Ask Audrey: 'She said, that sounds like the 7th circle of hell. I said, it’s Ardmore, actually'

Sorting out Cork people for ages
Ask Audrey: 'She said, that sounds like the 7th circle of hell. I said, it’s Ardmore, actually'

Ask Audrey has been sorting Cork people out for ages.

Hello, it’s Rosealeen from Ballydesmond. Amn’t I after joining a walking group down here, socially distanced, inside our 5k, it’s full of middle-aged people making boring small-talk in an effort to disguise the fact that we’re gagging for someone to touch us and not in a way that would get a thumbs up from the parish priest, God bless him. 

Anyway, I found myself walking next to a part-time hippy yesterday, dreadlocks and the smell of the hash pipe off him, but nothing that can’t be sorted with a scrubbing brush in the shower, I’m half weak just thinking about it. 

Anyway, didn’t the cheeky soap dodger invite me over to his place tonight to try out his bong no less. Is that what I think it is?

— Rosealeen, Ballydesmond

My nephew has decided to pursue an alternative lifestyle, because he loves the planet and staying in bed until half ten. I rang him there and said, is there any downside to smoking a bit of weed with a hippy. He said, who are you? #HasAnyoneSeenMyShortTermMemory

Dia duit. Can I just say how glad I am that the dirty liberals who run this country have finally seen the light, God’s light as it were, and set us on the path to redemption by stopping filthy sinners from going on their holidays to Lanzarote and such like. 

You would have to go back to the time of Sodom and Gomorrah to see such flagrant displays of perversion, as I myself witnessed when I took a day trip to the fleshpot of Biarritz, during my last visit to Lourdes. 

Is it any wonder that we can’t rid ourselves of the scourge of the Coronavirus, allowing people to leave Ireland and indulge in filthy sun worship, when they should be back here praying in the rain for the deliverance of their smutty old souls? 

Can we shut our borders forever and make this ban on sunshine holidays permanent?

— Phelim, Midleton, I have a holiday home for rent in Ardmore if anyone is interested.

I WhatsApped my friend Sandra there and said would you like to rent a house off a God botherer. She said, that sounds like the 7th circle of hell. I said, it’s Ardmore actually, so it’s nearly worse. #WestWaterford.

C’mere, what’s a pronoun? It’s full on here trying to home-school my son Carragher and his sister StevieG, in between sending memes about our goalie Alisson to Budgie and the lads. (You might have guessed that I’m a Liverpool fan, which isn’t exactly doing much for my mental health, lah). 

Anyway, the old doll took me aside there the other day and said, ‘Donie you’re a natural boy at the teaching, why don’t you train and become one full time like - myself and the kids will come along for your compulsory Gaeltacht placement, because we both know you’ll try and lob the gob with one of the girls in your class.’ She knows me too well. 

So like, do you think teaching would be a good career move for Dowcha Donie?

— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

I rang my ex, the teacher, to check up on his career choice. He said, it’s very hard at the moment. I said, give me ten minutes and I’ll be over. #Misunderstanding

Hello old stock. People often ask me is there any downside to being a beautifully spoken millionaire and I tell them ‘come back to me after you’ve tried putting on sun-cream in mid-February.’ Anyway, long story short, Hoggy and myself are in Martinique with two very-open minded women from Vienna. 

I won’t tell you how we got out here, but fair play to the pilot for landing Scobie’s Lear Jet on the Marina. Anyway, I was looking at the Examiner there and didn’t I see that all returning holiday-makers will be put in a hotel, no exceptions, not even if you buy a Cabinet Minister a house just outside Glandore, #Disgrace. 

So look Audrey, two things. One, could you book me a suitable room in a five-star hotel. And two, not a word to the wife Marjorie, because I’m plus-one with Sienna from Vienna. 

— Reggie, Blackrock Road.

I rang the Posh Cousin there and said what’s the story with checking into a posh hotel when you’re cheating on your wife. She said, well, you’d want to get used to the sound of ridiculously posh English accents. I said why? She said, because the hotel will be full of people from Kinsale.

Like, what is the story babes? I’m weeping todal tears of vodka at the mo, listening to the news about being stuck on this bog rock for another year, with zero chance of walking barefoot along a beach in Puglia with some God body who’s fourth in line to the throne in Stockholm. 

Two of my besties went todal West Cork last year and said that parts of it were like well Dalkey, ya feelin’ me? So like, we’re thinking, why not just book an entire town in West Cork for July and turn it into south county Dublin, ya. Where would you recommend?

— Abi, Mount Merrion, Dublin.

I rang my Posh Cousin and said I’ve a load of South County Dublin princesses looking to take over a West Cork town for the summer, where would you recommend. She said, Kenmare. I said, that’s in Kerry. She said, they won’t know that. #KeepThemAwayFromCork

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