Ask Audrey: You Irish are very nice - but I have to point out that you are overly fond of the C-word

Indeed and do says I, anything to get you and your pouchy beer belly away from my front door, give me the book of ten and walk out sideways because I’d never get over the sight of your drooping arse. 

Well didn’t I win the fecking thing, which is why I’m just back from a week on a nudist beach on the Costa Brava, all the bits out sure what could possibly go wrong? 

Well, the Scartaglin Nudist Society could plonk their fat nude arses down next to me on the beach, with their “Is that Rosealeen from Ballydesmond, she must spend a fortune on Spanx?” 

I made the usual small talk with them, asking if it’s hard to figure out the bride or groom side of the church when you are marrying your cousin. 

I thought they didn’t mind, but wasn’t there a large billboard outside my hometown on my return, a photo of me in the nip alongside the message, “Pervy, Rosealeen from Ballydesmond. Pervy.” 

Well, I can’t let that go. What’s a good way to get revenge on a pack of nudists from a pathetic village in north Kerry?

— Rosealeen from Ballydesmond

My neighbour is the secretary of the Ballinlough Nudist Association. I rang her there and said do you have anything on at the moment. She said, no I’m a nudist. I said, I mean are you busy, I want to ask you a question.

C’mere, what the story with wearing your name on your t-shirt. 

Myself and the old doll are glued to At Home with The Furys on Netflix, it’s about Tyson Fury, he’s the most famous boxer in the world but you probably haven’t heard of him because you live on the southside. 

Tyson do be driven mad now that he’s retired and at home with his six kids, so he do take the dog for a walk a lot, wearing a t-shirt with his name written on it in big letters. (His name, not the dogs.) 

That got me thinking, so I ordered up five t-shirts there with my name on it, Dowcha Donie, and I road-tested one of them yesterday when I took my own dog out for a walk up in Glen River Park. 

I’ll be honest with ya Audrey, the reaction was mixed. The most common reaction was, “Are you worried that people will steal your clothes Dowcha Donie, putting your name on them now lah”, which was alright. 

But a very old woman called me a langer. It was all she could do to stand up and she called ME a langer. 

I’m starting to question my whole life after this. Is wearing a t-shirt with your name on it a sign that you are a complete gomie?

— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

My niece is a teacher so she has lots of time during the summer to think about these things. I said, what do you think of people who wear their names on their clothes? She said, I’m too sad to answer Audrey, we’re back to work in two weeks. #Tragedy

Guten Tag. I have started dating this girl from my work at Cork Airport Business Park, my colleagues think we are perverts because we met online.

She is from Kanturk, which makes people from the city giggle, even though it seems like a very nice town to me, surrounded by rolling hills and smiling faces. 

We went to visit her parents last weekend and they were incredibly nice, the mother even told the father to shut up when he tried to ask me a question about Hitler. 

The problem is that this mother is obsessed with religion – she keeps telling her daughter to find out if I am a Protestant or Catholic. 

I am refusing to play ball as you Irish would say, acting Catholic one minute, and Protestant the next. Is this a good idea?

— Jurgen, Berlin and Ballincollig

Great idea. I’m Protestant myself but I always pretend to be Catholic during sex because the guilt just takes the arousal level up to 11.

Hello. Myself and my wife arrived over from Oxford on Monday and we are currently touring around West Cork. 

You Irish are very nice but I feel I have to point out that you are overly fond of the C-word.

We were trying to enjoy ‘the craic’ at a pub in Castletownbere last night but it was impossible thanks to a group of local men up at the bar who insisted on addressing each other with the aforementioned c-word. 

My wife couldn’t finish her bowl of mussels. Should we complain?

— Graham, Oxford

Please do. People in West Cork love to watch mind-mannered English men telling half-cut locals to cut back on the cursing. Let the bar know as well, they’ll want to sell tickets. And remember, when they refer to each other with the c-word, that’s affectionate. When they call you the c-word, it isn’t.