Well today's the day for the haircut 1 1/4 hours and counting!

Still not sure what to do with it, but still want a lot chopping off!

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So I made a promise to post something in my dialect. You're not likely to ever hear me speak with SUCH a strong accent but here goes anyway...

Oh, and as I couldn't think of anything to talk about, I have just waffled on about a made up situation.


"It wer a Mundi mornin' an 'e dint 'ave owt to do.

'E'd bin given t' boot from 'is job down't knackers yard.

Not that 'e were bothered, liike - oo'd wanna do that fer any lenth-a-time?

Anyroad, 'e'd wokkenup now, so 'e mayswell gerrup an do summat.
'Is mates'd be downt'pub so 'e could join'em fer a swift 'alf or mebbee even a pie an' a pint.

It wer peein' it down anall, so 'e grabbed his tatty old polo-neck jumper and 'is anorak an' caught t'next bus down town.

The Railway Arms wer a reet spit'n'sawdust place, ashtrays full a dog-ends and soggy beermats ont' tables.

Sandra t'barmaid wer a reet dog and WHAT did she look like?
It wer freezin' out an she'd gorron a shockin' pink boob-tube ('er nips looked like chapel-'at-pegs).

She lived o'er-t'-brush wi a dustman called Pete.
'E wer built like a brick-shit'ouse so no-one gev 'er any flack.

An any'ow, she could pull a pint wi a good 'ead on it, an' that's what really matters innit?"