Ask Audrey: The buns on the huns down in Kanturk are peachy

Sorting Out Cork People for Ages

Ask Audrey has been sorting Cork people out for ages.

It’s getting suspicious on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Don’t Believe All the Hype About Dungarvan. Fif_IncrediblyWhiteTeeth started it off yesterday when she posted, "Hey, so I can’t stand the sight of my kids or my Ken, all I want is a weekend away with my bee-atches, is that too much to ask?" Lorna_GorgeousKids said; "I’m in babes, so is it Lisbon or Venice, there’s no way I’m going to Marbs again — it’s crawling with mediocs from Ballincollig." (Mediocs is what we call mediocrities, hilaire.)? Fifi was straight back with "#AirportNightmare babes, I’m hearing great things about Dungarvan." That was a very brave thing to say because I’m not sure if you know this Audrey, but Dungarvan is in Waterford, which is the Irish for disappointment. But Fifi doubled down and said; "it’s incredibly chi-chi down there as long as you don’t make eye contact with the locals." Lorna said she heard that as well, and a lot of the lower orders from Cork don’t bother with it because they suffer from anxiety attacks if they go east of Youghal. So four of us are going down this weekend in a 75 grand BMW to totes grab eyeballs when we drive into town. I’m not sure though — are we mad, expecting a sophisticated weekend in Dungarvan? 

— Jenni, Douglas Road

My cousin has a holiday home in Ardmore, we call her Couldn’t Afford Barleycove. I rang her there and said, can you sum up Dungarvan in three words? She said, "Kinsale without swingers".

Hello, it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. Myself and Berna were watching Love Island during the week when she asked why none of the men we meet online have bodies like your man Liam from Wales. I said, 'take a look a closer look at your own abs, Berna before you start casting aspersions at the stock of single men in north Cork. Well, didn’t she whip off her old top and show me a six-pack that would have you in the final for Miss Ballydesmond Body-Builder, below in the hall. (I said I’d get the old plug in for in there, it’s on Sunday week, 7:30 pm, no photography or whistling at the contestants.) Anyway, I asked Berna how come she’s buff all of a sudden and didn’t the snake reveal that she has a personal trainer inside in Kanturk who’s been helping her get into shape. I went into him myself this morning, Klaus is his name, he’s from Austria or Sweden or somewhere, and didn’t he ask if he could introduce me to his brother Johann, because, wait for it, he likes 'rural ladies carrying a few pounds'. Well, I reared up at him until he showed me a photo of Johann and doesn’t he put Liam from Wales in the quare place. So, do you think I should swallow my pride and hook up with this beefcake? 

— Rosealeen, Ballydesmond

I actually went on a date with him after we connected on an app called Euro Guys With Fetishes. I turned up with a set of handcuffs. He turned up with a 32 pack of Tunnock’s Tea Cakes. No thanks, Johann.

C’mere, what’s the story with the thigh gap? I went clothes shopping with the old doll in town last weekend — it’s easier to bring her with me than listening to “Where are going in them, Donie — you look like a gomie from Mallow?” I says to her, 'I’m going to buy a decent pair of Sliders, look the business.' She said, too right Donie boy, wear them with a pair of knee-high white socks, all the male models are wearing them in Milan and I says, ya but I live in Blackpool girl, the slagging would-a be brutal. Then I tries on a pair of shorts, slate-grey cargo ones, I was weak for myself in them and she goes, no way Donie, you don’t have the thigh gap to pull it off. I says, what’s that and she said, thigh gap is a gap between your thighs Donie, you either have it or you don’t. I’m devastated Audrey, they were one gorgeous pair of shorts. So like, is the old doll right, or is it possible to give yourself thigh gap? 

— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

My friend Ciara knows everything. I said, how can I get a thigh gap? She said, is it rude to tell people to just open their legs? I said, it is really.

Now listen up Paddy. I’ve just come from a meeting of the British Establishment where we dressed up as the Queen and said, “when I die, it’s Charles'll be in charge and you’ll all be in trouble.” Speaking of trouble, is there any chance one of you Micks could come over and assassinate Boris Johnson. Honestly, we can’t figure out another way to get rid of him. You don’t actually have to kill the blighter, just pretend and then we’ll whisk ‘the body’ off to a more suitable role in British life for Boris, like a mascot at a fun park, or perhaps a scarecrow. So, could you do it soon?

— Lord Edmund d’Servant-Spanker, London

My friend Pronsias is a mad Irish Republican, we call him Frank, drives him mad. I said, how much to shoot Boris? He said, no charge. I said, how would do it? He said, we’ll post a gun over to Boris and he’ll probably shoot himself in the foot.