Ask Audrey: I live in Macroom, I’ve shifted guys who look like Kermit the Frog
![Ask Audrey: I live in Macroom, I’ve shifted guys who look like Kermit the Frog Ask Audrey: I live in Macroom, I’ve shifted guys who look like Kermit the Frog](/cms_media/module_img/7678/3839467_2_articlesmall_askaudreyonline_2_.jpg)
Ask Audrey: sorting out Cork people for aaaaaaages
It’s getting jumpy on our WhatsApp group: Douglas Road Stunners Who Don’t Drink the Same Coffee as People in Kilmallock.
This all goes back to a Good Taste retreat we went on last week in Mallorca (not Majorca), it was 8-grand-jumpsuits-up-the-yazoo at Departures up in Cork Airport — at least three bogmen had to be treated for whiplash.
Facials, yoga, meditation, sisterhood ceremonies, we skipped all that and tore into the Cava for three days.
Strange things happen when you leave your Ken at home looking after the kids, with hidden cameras around the house in case he gets a bit handy with the au pair. The Cava loosened the old lips and we got to talking about the thing that really matters to us: coffee. We’re never seen without one in public... punishment for that is one hour in a soft-play area on the northside.
But the problem is what are we going to drink?
Flat whites were it five years ago, but now you get people drinking them in Kilmallock. We need a hot new on-trend coffee — what’s the point in dragging a cup around with you if it doesn’t make other people feel inadequate? So is there a new coffee trend out there that we’re missing?
Myself and the old doll sat down to watch the new show about Robbie Williams on Netflix last night. It was mainly him moaning on a bed in his jocks. Not in a sexy way now, lah — he was just complaining about the price of wealth.
You’d nearly feel sorry for him, with all the money he has and old dolls only bursting to do the business with him.
Anyway, I could sense my old doll looking at me during the show, which is unusual, we don’t really look at each other anymore, and she suddenly says: "Dowcha Donie, you do be the bulb off of Robbie Williams, you should start doing appearances in nightclubs, there’s great money in that, my sister Philomena is minted because she do look a small bit like Bjork."
I rang my main man, Budgie, this morning, he’s set me up with a gig in Macroom this weekend. I won’t kid ya, I’d be nervous enough appearing in front of a pack of pissed-up bog savages. I was thinking of just going out and saying: "Hello, I’m Robbie Williams, will all the old dolls queue up there and I’ll lob ye the gob."
Do you think that’s a good idea?
Dia duit. Come here now, I’m the last person to stop people having a bit of craic — sure I’m the one who kept climbing up to try and chat with the goat at Puck Fair.
But is it too much to ask the Brits to put the fada in my name, which is Siobhán? I’ve just moved to London, great job in the City, my mother is beside herself. Most of the people are assholes, but you expect that working in finance. What I didn’t expect was a denial of my human right to have my name spelled properly. I’ve gone to HR here and their position is that it’s hard enough to pronounce my name as things stand without wondering why there’s a weird line over the a.
Soz now lads, 800 years of oppression and all that, I said in an email, and they wrote back ‘800 years?’ and I remembered that they did Empire Loving rather than history in school over here.
It’s a disgrace that a proud Irish woman should have to face this kind of discrimination in 2023. Do you think I should get the Irish embassy involved?
Hello, it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. I'm seeing a total cod-artist above in Dublin — we met on a dating app aimed at people who want a long-distance relationship, it’s called Put Your Sweet Lips a Little Closer 2 The Phone.
Anyway, didn’t a package arrive in the post yesterday from himself... a virtual reality headset complete with a set of instructions. I strapped the thing on and followed his instructions and next thing I know, he appears in my virtual world and suggests something I won’t repeat in a family newspaper.
"What could possibly go wrong?" says I and we started doing the business, but virtually now if you get my drift. Next thing I know I’m being shaken by the shoulders: it’s Berna — she called in with an apple tart. She’s like a human sieve and didn’t she tell the whole town that I’m having it off with a Dublin lad over the internet?
The only solution here is to move to Dublin. Do you think I’m mad?