C’mere, what’s the story with sitting next to a langer from Kerry on the train. I was in Dublin yesterday for a tracksuit convention and we were happy out leaving Kent Station, everyone in the carriage calling each other a langer, but in a friendly Cork way, do you know what I mean? Then we got to Mallow and this sly gowl off the Killarney train sat next to me wearing an aftershave that was probably called ‘Who Farted, Lads?’ Next thing you know, he’s trying to make conversation with that accent they have. Is there anything to be said for a Cork only carriage? — Dowcha Donie, Blackpool, I felt sorry for the poor fella to be honest with you
>> Me too — two hours sitting next to a norry. (Imagine.) I contacted Irish Rail to see if there would be any interest in a Cork only carriage. The woman said they get thousands of requests for that every year. I said from Corkonians? She said no, people from the other 31 counties. (Apparently we’re unbearable.)
Hey dude. I’ve developed this super-cool app that calls up your employees in the run up to Christmas and says: “You’ve been replaced by a robot. Happy holidays.” People love the convenience, so now I’m totally a billionaire. Anyway, my Pop’s Grandpop is totally from Bantry so I’m down here now opening an office. #GivingBack. The thing is, my name is Brendan, but the locals down here keep calling me Brindin. That is so not on, guys. Is there a way to put them right? — Brendan, San Francisco
>> I’m sure you have a guru on retainer. Maybe you could book him to give a motivational talk to the locals called ‘There is no i in Brendan.’ Only messing, it would be a complete waste of time. Trying to get a Bantry person to pronounce Brendan is as pointless as England after the group phase of the World Cup. (They should consider erecting a hard border in front of their goal.) #Topical.
Hello old stock. Myself and Hoggy are supposed to be in Australia, supporting Ireland in the rugby and shouting “Ye flamin’ Sheila mongrels” at hot Aussie stunners. (They love the Irish sense of humour.) Unfortunately Hoggy got talking to two very liberated minor German aristocrats in Heathrow, and long story short, we’re currently doing the medical exam to join a sex and bondage cult here in the Black Forest. I can’t see us leaving, which is a problem, because myself and Marjorie were due to hit Crookhaven in mid July for our annual display of wealth. Any chance you could tell her I’m at a work thing, I’ll be back home before Christmas? — Reggie, Blackrock, the Germans are mad for the old sex
>> They must be, if you’re getting some action. I rang Marjorie there and told her that something came up at work. She said, it’s been a long time since anything came up for Reggie, do you think he’ll be tied up for long?
I said that’s kind of how it works alright.
How’re oo’ goin on? Herself is after falling in with a gang of surrealists
back in Bantry and didn’t she come home and say we should rediscover the auld intimacy, and us in our eighties. I said what do you have in mind and she said it might be time to try something new in the bedroom. Do you think she means wallpaper? — Dan Paddy Andy, head out beyond Drimoleague until you see a man who has managed to get this far without shampoo
>> #Greasy. I asked my niece about this, she’s an apprentice sex expert. (Her research includes a weekend in Kinsale.) She said people in their 80s get very frisky at this time of year. I said, the weather? She said no, Daithi and Maura are off for the summer, and all the oldies are bored stiff. I said what new thing could an 80-yearold bogman try during sex? (No offence.) She said take off his wellies. (Offence.)
My husband and I can afford to live in Lindville on the Blackrock Road because we’re both exceptionally well paid project managers. (Just thought I’d tell you.) Anyway, we carried out a deep-dive review of the recent heatwave and all the evidence suggests there is no point going to the beaches around Cork because they are infested with northsiders. We are now brain-storming a new leisure strategy going forward and would love to hear your thoughts. — Monica, Linvdville (one of the bigger houses), Blackrock Road, I’m on medication
>> Thank God. I checked with the Posh Cousin on this. She said steer clear of beaches that are served by bus or train. I said, but Norries have cars. She said I know, but they couldn’t afford them back in the 1970s, when they went to Fountainstown with their Nana. I said, but how do we know Norries never change their ways? She said you can read all about it in my new book. I said what’s it called? She said, ‘We Do Still Be Eating Bodice and Meeting Each Other Outside Roches Stores’. #Longwinded
This sly gowl off the Killarney train sat next to me wearing an aftershave that was probably called ‘Who Farted, Lads?’