Ask Audrey: 'The only mention of Jesus Christ is when someone gets catapulted out the bouncy castle after prosecco'

Sorting out Cork people for ages
Ask Audrey: 'The only mention of Jesus Christ is when someone gets catapulted out the bouncy castle after prosecco'

Ask Audrey has been sorting Cork people out for ages.

It’s getting desperate on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Fly Out of Dublin to Avoid Queueing with Norries. Fifi_FrequentFlyer said she’s actually thinking of risking Cork Airport this summer because she heard that queues are totes long in Dublin and her sister ended up chatting to someone from Laois FOR 4 HOURS. We were in total shock - the only time we’d talk to someone from the midlands is when we ring a call centre and even then it’s impossible to know what they’re saying half the time. 

Jolene_Caribbean said she got talking to this guy from Donegal in her queue and even though the accent was a turn on at the start, he had aged considerably by the time they got to security and started reminding her of Daniel O’Donnell. Phoebe_VolvoXC90 got stuck with this guy from Stillorgan acting like Elon Musk because his semi-d was valued at over a million, which would barely pay for a night out in Dublin. I’m torn now because I’m planning a fortnight in Sardinia with the kids and I’d hate to think of them swapping Minecraft tips for three hours in Dublin airport with a family of freckly tykes from Tyrone. I’m actually starting to think we’d be better off in Cork airport, Norries and all. What do you reckon?

—Jenni, Douglas Road

I rang the Posh Cousin there and said, what’s the best way to avoid Norries in Cork airport? She said, I usually lock myself in the jacks until the flight is about to close. #TakeNoChances

Guten Tag. I am dating this very hot woman in work, she is from Innishannon, which seems to have given her what you call the notions, even though the place is basically a traffic jam with a nice river. Anyway, she took me shopping this afternoon in Cork city for ‘something respectable’, she called it. Apparently, my ‘avant-garde content creator meets edgy poet’ look does not do it for her. I said, what could possibly require me to wear a jacket and open-necked shirt, as if I was some trainee accountant who was brought clothes shopping by his mother. She said, I am bringing you to my nephew’s first holy communion ceremony, try on this pair of chinos. I said, but no one in your family goes to mass, the only thing you believe is that you are better than people from Bandon. She told me first Holy Communion has nothing to do with religion – it’s just an opportunity to get pissed in front of your mother, something you could normally only do at a wedding, what would you think of a cravat? The communion is this weekend – what can I expect? 

— Jurgen, Berlin and Ballincollig

My cousin is an events manager, she does a lot of Communion shin-digs. I said, what do you expect at a Communion bash? She said, that the only mention of Jesus Christ is when someone gets catapulted out of the bouncy castle after eight glasses of prosecco.

Hello it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. My posh bitch of a sister is down from Dublin for the week, her accent is after getting as English as putting a question at the end of a sentence, innit? We decided we’d go into Cork city last night for a lash of cocktails, it was like old times really, me trying on my outfits and her making a face and telling me that it was like something you’d see at a fashion show in outer Kiskeam. Two hours later and we’re flinging Pornstar Martini’s down our neck like it was closing time in the Hiland. Next thing, didn’t I burst out of the front of my dress and flash a stag party from Newcastle, they wrote a song about me because of it. I told the sister I’m mortified and she said, you have to own it and I said, I do own it you gobshite, and I’m bringing it back to the shop tomorrow. Well didn’t she get very Dublin on me then and started explaining what ‘owning it’ means in the modern parlance and me trying to lob the gob at one of the Newcastle lads. It made me realise though – I’m a bit out of touch with the way the young crowd talk these days. Where could I get a refresher course?

— Rosealeen, Ballydesmond

My woke neighbour has a podcast called, Learnings is a Word Now. I said, what’s the best way to talk the modern lingo. She said, pronounce the letter ‘t’ as a ‘d’. I said, where did you hear that? She said, Twidder. I said, really? She said, todally.

C’mere, The old doll lost the complete rag last night when I suggested we get a Liverpool jersey for our dog, Kloppy. She said, I suggested that last week and now you’re claiming it as your idea - that’s ‘hepeating’ now, my sister Janet told me about it, the latest way the patriarchy keeps women down. Like, all I did was suggest we get the dog a jersey – am I wrong now no matter what I do?

— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

HePeating is everywhere Donie – it’s where a man repeats a woman’s idea and claims it as his own. I’m a huge fan of ShePeating – that’s where you remind a man that something was his idea and it’s his fault that it’s gone all wrong. My Conor is haunted by it.

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