Bring on the Clowns

I were doing my favourite past time, ear wigging in a pub recently. What an enlightening experience. Cut glass accents and nauseating bilge.

'Must get the BM' serviced; isn't steak getting expensive, eating out more than twice a week's quite exorbitant; I say, it's so cold, can't wait for Christmas in the Bahamas; and aren't gym fees getting expensive.'

Now it's nowt to do wi me but what daft apuths. Who sang 'Times They are A'changing'; a truism indeed.

Owd yer sweat and stop yer grizzlin', yov no idea 'What's it all about, Alfie.'

Ow were dragged up in Ockbrook, a very desirable place to live in Derbyshire. Now full of some very posh people; or at least they think they're posh.

We 'ad nowt thenadays but we didn't do the chunterin' this lot do.

Right mardy boggers. They don't know what it is to scrat for the rent. Steak, there were no steak when I were young. If yow got bread and dripping for snap you et it an' gor on wi' it.

And nesh buggers, they don't know what code is. I've bin all of a shek wi code many a time. It's starvin, so what. A birra snow never urt no-one. Pura another ganzi on and stop mitherin. And if their doolally div kids did more instead of slormin about at 'om they wouldn't feel the code 'alf so much. Plus they wudna be so fat. Gym fees, gym fees, that's a belter. We just put our pumps on and ran roun' village until we were taitered. Us kids might 'ave been lairy but there were no fat kids in our day. I cud clonk em, I really cud. If they want to talk rammel, it's their, whats that posh word, preg, prog, progative. But as my mother would have said, 'Ah canna abide snobs, mi duck, but ni mind eh.'