Ask Audrey: I told my husband TikTok is a turn on

You can ask her for advice, but don't expect her to be nice — it's Ask Audrey. What's your problem?

Ask Audrey

Hello, it’s Rosealeen in Ballydesmond. 

Bad cess to changing fashions and the way they’d make a gowl out of you in a nightclub in Cork. I haven’t been to a nightclub in ages because instead of getting pawed by a gang of langers drunk farmers from Kanturk, I can connect with them on Tinder and that way they can paw me in the privacy of my own home. (One at a time. I’m not a woman for a gang-bang, leave that to the crowd in Scartaglin.) 

But Berna came running in yesterday and said there is a disco in Cork for over 35s, wouldn’t it be great to give some lad the eye when you’re losing it to Uptown Girl out on the dancefloor. Well, on with the slap and a new catsuit I got in Newmarket and off down to Cork with us, and you should have seen the looks we got from the Douglas Road bitches and them as pale as a Mallow man at a paternity test. 

One of them came up to me in the jacks and said, “Soz babes, but your fake tan is a bit 2015, no one wears it any more.” We went home with our tails between our legs, literally in Berna’s case, she was dressed as Cat Woman for reasons she didn’t make clear. So, come here to me, is the fake tan a thing of the past now or what? (Hopefully not, I bought 500 quids worth off of Amazon.)

— Rosealeen, Ballydesmond

Did no one tell you? Fake tan is like wearing a Walkman to the Housewife of the Year competition. 

It’s that naff.

It’s getting exclusive on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Can’t Believe They’re still Wearing Fake Tan in Ballydesmond. 

We held a charity fund-raiser the other night in a nightclub in town. Can’t remember what it was for, but as my mother always says, charity is a great way to ram your wealth down someone else’s throat with an expensive rig-out. (She’s from Bandon, so it’s a rig-out.) Anyway, didn’t these two ones arrive in from Ballydesmond, we could smell them before we saw them, don’t ask me where they got their fake tan. Or why they were wearing it in 2024 in a room full of Douglas Road Stunners? 

I did the charitable thing and gave one of them the fashion low-down in the toilets, I won’t tell you where she told me to shove my advice, family newspaper and all that. It’s a problem though, isn’t it. 

Cork City is cosmopolitan now, even allowing for the Norries, but it’s a shame there’s nothing to stop yahoos from north Cork barrelling into the place with their Ploughing Championship bantz. 

Is there anything in the constitution that would allow us to put ‘City Only’ on an event?

— Jenni, Douglas Road

My cousin is a barrister without a drinking habit, there’s a first time for everything. 

I rang him there and said what would be your advice to Jenni. He said, it would be long-winded, I charge by the minute.

C’mere what’s the story with being a loan shark? I got lucky last weekend and landed four tickets for Oasis — myself, Budgie and our old dolls. We don’t even like Oasis but the old doll has chronic FOMO, that’s fear of missing out Audrey, and if everyone else is dying to buy something, she has to have it.

So, she takes a screenshot of our tickets (in my name) and puts them on Instagram and people will never look at me the same again. Basically, every Norrie in a five mile radius thinks I’m a billionaire. I’m getting phone calls and WhatsApps from all corners, asking me to fund new dressing rooms for a GAA club, invest in a chipper, buy Bitcoin, my Mam was on asking for a loan. 

I’ve tried to tell people, we’re not even staying the night in Dublin for the gig, we’re going to sleep in Budgie’s car in a lay-by. (With a rule saying no nookie with the old dolls, no exceptions.) But no, they think I must be loaded if I can afford four tickets. So, how can I get the message out there – I’m not loaded, ye langers!?

— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

That’s easy. Tell them you’re moving to Blarney.

My husband. Jesus! He refers to himself as Shabba Mr LoverMan because some eejit of a girlfriend in college told him he was good in the sack. He’s rubbish at it. I’d be better off watching the Oireachtas report. 

I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I told him that scrolling through TikTok is a turn-on for me when we’re having the ride. The problem is, he believes me! 

It’s good that I don’t dread him making a move on me any more (I love the old TikTok), but to be honest, I’m starting to think he’s thick and I’m losing all respect for him. What would you recommend?

— Orla, Glasheen Road

Here’s the plan. Tell him that you’re switching to Facebook during sex. 

If he believes that I’ll put you in touch with a divorce lawyer, because anyone who thinks Facebook is a turn-on needs help. 

(Unless you can get horny watching people in their 60s posting photos from a cruise ship. That’s considered a perversion everywhere, even Kinsale.)