The Session Pixies are back from their annual winter sojourn in the gulags of D1 to deliver you some respite from your woes. Whether it’s questioning the depths of your masculinity or just seeking an alternative to a good ol’ Tumblr whinge, the Sessions Pixies have your ear.

Dear Session Pixies,

I got one of those new re-issues of the Nokia 3310 to get away from Facebook. It’s great an’ all, but the number 9 button stopped working on it, so I can’t text the letters xyz. When texting my dealer looking for yokes, I just write “any jokes?” as I figure the “j” looks closest to a “y”. My dealer keeps texting me back inappropriate things about Joan Burton.

I even tried mixing the texts up; for example “Have you got any jokes” or “What are the best jokes around these days kind sir?” I am at my wits end, what should I do?

Angela (Irishtown)

Angela,

You stupid bastard, you need to find a new dealer.

Dear Session Pixies,

I was on a Tindr date there last week, Yer wan turned around to me and said, what region is the wine from? I said the reduced to clear in Tesco. She wasn’t impressed, downed the bottle and walked. Just thought you’d like to know.

Mark

Dear Mark,

You’ve dodged a bullet there Mark. If you can’t find love in the Tesco’s reduced to clear section, romance is dead.

Dear Session Pixies,

I’ve been ordering a load of black squidgy hash on the darknet from India, deadly buzz off it. Thing is the last couple of ounces arrived in packages with Mother Theresa stamps on them. Me crazy Granny who lives with us has opened the packages up convinced she is gonna find the third secret of Fatima. She won’t give me the gear back and is now bringing her new fancy new Marmite that “she got from the priests in India” with her to Bingo for all her mates to try. Help, what to do!

Aisling

Dear Aisling,

You are onto a winner there, you are thinking about this the wrong way around. This should not be seen as a loss, but an opportunity, creating new markets where none previously existed. Cop yourself on.

Dear Session Pixies,

Before you say anything I know I’m a sucker but the €127 tv license fee just to see Des Cahill doing the flamenco with some sliver of a thing has me shaking in my galoshes. The cheek of herself then to say I’m keeping her from her Emmerdale… The lads in the local told me it’s not something she could ever understand, the voice of GAA in spandex doing a pirouette for the lads. How do I get her to see ‘Dancing in the Stars’ for what I see it, the last breakdown of shame for Irish masculinity?

Yours,

Samuel.

Dear Samuel,

We believe you’re intellectualising this whole situation too much. There’s not much to intellectualise over in Montrose. We seen Des in spandex and the other fella and the liberal caking of orange on the fella. Respect is not the word. RTÉ have just caught on on capitalising on shame. Bless.