Ask Audrey: We go to her Mam’s place on Christmas day because I clearly did something horrific in a past life

Sorting out Cork people for ages
Ask Audrey: We go to her Mam’s place on Christmas day because I clearly did something horrific in a past life

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We’re a bit low this week on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Know It’s Going to be a Voucher For Monart Again. Laura_WhiteRangeRover said it’s 10 years in a row of Monart vouchers from her Ken and while it’s a great place and all that, there’s just something scummy about a Cork person going to county Wexford on their holidays. 

Fifi_IHaveMySuspicions said she knows for a fact that HER Ken waits for her white Range Rover to pass the east-bound traffic cam on the tunnel, Monart bound, and then he heads straight over to Emer Cronin-Buckley’s house for a non-stop rompathon. That got me thinking. Do you think MY Ken would like a one-night scoring pass, and I might ask him for the same in return to inject a bit of excitement back into the bedroom for Christmas?

- Jenni, Douglas Road

Did you not hear? The Scoring Pass is already a huge Christmas present for couples in Cork — except in Kinsale, where they have it already written into their marriage contracts. #ClarityFromDayOne

Hello, it’s Rosealeen here from Ballydesmond. I woke up Saturday morning in my boyfriend’s house in Bishopstown wearing the Nemo Rangers kit that he bought me, he’s a complete divil of a pervert and I wouldn’t have him any other way. Anyway, didn’t he say to me, would you like to go into town and take a look at the English Market and I said, I thought we got rid of them English 100 years ago and weren’t two of my granduncles at Kilmichael. 

He said, no, it’s not an English market, although a lot of the people in there speak with English accents now that you mention it, particularly the ones flogging expensive cheese. I said, I come all the way up to Cork and you want to bring me in to look at some cheese. Do ye have any culture at all above in Cork, tell me?

- Rosealeen, Ballydesmond.

I put our question to cousin the culture vulture, his aftershave is actually called Pretension. He said, well what do you think is the annual cultural highlight in Cork? I said, surely it’s not the panto. He said, oh yes it is!

Hello old stock. It’s no joke being a well-known multi-millionaire coming up the Christmas. I don’t mind giving a gift to my employees as long as it fools them into thinking I care about them and can remember their names. Like so many other employers, I want to keep my staff happy, at least until 2025, when I plan to replace them with a team of robots. 

But no matter what I give the sheeple inside in the office, I can almost hear them saying “You’d think he’d do better than a selection box, have you seen the new infinity pool he put in his €4.5 million mansion on the Blackrock Road?” (Shag you anyway, Google Maps.) So listen, Audrey, we’re having a Zoom thing tonight, what should I send around the homes to keep the knuckle-draggers who work for me in line?

- Reggie, Blackrock Road.

The Posh Cousin has written a book about this, it’s called 'What Poor People Like'. I rang her there and said what’s the worst thing you ever got from your boss at Christmas time? She said, you can’t repeat it in a family newspaper, but let’s just say #Itchy and leave it at that.

C’mere what’s the story with breaking up with my old doll until the New Year. We go to her Mam’s place on Christmas day because I clearly did something horrific in a past life and must be punished once a year for all of eternity. (They have three types of stuffing, and if you don’t try all three, they write a bawdy poem about you.) 

Anyway, to make matters worse this year my old doll is insisting that we isolate ourselves until Christmas Day in case we turn up at her Mams and infect them with the Covid. I’m going balloobas here at home looking at her, getting WhatsApps from Budgie and the lads who are clearly not observing social distancing with a gang of beaurs in from Blarney. So like, would it be a sly-draw now to say, I think we should go on a break?

- Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

I’d finally had enough of My Conor’s stinginess, so told him I wanted a break last Christmas. He booked us a weekend in Waterford. I said, what made you think that’s a good idea? He said, the prices in Kerry. #Scrooge.

Story wha'? I moved down from Dublin there a few years back for the love of a Cork woman. We brought her son to Santa there at the weekend, totally unbelievable it was, the accent on him. (Santa now, not the son.) 

He sounded like Roy Keane crossed with one of yizzers Young Offenders so he did  — his Ho Ho Ho was more Hoaaaah Hoaaaah Hoaaaaah, and he sang it like a song. Anyway, the young lad never flinched, he saw nothing wrong with Santa having such an accent. What’s wrong with yiz down here in Cork at all, wha?

- Tony, Dublin and Passage West

You haven’t a clue —  Cork people don’t think we have an accent. If Santa didn’t talk like that, the poor boy would wondered why he was putting on a wonky accent, like ye have in Dublin. (No offence.)

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