I TOOK a look back at my 2021 predictions there, and I’m not sure my future is in horoscopes. But I’m probably wrong about that as well.
I completely missed that Garth Brooks fever was alive and well and living in a large tract of bogland in North Tipperary. I thought that we’d all moved on and that Garth was about as popular as a scientist in Kilgarvan. Just goes to show what I know. He obviously still appeals to the kind of people who get the horn at the sight of a Massey Ferguson — the Tractor Shaggers went all in and bought enough tickets for five gigs.
The good news is that the gigs are in Dublin. The bad news is that the planet is going down the jacks and we’ll probably end up with a northerly wind strong enough to blow the sound of Garth all the way down from Croke Park.
Covid is still with us. It’s like that German girl you met in Thailand. You said ‘look me up if you’re ever in Cork,’ because Irish people are hopeless at saying goodbye. And now she’s living on your couch for the last six months.
‘When will it ever end,’ you say out loud as you walk around the house, but she’s playing dumb because she gets daily property price alerts from Myhome.ie and have you seen the rent for a one-bed apartment?
The whole rent for a one-bed apartment thing is only going to end one way — Taoiseach Mary Lou. I have only three words for that situation — tiocfaidh ár lá.
Seriously, if you can’t beat them, join them. Make sure to put the fadas on your letters when you’re writing as gaeilge, anything else could be enough to rule you out of a job in the civil service.
I hear the Douglas Road crowd are all republicans these days — you can actually hire a guy called Proinsias who will invent an imaginary grand-uncle who distinguished himself in the West Cork Brigade of the (good) IRA.
I’m told you’re no one in Posh Cork these days unless a relation of yours shot a few Brits in Kilmichael. Expect a lot more of that carry-on. I’ll eat my broad black brimmer if the Victorian Quarter isn’t re-named Sráid Tom Barry by the end of 2023.
Along with a fáinne, the other must-have in Posh Cork in 2022 is a Posh Pond, perfect for wild swimming. Ed Sheeran has one, and everyone likes him even though he wrote a song about Galway (Shower of Bongo Jugglers).
Sorry, but that hot tub you got in Woodies basically screams ‘I’m on less than 60 grand a year’. A Posh Pond is a body of water out the back that isn’t a swimming pool. According to the Posh Cousin, anything with chlorine is a bit Model Farm Road and a clear sign that you’d be weak for yourself if you managed to get into Lee Valley Golf Club. (Imagine.) Expect a lot of Ultans on the Blackrock Road to get a Posh Pond in 2022, along with a dose of dysentery. In fact, don’t be one bit surprised if dysentery is the must have disease for Cork’s One Per Cent in the coming years.
This might be a long shot, but look out for Cork getting a new name. Dan Boyle Land. 2022 is the year that every last street in the city centre will get either a new cycle lane or parklet thingy, thanks to Dan and his buddies in the Greens.
So it might just be easier to name the place after him at this stage. Particularly since parking spaces are going to be as scarce as a PhD in Kanturk.
It’s a bloody disgrace. The locals up in Sundays Well are juggling with the biggest question of them all — is it ever ok to get on a public bus? Dan’s one-man-war on parking spaces is forcing the issue around Posh Cork and I predict a boom in the fancy dress business so that our gilded overlords can disguise themselves as Norries on the bus. Or I suppose they could always just buy a Liverpool jersey.
Which brings us to sport. Hopefully Ireland will be wiped out by an asteroid in July because I can’t take another loss to Limerick in Croke Park. Limerick, like. Who do they think they are? Us? Outrageous. I have it on good authority though that their success is causing a lot of unease at the top table of Cork society. You see, Limerick got super-rich JP McManus to buy them three All-Irelands. (Everyone knows this — it’s official.)
I hear that the dripping-in-money types on the Blackrock Road are refusing to answer their phones in case it’s someone from the Cork county board looking for ‘a few quid’. (