My cousin works in publishing because he’s terrified of making money. I asked him what he thought of your idea. He said that’s the worst book idea I’ve heard since The Sophisticated People of Knocknagree. I said, is that really a book? He said, it’s more of a flier really.
I’m amazed they call you at all. I don’t know, it seems like an awful waste of time and money to fly half way around the world to a terrifyingly dangerous waste-land — particularly when you live so close to Carrigaline.
Dhere, mhuise, crysht, you might!! I’ve only one thing to say to people who think West Cork is riddled with drugs: you should see Midleton. Anyway, I won’t be there. The only thing worse than an afternoon with Boris Johnson would be falling down three flights of stairs into a bucket of vomit. (Flashback to my hen!)
My cousin gave me a very good deal on a naughty nurse outfit when My Conor was having problems with erectile dysfunction. (Still a waste of money.) I said to her, what’s the best way to look like a Norry? She said wear a moustache. I said OK and what if you want to look like a GUY from the northside? #Hilaire.
I tend to talk a lot during sex, usually telling My Conor not to worry, it could happen to the best of us. #WhiteLie I passed your question on to my sex expert friend from Kinsale. She said, that’s actually classified as a fetish practised by debauched perverts. I said, talking during sex? She said, no, getting turned on by a Mitchelstown accent. #MightAsWellBeFromTipp