Ask Audrey: 'I'm flying to Seville for a dirty weekend with a very energetic vet from Kanturk'

We’re two different countries, mate. I'm going to be honest with ya, I fancy this one at work and she’s invited me over to her house to watch the All Blacks beat Ireland this weekend. 

It will be a cracking night and I fully expect her to ask me to stay the night. 

But at the party, I’m going to have to put up with her Irish friends acting as if I’m from Australia. 

In fairness, you lot usually start out respectful of the difference, but you get a few drinks on ya, and suddenly you’re calling me a flaming gallah, like Alf Stewart in Home and Away. 

I know the accents sound similar to the untrained ear, but how would you like if I said you were English? 

Not much judging by the last time I tried it at a party and they put the Wolfe Tones on for a solid hour, which must surely qualify as a cruel and unusual punishment. 

Anyway, is there any way to educate you Paddies about the difference between Australia and New Zealand?

— Ian, Douglas and f**king New Zealand!

Hi Ian, looking forward to seeing you in my place on Saturday night! I wouldn’t plan on staying the night mate – soz, but I thought you were Australian. No dice for a Kiwi!

Hello, it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. 

This might be my last letter to you because I see that Daithí O’Sé is solving problems for people now in the Examiner, and we all love him up here in Duhallow, even though he is from Kerry. 

I think it’s because he’s from West Kerry and they’re much nicer than the crowd just across the border in Scartaglin. 

Anyway, this is one for the city slicker like yourself. 

I was inside in Cork this morning, I wanted to get a few bits from Ann Summers because I’m flying to Seville for a dirty weekend with a very energetic vet from Kanturk. 

I parked across the river by Douglas Street, and like everyone else, I used the bit of lipstick on an old Parking Disc so I could use it again. 

W ell, when I came back to the car, wasn’t there a fella who A : gave me a parking ticket and B: took one look at the Ann Summers bag and said 'don’t forget to buy batteries'? 

Have you ever heard anything so sleazy in your life? Probably, you get a lot of letters from Kinsale. 

Can I appeal the parking ticket because of this?

— Rosealeen, Ballydesmond.

I rang City Hall Parking Department there and said, what’s your policy about people with vibrators? She said 'we’re allowed to use them during lunchtime'.

Hello, old stock. Myself and Bunty Harrington are heading back over to Paris Saturday morning, to shout on the guys and make inappropriate comments to French women on public transport. 

You’d be amazed what you’d get away with as long as you’re wearing an Irish shirt. 

We’re flying in and out for all the matches. Not because of work (we’re both entrepreneurs), but there is no way I want to hang around France and have myself associated with the Johnny Come Lately Irish rugby fans. 

Awful people Audrey, retired teachers from Clonmel who think they’re the business because they’re following the Irish rugby team around in a camper van. It’s the stuff of nightmares. 

Myself and Bunty can’t even enjoy a Creme de Menthe in peace without one of these tools trying to strike up a conversation about the budget, as if that makes the slightest bit of difference to our lives. 

The organisers have been terrific at this tournament, with the Fan Zones they’ve set up before the match. 

I think you should get on to them there and suggest that there should be a roped-off area for beautifully spoken millionaires from Cork, so we don’t have to listen to the knuckle-draggers who think it’s refined to buy wine in a box. Can you do that for me, please?

— Reggie, Blackrock Road.

I rang the French authorities there and said, do ye have an expensive area for snooty people with notions? The guy said, oui, oui, we call it Paris.

C’mere, what’s the story with trending dances on TikTok? 

My old doll had me driven demented last month, recording her doing a dance on the 203 bus so she could tap into the Tube dance craze that was going on. 

Now she is trying to go viral by eating a snack box on a paddle board, we’re down in Fountainstown all week in the fog, trying to get 30 seconds of content. 

I took a week off work without pay, and the old doll is refusing to sign a contract that gives me 50% of any collaboration deal she might do with Nike or IKEA, I’d be minted. 

That’s taking advantage of my better nature now, that is, and darkly enough she has threatened to withdraw from any bedroom activity unless I agree to be her cameraman for free, in perpetuity, which is for all time. 

Do you know any solicitors?

— Dowcha Donie, Blackpool

I know loads of solicitors. So I’ll give you bit of advice – don’t hire a solicitor.