Ask Audrey: They’re like JFK in Kinsale — they get a headache without sex once a day

There’s just one problem, a new cook in my restaurant we’ll call Mary, I won’t use her real name because I’ve fallen in love with her, and I’m a married woman with two children and a premium locker in Douglas Golf Club. 

I never realised I was a lesbian, but now that I think about it, I always get the ick when my husband has the second pint because that means he’ll want what he hilariously describes as ‘hot lovin’.

It’s about as hot as Donegal in November, I can tell you. I don’t know how Mary feels, but she must have noticed all the hearts I put on her Instagram stories.

My plan is to hold a party to announce that I am relaxing the nookie ban between staff members and then let Mary know she’s the one after I’ve had two glasses of Pinot Grigio. 

Am I mad or what?

– Dolores (not my real name), Bandon (not the actual town.)

This sounds very difficult in fairness. But look on the bright side – at least you’re not living in Bandon.

Hello it’s Rosealeen, here in Ballydesmond. 

Jesus Christ Almighty, but I’ve a head-banger of a hangover and it’s only Tuesday. 

The problem is my friend Berna. She has a sun-trap in her back garden, which is a very dangerous thing to give an Irish person with a borderline addiction to the pink prosecco they have in Lidl. 

It might be 13 degrees and breezy in downtown Ballydesmond, but Berna’s sun-trap only needs five minutes of blue-sky and she’s in Torremolinos and that calls for drinking and flirting with passers by, even if it’s only Jim Tom Pat Joe and his lazy eye. 

I’d be no friend of Berna’s if I left her flying solo with this carry on, so muggins here is pegging it over to her place, with pink prosecco bottles clinking away in my bag for life.

Which brings me back to the head-banger hangover and the genuine worry that I’ll need a new liver by the end of the summer, it wouldn’t take much for the locals to start calling me George Best from Ballydesmond.

It’s Berna’s fault with her fecking south-facing back garden. Do you know, how can I stop a sun-trap being a sun-trap?

– Rosealeen, Ballydesmond

My cousin is an addiction counsellor, she got the calling after drinking two bottles of vodka at my brother’s wedding. I told her your story. She said, there must be something else she can do when the weather is nice. I said, you’ve obviously never been to north Cork.

My wife and I have been married for 32 years and we expect very little of each other in bed, and that’s the way both of us like it, Audrey. 

She is a very considerate person however, and she initiated a very nice annual event, where she gives me a sexual treat on my birthday, something out of the ordinary that I’m not allowed to ask for any other day.

I wouldn’t dream of telling you what it is, but if you were to ring my wife while this was going on, she’d have to let it ring out.

Anyway it was my birthday and she gave me an absolute beauty in fairness to her, we were lying there afterwards and she said, do you know what Desmond, it might be time you considered giving me something other than a scarf for my birthday.

I think I know what she means. And I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

The problem is I wouldn’t be well versed in giving that kind of present if you get my drift, but my brother Leonard is a demon for it, he was in the navy for years.

Do you think my wife would mind if I asked him to give her the gift, so to speak?

– Desmond, The Lee Road.

I have a question for you. 

How come Dáithi O’Sé never gets asked these kind of questions for his agony uncle column in the Examiner?

It’s getting Breton on our WhatsApp group, Douglas Road Stunners Who Keep To Themselves Sailing to Roscoff. 

There are a bunch of us sailing on Brittany Ferries next weekend and it’s lovely, sipping champagne and laughing at the clothes on people from Tipperary. (I never knew they did dresses in the Co-op.) 

The only problem is we have to share a space with these mouth dribblers ALL EVENING. 

Is there any chance they could put on a small exclusive boat for people with Volvo XC 90s?

– Jenni, Douglas Road

I rang the Posh Cousin there and said, would you get the ferry to France? 

She said the odd time, if we’re in the market for a nice case of Burgundy. I said, and what do you wear on the ferry?

She said, a disguise in case somebody sees me, the ferry is for people on the Douglas Road. 

Sacre bleu, that hurts.