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C’mere girl, what’s the story with Game of Thrones? At the start, it was fierce sexy like, they’d be diddling their sisters and everything.
I watched the first episode of the new season this week, and it was all emotions and angry women on the warpath, looking for revenge. (I do be getting enough of that from the old doll.)
Is there any point in watching it anymore? — Dowcha Donie, Blackpool, I don’t want people to be thinking I’m some kind of perv
You’re not alone — I don’t know any man who got into Game of Thrones because of a lifelong interest in dragons.
My Conor watched most of season two in slow motion. Although that was mainly because he had trouble keeping up with the plot.
My Posh Cousin is a huge fan as well. She said nothing beats it for outlandish make-up, cursing, and cheap sandals. I said what about Penneys on a Saturday afternoon? She said I know what you mean.
My daughter is getting married this weekend. I fear I’ll be a mess when I hand her over at the top of the aisle, because her future husband is only a fitter from Blarney.
His family are delighted with the match, and not just because we have our own parking space at Sunday’s Well Tennis Club. As you’d expect from fifth-generation Norries, they’re making all sorts of plans for a dreaded sing-song.
Can you think of an appropriate tune for me to sing? — Charles, Blackrock, I have the most elegant fingers
Have you considered singing ‘Creep’ by Radiohead? I think that would be perfect for you. Or maybe add your own verse to ‘The Boys of Fairhill’: ‘Oh, you’ll never catch me in Blackpool, Cos Pres is where
I went to school, Here’s up ’em all, said no one ever in Blackrock.’ I share your pain though. The only thing worse than a sing-song at a wedding is getting caught playing strip-poker in the lift with your husband’s hot cousin. (I had three aces and he was down to his socks.)
How’re oo’ goin on? We run a B&B here and who should arrive at the door last night, only two lesbians from Berlin.
I told them they were most welcome and indeed the first lesbians I’d seen outside of a video called Party Girls IV my cousin brought back from Amsterdam. Christ, but they didn’t say much after that. Do you think I might have insulted them? — Tom Tim Tanora, drive into the middle of Drinagh and say Jesus , I’d hate to live here
I asked my gay nephew what are the odds of two lesbians taking offence at something said by a mucksavage from west Cork (no offence.) He said I don’t know, why don’t you ask a lesbian?
I said ‘don’t get snotty with me girlfriend, it’s just that I don’t know any lesbians’. He said, ‘did you just call me girlfriend?’ I said ‘yes’.
He said ‘you have a really stereotypical view of gay people’. I said ‘I know, put on It’s Raining Men there and we’ll have a quick dance.’
Any crack? The new girlfriend is mad for us to have a fight so we can try make-up sex. Where is a good place to buy make-up? — Sully, Killorglin, I wouldn’t be the brightest
I’d say you’re close enough, in Killorglin. There seems to be a lot of confusion around this area.
When I told my Dublin boyfriend that I fancied make-up sex, he said ‘Ah Jaysus love, can we not just do the real thing?’ (I find Dublin men bring thick to the next level.) Make-up sex is in fact the bit of action you get with your partner after a fight. My friend, Giddy Fitz, put me on to it years ago.
She said she goes mad for it because you can’t beat a bit of angry sex. I said, as if there’s any other kind.
Hello old stock. There’s consternation across Posh Cork this week, after some report revealed that the most valuable property in the county is below in Kinsale.
As a very dignified old man said to me in Blackrock yesterday, it’s no joke coming second to that pack of wife-swappers.
Is there anything can be done to raise the value of property in Cork city? — Reggie, Blackrock, you can hear my booming accent from 100 yards away
That’s usually when I usually start running.
I heard a bit on the radio about that property price report alright. The guy said the highest values are in Dalkey, because you get to live next door to Bono and David McWilliams. That’s obviously regarded as a good thing, above in Dublin.
On one side, you have McWilliams sticking his foxy head over your garden fence to warn about negative equity. And on the other, Bono is hopping up and down in high heels trying to get you to sign a petition to end poverty.
Talk about the neighbours from hell.
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