Got an issue? Ask Audrey... she’s been sorting out Cork people for years.
Ciao. I am in love with two girls at work, one from Cork, the other Clare. They have asked me to go with them to the hurling final in Thurles this weekend. Do you think it will be romantic?
— Marco, Milan and Carrigtwohill, and what do you think I should wear?
I normally advise Italian men to wear something loose, so they can get it back on quickly, if my Conor arrives home early from golf. Now, your other question, about romance.
On a romance scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is Piazza San Marco in Venice at dawn, and 10 is Puck Fair, Munster Final Day comes in at 435. That drops to 537 when Clare are involved, because it’s hard to think of love when you see a busload of men drinking milk out of a bodhrán. In case you are wondering, bodhrán is an Irish word that means ‘a drum for simpletons’.
How’re oo goin’ on? Herself is after writing a dirty book and didn’t it take off like a Kerry man you caught eating your dinner. The good news about the book is we’re setup for life; the bad news is my neighbours who read the book are convinced that the bedroom business is based on real life. What can I do to persuade the good people of Dunmanway I’m into straight sex, nothing fancy?
— Mick Dick Mike, head out the Bantry road until you spot a man with matching socks.
You obviously like to stand out.
I’m the wrong person to ask about this. I haven’t had a reputation worth protecting since my name appeared on a Facebook page called Just Another Weekend In Kinsale.
I checked with my Posh Cousin, who’s a bit of a nun when it comes to sex.
She said you haven’t a hope of convincing the good people of Dunmanway. I said why not.
She said because there aren’t any. Very harsh.
My mother spotted some of Pippa Middleton’s friends in a Glengarriff pub and went over to tell them she always flies first class to New York. Before she could open her mouth, they asked what was soup of the day. She panicked and said, “Cream of Mushroom, you do realise I’m a two-time captain of Douglas Golf Club?” They looked at her like she was mad or maybe a Norry. What can I do?
— Monica, Sundays Well, she justifiably regards herself as the Queen of Cork.
In English royal circles, that places her between a stableboy and Prince Andrew. I have written a book for Cork snobs who end up out of their depth with British aristocrats.
It’s called They Might Not Have Heard of Pres.
The first chapter is ‘Don’t Name Drop Graham Norton, They Find Him a Bit Common’.
I also have some advice for snobs everywhere — nothing improves marriage prospects faster than when your sister marries a future king. (No offence, Pippa.)
My au pair’s mother died suddenly and she has flown home to Spain for a fortnight. It’s very sad really, because I don’t know the first thing about rearing kids. Worse again, they are following me around all day, looking for chocolate and affection. I can’t even find the time to nurse a Flat White in Cork Coffee Roasters and make eyes at a hot barista. This is a total mare and it’s ruining my summer. Do you know where I could find a short-term, replacement au-pair?
— Zoe, Blackrock, I’d need a plain girl, my Paul can’t keep his pants on.
My Conor struggles to get his off, and by then I’ve usually lost interest.
I talked to my brother there, who specialises in placing average girls in posh houses with a horndog husband.
He said there has been a surge in demand this summer and he can’t find any plain girls.
I said, did you try Clonmel? He said no, but I like the way you are thinking.
C’mere, what’s the story with the Gaeltacht. I didn’t go there when I was small, because it was mainly for nob-ends and kids whose parents wanted them to join the I.R.A. But my son’s friends are all heading down to the Kerry Gaeltacht this week and I was wondering should I send him down with them?
— Dowtcha Donie, Blackpool, I do be worried that he’ll come back speaking all funny.
I do be laughing at the irony. (Look it up.)
I’m not suggesting all sorts of carry on goes on in the Gaeltacht.
But if Irish is the only thing he picks up, you’ll be doing pretty well. And you’re as well off to send him to Kerry.
My friend, Lucy, sent her son to the Donegal Gaeltacht and he came back speaking Irish like a snake. (They’re mad for hissing.)
It’s a mystery to me why the men in Donegal bother with Irish at all. Two words of English from one of them, and I’m getting undressed. (Particularly if it’s Shay Given.)
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