Ask Audrey: 'I can’t be the only 43-year-old spinster looking for meaningless nooky'
If A Where Tell Good Do Ask App Could With There You Know Hook Me? I A Audrey: Lad, Is Up
I never bothered having kids after seeing the way they ruined my sister’s life. Unfortunately I’ve allowed this Christmas tradition to develop where she drops her three sprogs over to me the Saturday before Christmas and gets mildly langers with her friends in Cask before picking them up in a taxi to go back to her hellish house. (She asked if I’d keep them overnight, talk about taking the piss.)
Part of the tradition is that I give them their Christmas presents when they’re here, because myself and my partner are Lanzarote people on Christmas Day, and who could blame us? I asked my sister what will I get her eldest fella and she lost the rag completely, saying the least I could do was pick a present for my own nephew. (She called me a ‘useless bollocks’, my mother didn’t bring us up to talk like that.)
I know her son is a soccer fan, but I’m afraid to ask her who he supports in case I get another eating. I don’t want to get him the wrong club because I’m in enough trouble with her as it is. I remember Manchester United were good there a while back – will I just get one of their jersies? And what size would you recommend?
Guten Tag. This will be my third Christmas in Ireland and I never stop laughing at the way you flock to the German-style Christmas markets. They are one of the reasons I decided to leave Ludwigshafen. Bric-a-brac is bric-a-brac, even when you’re buying it from a wooden shed with fake snow. And honestly, life is too short for pretzels.
At least if you eat a pretzel in Germany you can get the sandpaper feeling out of your mouth with a giant beer, but you Irish aren’t allowed to buy giant beers at Christmas markets because it’s never only one and you would go stark raving bonkers. You are only allowed to drink mulled wine in public and for good reason.
Please, please stop trying to get pissed on mulled wine, you will make yourselves sick as donkeys. I was at a Christmas Market the other day with this girl from work, she was nearly my girlfriend until she drank 18 cups of mulled wine and actually turned purple, the ambulance guy said they get a lot of it this time of year. How can we get you Paddies to stop ‘horsing’ the mulled wine into you?
C’mere, what’s the story with sitting on your arse on Christmas Day? We go to my Old Doll’s house every Christmas. It’s easier - she gets very sad if we go to my Mam’s, complaining that we didn’t cook the Spiced Beef for long enough (13 hours!) and bitching because we open our presents before dinner ‘like savages.’
The minute we get in the door of my Old Doll’s gaff, her Mam directs me into the best seat in the house next to the fire, with all the other men in the family. My Old Doll is straight into the kitchen with her sisters to get to work on dinner. It’s like they never heard of Women’s Lib. Anyway, this is a nightmare.
If I don’t get up from the seat and offer to help out, the Old Doll will be on my case well into the New Year, calling me useless and ignorant and lazy.
On the other hand, if I do get up and offer to help, all the lads in her family will accuse me of wrecking Christmas for them, because now they are going to get it off their old dolls, ‘why can’t you be more like Dowcha Donie’, you know that kind of way. Rock and a hard place Audrey, rock and a hard place. What do you think I should do?
Hello it’s Rosealeen here in Ballydesmond. Bad cess to my bitch of a sister in Dublin, she’s after persuading my mother to come to her for Christmas this year and muggins here will have to accompany her up in the train. I love having sex on Stephen’s Day, but I don’t know any men above in Dublin. Surely I can’t be the only 43-year-old spinster looking for meaningless nooky in Dublin on December 26. Do you know if there is a good app where I could hook up with a lad, tell me?