"Stuffed olives??? Shove off!"
Ey up, lads! It’s me, Northern Dave. This is me new column on t’interweb. It’s taken me a while, I’ve had to use one of them computer thingys. It’s mental. I push these buttons, rart, and all this stuff comes up on this screen. It’s rart weird. Alien technology, I tell thee.
Anyway, this week, I’ve been reading about that Rooney. What a daft sod. I couldn’t believe what I were reading int Daily Star. Apparently, he were paying 1400 quid ferrit – 1400 quid to get end away! A night! Madness! You could buy a 2-bed semi in Osset fer that! Star reckoned he were a bit kinky an’ all. Apparently, rart, he paid extra to talk dirty to her. What’s all that about? I talk dirty to ma missus all the time, for free. This morning, I told her to clean the bastard kitchen.
And why’s he payin’ ferrit? Bloke like that must be able to pull. He should have just gone down t’working mens club or local. Ma local’s perfect fer that – he should get down t’ Swingin Grapes in Pontefract. I pulled in there once, before I met ma missus of course! Lovely fella he was, reet gentle. It were never going to work though, he were too posh. One time, he took me to this fancy restaurant and had one of them starters before his dinner. Starters! Tiny bit o’food! For three bloody quid too! That’s Nando’s fer you though.
Rart, better pop off. The missus just got me Last u’t Summer Wine box set to watch, on them new VHS tapes. See thee later.