It’s getting boastful on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Spent a Fortune on Ed Sheeran Tickets to Show How Much They Love Their Kids. Alannah_NewChin said she found this amazing secret door on the ticket booking site, it will let you book tickets up on stage.
I said, how do you access it? She said, just post a photo of you in Crookhaven with a McWilliams bag and Bob’s your uncle.
I thought this sounds as dodgy as an Evening of Culture in Carrigaline, but gave it a go, and what do you know, myself and my Hugo are going to be up on stage Friday night with the best of them. Then Fifi_8RescuePuppies came back and said there is another portal for the super-rich, if you post a photo of yourself on the hidden-floor in Hotel Europe, the one that’s off-limits to people with freckles .
I borrowed my sister’s photo, we’re the bulb off each other, and now Ed Sheeran is going to sing a song especially for my Hugo, but I put in a request to have him sing it at me, that’s bound to drive Fifi_8RescuePuppies bananas. What kind of song do you think he’ll sing?
Hello it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. C’mere, I’ve always fancied a fling with an exotic type who doesn’t speak English and didn’t my wish come true this week when I woke up next to a lad from Ennis. (There’s only drink more dangerous than rum and coke – and that’s rum without coke. Jesus, lads, I’m as bawdy as two hen parties from Kiskeam.)
Anyway, this Clare lad was muttering away his gibberish at me over breakfast, I was lucky to get every fourth word. From what I could make out, he kept saying ‘not a bogger’, and I ended up roaring, you are a bogger you gowl, why else would you be going around in a pair of Dingos jeans. But then Berna called in and said, he’s saying ‘not a bother’, which they pronounce ‘nod a bodder’, it’s very confusing altogether.
I said, well fair play, I’m not used to an agreeable man, how about we go on a date this weekend and didn’t he ask me to go to the Cork-Clare match in Thurles on Sunday. I’ll be honest with you Audrey, Ballydesmond people know as much about hurling as Scartaglin types do about washing their hair . What are good things to shout at the ref during a hurling match?
H ow’re oo goin on? Like most people down here in West Cork, I put my garden shed up on Airbnb and there’s no shortage of browls willing to pay me one thousand euro a week to live inside in it. Anyway, didn’t this lad from Zurich arrive last night and take it for two weeks.
I went into him this morning with the welcome pack, which is a loaf of homemade brown bread that we got in Centra and a wildly inaccurate story about Cromwell and the Siege of Drimoleague.
Didn’t he stop me halfway through to say that he read on the dark web about an alien spacecraft that had crashed into the outskirts of Dunmanway, and he had been sent by some Brotherhood he called it to investigate a cover-up by the liberal elites, no less. Jesus help us, but we’ve a conspiracy theorist in the Airbnb.
Do you know how I can get him to leave?
Now listen up Paddy. I have a delicious new mistress that I’d like to keep secret from my long-suffering wife and was thinking of popping over to Eire from the mainland for a spot of romance.
Bunty Von Horseface, our codename for Boris, advised me against going to West Cork because it is full of the right type of English people and you’re bound to bump into loose-lipped horsey sort s who’ll go home and tell everyone.
This is a bit of a problem because my lover is frightfully keen on Graham Norton and insists that I absolutely must bring her to county Cork. Is there perhaps a town there where I could slip under the radar?