Ey up lads, Northern here. Think I’m gettin’ hang of this compooter lark. I’ve even had a go at one of them games. You move this wall thing around on’t side of screen, rart, and it bounces this ball around. It’s rart clever! It’s even got colours – black AND green! And do yer know, some folk ent even heard of compooters. I told some fella at work I were gettin’ one and he said “Are you gettin’ an apple?” An apple? What the fook would I do with that??? Daft sod.
A man's man.
I watched England game last night. Usual rubbish, int it? I agree with that Townsend, none of youngsters get a chance – too many bloody foreigners coming over, that’s what it is. That’s why my old man’s always said. I’m not sure he were always talking about football mind, but it’s all same int it? Too many of ’em, coming over here, tekkin’ best jobs in football teams. And all that fuss over tackling and that this week. They’re too bloody soft this lot. No real men. Not like Sir Geoff – he were a real man. Boycott, that is. Proper man’s man – no nonsense, rart brave, straight down line, and a lovely athletic figure at the crease an all….
Anyway, glad the summer’s over. Too bloody hot, int it? Who wants to be hot all’t time? That’s why I never go abroad. Why would yer? Funny food, real odd folk and some of ’em don’t even speak English! Not a fookin’ word! Imagine! Nah, I prefer it here where there’s proper weather. Rain, sleet, cloud and that. Proper English weather. Yer can keep yer Tanner-reefs and your Bendi-norms any day. Give me a freezin’ bastard cold week in Donnie any day.
Rart, off I pop, smells like the missus has dished up that tripe an’ liver stew. I’ll see thee.