Ask Audrey: I’ll be looking to attract well-bred types from all over the world, except Waterford

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C’mere, what’s the story with being a laughing stock on Instagram. The old doll gave up her job to become an influencer, so our spare room is full of free moisturiser and I had to grow a beard, because you can’t influence people unless your fella do have a beard, according to her guru. (She have a guru.) She do be taking photos of her exotic lifestyle all day, even though we live in Tower, and the lads do be pissing themselves at work because half the photos are of me pretending to drink prosecco. (Emasculation, like.) How can I tell her I want to retire from the limelight?

— Eddie, Tower, let me know if you want 25 boxes of organic lip-balm.

I won’t hear a word against social media influencers. I went to a talk one of them was giving in Dublin (the shoulders on him), they were firing out free gin and tonic. After one hour I was under the influence. After two hours I was under the influencer. #OhWhatANight

I saw a few cars driving around with blue and yellow flags last week, so I asked my friend what it meant. She said it’s because a crowd called the Bars (is that how you spell it?) won the county final, so I decided to get a flag myself because I’m a born winner. What my friend neglected to mention is these Bars are from Togher, and now I’m a laughing stock in the RCYC! Please help.

— Graham, Monkstown, not Togher.

I hear ya. (Unfortunately.) The blue and yellow flag is a complete no-no. People will think you’re either from Togher or Tipperary — it’s hard to know which is worse. I happen to know that Posh Cork is livid that Nemo didn’t progress — the black and green flag is such an elegant way of saying “I’m from Douglas myself.”

How’re oo’ goin’ on. We’ve gone into glamping in the low field, after I decided to get out of farming after 40 years. (I never realised it before, but there’s a fierce smell off of pigs.) Anyway, things are going great, there’s no shortage of eejits willing to pay a grand a week to sleep in a tent, as long as you don’t call it a tent. Now, there is an English family coming to stay the weekend and herself thinks we should wear the poppy to make them feel at home. How can I manage this without becoming known as Barry the Brit below here in Dunmanway?

— Barry, Dunmanway.

There’s no avoiding Barry the Brit. You’d have a better chance of finding someone in Knocknaheeny who can tell the difference between hake and monkfish. It can be so hard trying to make visitors feel at home. I had the cousins over from Chicago recently, and thought it would be a nice touch to meet them at the airport in a giant fat-suit. #StoneyFacedYanks

I live in one of the top three estates in Douglas (measured by ski holidays per person per annum, multiplied by the number of Range Rovers in your drive, divided by how much tax you pay.) This guy moved in next door, and I think he might be a Lotto winner. When I asked him what he does he was as uncomfortable as a Norry looking at a wine list. As if that isn’t bad enough, his son is called Derek. (#MarkOfTheNorry.) Do you know of a good private investigator that could get me some answers?

— Monica, Douglas, none of them wear socks.

A plague of hipsters, maybe? You’re talking three months of solid fumigation to get rid of them. I checked with my Posh Cousin. She said, there is a machine now to detect if someone is from the lower orders. I said, how does it work? She said, you just turn on the machine and if they get visibly excited, you’re looking at a Norry. I said, what’s it called? She said, a deep fat fryer. #Versatile.

My mother died after a brief illness, which was a relief for everyone really because it was a pain trying to get up to the hospital every day. (Is it just me, or is traffic around Sunday’s Well after getting really bad?) She left me a six-figure sum and I’ve decided to open a café in town that will only serve people who went to fee-paying schools. (#Genius.) It isn’t just Cork schools, I’ll be looking to attract well-bred types from all over the world except maybe Waterford, because you know yourself. Is there a foolproof way to check if someone went to a fee-paying school?

— Gordon, Sunday’s Well, I’m really good looking.

I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you the best of success, but every time I try I get a bit of vom in my mouth. I’m sure it will be fine though, who wouldn’t want to drink coffee in a room full of people screaming “hasn’t skiing gone really common?!!” As for your questions, I asked my Posh Cousin how would you know if a guy went to Pres. She said, he’ll tell you.

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