I’d say the shop would nearly give you one if you bought a three-pack of tennis balls. Here’s the problem, though. If you give an Irish man a present when it isn’t his birthday, he will think you are some kind of bunny boiler. That might be OK in Spain, where ye like to eat all sorts, but over here, it is a term that means you are bonkers. What an Irish man wants most from a Spanish woman is a written guarantee that she is not completely turned off by his weird freckles. That’s what I would suggest you give him, as long as you don’t mind lying through your teeth.
Guten Tag. I am visiting your city next week for a bit of culture. Is it considered normal to tip people in restaurants and taxis and such like? (Bastian, Bremen)
A word of warning for anyone coming here for a bit of culture. I’ve said it before — the definition of an intellectual in Cork is someone who goes into the Crawford Art Gallery when it isn’t raining. Just saying. Now. Tips. For restaurants, it depends on your age. Anyone under 50 will normally leave a tip of between 10% and 15%. Anyone over 50 will refuse to tip, saying “Why should I pay someone to bring out my food? Do they expect me to go in there and take my steak from the chef, like?” They will say this loud enough so everyone in the restaurant can hear. You’d be mortified, Bastian.The rule in taxis is you tip 10% as long as the driver doesn’t start banging on about the eejits that designed the cycle lane on South Main Street. Trust me, that tip is worth every cent.
My guess is the poor eejits forced to read out the weather forecast are pumped up on happy pills so they don’t burst out crying about the latest belt of low pressure blowing in from the North Pole
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