Ask Audrey: The beard trend has finally made it to the North Cork/Kerry border

Sorting out Cork people for ages

Ask Audrey has been sorting Cork people out for ages.

C’mere, what’s the story with tidying up your gaff? That one, Marie Kondo, ruined my life a few years back when she started telling us that our houses are filthy and we need to tidy them up. The old doll really took it to heart and it was World War 3 if I left my jocks on the floor for more than a day. 

But I read in the Examiner there that Marie has now decided that tidying is for gomies and she has more or less stopped trying to keep her place clean. Do you think this is the green light for chilling out on the old housework?
— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

I’m glad it’s just not my house. My Conor goes bananas when I tell him to pick up the jocks by the side of the bed. Particularly when they’re not his. He’s no sense of humour about that kind of stuff. #TotalDryBalls.

Hello it’s Rosealeen, here in Ballydesmond. I’ve the skin worn off my face from lobbing the gob on fellas with beards. It was about six months ago when I first noticed that every man in the north Cork is walking around with a beard. What’s this now? says I to Berna. When I was growing up a beard meant you were in the Wolfe Tones. 

Well didn’t we do a bit of digging on the old internet and it turns out all the men in New York started growing beards in 2007 and the trend has finally made it to the north Cork and Kerry border. To be honest they went beardy on the Kerry side a while back but the Cork lads didn’t want to look like Paul Galvin. Anyway, I signed up to this dating app called Smooth Shifting to give face a little breakeen. 

I thought it was for clean-shaven lads, but it’s actually for gowls who have taken an on-line course in smooth chat-up lines. The poor craters should ask for their money back they’re that bad at it. So I’m back on the beardy boys again and I was wondering is there a cream or something I can use to keep down the inflammation on my poor old chin?

- Rosealeen, Ballydesmond

The red face is a nightmare. Marco in the pizzeria went the full Pavarotti with his beard, and when I arrived home once after a night of red-hot Latin loving, My Conor looked at me sadly and said we need to talk. I said, go on, brazenly enough. He said, I think we both know you’re addicted to eating strawberries. The gowl.

It’s getting covert on our WhatsApp group Douglas Road Stunners Who Dress up for Delivery People. Fifi_Born2Rule said she refreshed her gym gear with a 600 euro splurge on the Lululemon website because they changed her delivery person and she wants to make an impression. 

Chloe_AmazingSkinTone said send us on a photo of him Feefs, bit of a delivery guy fantasy vibe going on in my filthy mind right now. Fifi said snap out of it bee-atch, my new delivery person is a woman and we all sent back ‘OMG You’ve Come Out on WhatsApp – You Go Girl’ emojis. Well didn’t Fifi respond with a GIF of a monkey burying it’s head in its hands, in a ‘ye’re missing the point bee-atches’ kind of way. 

Her take is that the delivery woman has an eye for expensive gym gear and if she answers the door in anything less than 90 euro sweat-pants, the word will travel down the Douglas road that Fifi-Born2Rule has started shopping in Penneys. 

There was radio silence on the old WhatsApp for a few minutes as we contemplated the #StatusDevastation that would follow on from that. I have to admit Audrey that I sometime answer the door in slippers that I got in Dunnes — do you think I need to follow Fifi’s lead and spend big?

— Jenni, Douglas Road

We’d never do anything that vulgar in Ballinlough. Imagine. No, we just leave the labels on our gym gear with the price high-lighted in yellow, in case someone thinks we bought it in a sale.

So like when I’m not dreaming up the next unicorn business idea that’s going to blow your minds or steal all your data or both, you’ll find me down in Marina Market, hanging with creatives and fielding questions on where I got a beenie with my name on it. Branding baby. Branding. 

So like this cool Slovenian chick from extreme Samba practise asked me what my favourite sport is and I was thinking like, I can’t say rugby because that’s knuckle-heads who don’t like cyber-punk Japanese movies. And GAA and soccer aren’t sports you can admit to in the rarefied air I breathe at the chill end of posh Cork. 

That’s when I decided to invent a sport of my own, hopefully one that will blow your mind or steal all your dates or both. So, I’m like thinking it will be a cross between squash and water-polo, with a splash of dressage. The only think that’s standing between me and the history books now is a catchy title for this game. What would you recommend?

— Ed, Ballintemple.

Ed, there’s only one name for any sport that came out of your head. And that’s Langball.