Hello, it’s Rosealeen here, in Ballydesmond.
Pardon my French but wouldn’t you just love to give Vladimir Putin a kick up his hole. I was watching the news at home the other night, and didn’t I shout out, enough is enough Rosealeen from Ballydesmond, I can’t just sit here and do nothing while innocent people are being attacked. Straight onto the phone to Berna I went.
“What do you have in mind,” says she, “maybe you could change your profile photo on Facebook to the Ukrainian flag, I see a lot of people doing that?” Yerra, that’s only tooling around says I, people do that and then 20 seconds later they’re scrolling through an article called 10 Reasons We Still love Peter Andre.
Do you know what, I said to her, the only thing I can do is to show some love and bury the hatchet with the Kerry crowd over in Scartaglin? Off out to the car I went and who was standing in my drive only Maureen from Scartaglin and her saying, it’s time to put the past behind us Rosealeen from Ballydesmond, like something out of Hollywood.
Well didn’t we hug and cry and make jokes about the Limerick gowls in Kilmallock, and there is talk now of twinning our two towns together in the spirit of love. Do you think I did the right thing?
It’s getting anxious on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Can’t Believe you Sent your Little Hugo to School with a Slight Cough.
I was dropping my little Hugo yesterday morning, and I had him warned, no coughing or sniffling on the way into school or the other parents will shame me into bringing you home and I’ve an Extreme Tantric Massage booked in town for 9:30.
All was going well until we met Emer Cronin-Buckley on the way out and didn’t my little Hugo start barking at her like a baby seal. “God, Jenni” she said “I know we’re all engrossed with events in Ukraine but Covid never went away and now that our little Hugos have stopped wearing masks, it’s more important than ever that YOUR child isn’t the one bringing the virus into school and destroying skiing holiday plans up and down the Douglas Road.”
A crowd had gathered at that stage and started chanting, Take Him Home, Take Him Home, and I ended up bringing Hugo with me to my massage in town, allerge like. At the dinner table last night - wild mushroom risotto with truffles on a bed of spinach – didn’t Hugo blurt out, “Mom is in love with Gary in the massage place” and now my Ken is watching me like a hawk. How can I persuade him there’s nothing to worry about?
C’mere, what’s the story with licking the telly when Cillian Murphy is on screen. I’m delighted that Peaky Blinders is back on the TV again, even if it does mean a procession of culchie gomies around town with their flat-caps and waistcoats, would they ever keep that clobber for when they go back home to Clonmel.
Anyway, we were watching the first episode of the new series there during the week and Cillian Murphy was on with his cheekbones and his light blue eyes and my old doll starts telling me what she wouldn’t do to him, and I says, of course you won’t do it to him, he’s a Hollywood superstar and you work in a Circle K.
She says you’re just jealous of him and I says, how could I be jealous of Cillian Murphy, he’s from the southside?! Anyway, I’m sick of being humiliated in me own house. How can you stop an old doll from ogling another man in your presence?
Hey, so just because my old man does a lot of business in Russia doesn’t mean I can’t organise a really cool march of creative types in Cork this weekend to protest against the situation in Ukraine. (No Sinn Fein or other Lefties, ok, this is no time for politics.)
I invited this sick Croatian babe from my drumming circle but she was like, Ed, why don’t you just anonymously donate some money to help refugees and stop trying to make this about you and I was like, hurt, ya feelin’ me?
How can I show that this has nothing to do with me?