Dear Ed,
'Tain't roight, yer know - 'tain't roight at all! Closed me local Postie Office, so now Oi's got ter trek all the ways accrosst ter Penzance Road ter get me pension, what meant I 'ad ter get me lad ter hook up a spare battry in the shoppin' basket on me mobility scooty, just so's I c'n be sure ter get back orlroight...
Mind yew, I gets to play me favourite sport a bit more - it's called " 'Andlebar draggin' ".
What yer do is squeeze past all them big motors what's parked on the verges blockin' the paths, an' scrape yer 'andlebar ends all along 'em (sharpened moine up speshul, I did!). Makes a luvly noise.
Them big Bee-Emm-Wobblies wiv 'arf inch o' lakkery stuff on the metalflake make a sort of 'Skrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr' noise, which sets me false teeth clackin' an' voibratin' sumwhat, but those Merky-Bender barges ("S"charnhorst battleships, I reckon) they're triffic at gettin' the hearin' aids whistlin wiv feedback (clears out me earwax a treat). They get up a noice loud 'Skrreee-eeeee-eeeeeoooo-eeeee' racket. The gaps in the noizes is when yer clip the door gaps, an' the 'ooo' bit's when yer dig a bit deeper to dodge the blimmin' dog poo - summat else wot ain't roight....Good larf, tho' - speshully if the owner's near enuf ter 'ear it but don't see it till yer way dewn the path an' away...
Time ter go get me pennies - gangway! Commin' through....Dink! Oopsie...
Tara till next toime!
Ivor Gripe
No comments:
Post a Comment