Tuesday 30 March 2010

Eets the croonching-g and the roostling-g

Tim the haberdasher, tells me about going to the ballet in Birmingham. He asks for some nuts at the kiosk to nibble at during the performance. The Brummie lass serving looks at him with puzzled contempt and says [and I can't do justice to Tim's performance of this incident, very sorry, you'd have to see Tim wrapping his lips round the big Brummie vowels and contorting his face to get the full effect]: We down't do noots fer the bal-ay. Eet's the croonching-g and the roostling-g. Eet poots the dancers off. We do noots fer the pantomime but we down't do noots for the bal-ay

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