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Guten Tag. I am in Cork for a few weeks and I see that some guy called Ronan O’Gara has been awarded the freedom of the city. What does this mean? — Jurgen, Frankfurt, I am related to Bernhard Langer.
Are you closely related to Bernhard, or are you just a bit of a Langer? The city fathers have awarded The Freedom of Cork to many notable people down through the years. (They even gave it to a couple of women, in case we stopped bringing them cups of tea.)
The most famous recipient of the title is John F Kennedy, although he wouldn’t be considered on the same level as O’Gara, because he didn’t go to Pres.
I checked with the City Council what privileges you get from the title. They said the main one is the freedom to enter any bar in the city and have every single person there say “Look at him, now la, he tinks he’s it.”
I’m worried that my husband is after losing interest in me. When we first got married, it was like we were in that movie his brother brought back from France, featuring a naughty maid who was inclined to cut corners. But, sorry to say, he hasn’t laid a hand on me for over a year. What should I do? — Nora, Millstreet, he’s 97 and I’m 102, they still call me Cradle Snatcher.
It’s hard to get rid of a nickname alright. My former best friend still calls me Husband Robbing Bitch, (through her solicitor.) I was very distressed reading your problem. It’s clear from what you say that a 96-year-old man made a move on his 101-year-old wife in north Cork. That’s less than an hour away! Bit of vom in the mouth just thinking about it. I know there isn’t much on television these days, but there’s still no excuse for that kind of filth. Sorry, I just can’t bring myself to offer sex advice to people over 90. I’d be worried one of you might have a stroke. And not in a good way.
How’re oo goin on? I’m still not right after the Late Late Show Valentine’s special last Friday night. I pay my licence fee to RTÉ and pray to God I can overcome my dirty thoughts watching Mary Kennedy on Nationwide a few times a week. When I turn on the Late Late, I want to see a jockey who has just announced his retirement or maybe a young one who needs money to go to America for an operation. I do not expect to see Dublin lads looking for something called the ride. What can be done about this? — Jer Jack Mike Mick, I often lose the run of myself watching Jean Byrne doing the weather.
So do I. She’s always bringing rain to Cork. I watched that Valentine’s Late Late with my posh cousin. She said it was as common as a taxi rank on MacCurtain Street. I thought that was a bit harsh myself.
Ciao, I have taken on a fifth girlfriend here in Cork because there is nothing on television. She is from Newtownshandrum and big into hurling. For a date tomorrow night, we are going to Park eee Ring to watch Cork play Dublin in the league. What do I need to know about this hurling? — Jean Luca, Milan and Turners Cross, I take three and a half hours to get ready.
For what? Seriously all you have to do when meeting someone from Newtownshandrum is make sure you get most of the manure out of your eyebrows. (They’re easily pleased.) You’ll need to bring two things with you to the match. A scarf saying “We used to be Daycent” and earplugs so you can muffle out the abuse aimed at the referee. You’d be surprised at the kind of abuse we hurl at whistle-blowers in this country. (Just ask Maurice McCabe.)
I’m very worried about my 15-year-old son. In spite of everything we tried to teach him growing up, he seems to have developed some kind of conscience. I’m terrified that if we leave him the house he’ll hand it over to some bunch of do-gooders with a soft spot for Norries. Is it possible to write him out of the will? — Monica, Douglas Road, my new bum is a work of art.
And your old one wouldn’t have fitted through the door in the Crawford. I’m no lawyer, but I have extensive courtroom experience, having being sued a record 193 times for things I said about the people of Kilorglin. (I’ll leave out any mention of the smell in the courtroom.) Don’t mind the will. You have access to someone in Posh Cork with a moral compass. (That’s as rare as someone still on their first marriage in Kinsale.) I’d be charging people a tenner to come and look at him.
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