Snatches of an overheard and possibly misheard conversation…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s economic forecast is for monetary eggs dropping like stones into wet concrete.

‘Years ago we was tired.’
‘More go-a-mon.’
‘Wild light…’
‘Living with it.’
‘Butter them on together.’
‘They their car towards.’
‘No, that was his other operation.’
‘Pell-ettick and the other things.’
‘Dame argue…’
‘Threw rose-coloured glasses.’
‘Don’t like it…’
‘At school they covered it up.’
‘Daily Mail.’
‘Wife baby oh…’
‘Ands, this wet Sarah.’
‘The bee campaign.’
‘He started it and then died.’
‘Demmo tripe pipe.’
‘It was Dundee Burt…’
‘Porshack depends on holiday.’
‘Never realised it was going to go for ten quid.’
‘Now load… I’ve seen her…’
‘The lady thick thick.’
‘I like Scotland, but it’s a bit…’
‘I don’t condemn them for it.’
‘I think no… two-thousand-six-hundred.
‘Benedict London landlords…’
‘Pay so-and-so… and fat people.’
‘Pellon, now please.’
‘Brown my feet across there too.’
‘You can tell by the angle of the cup.’

Please scream this out in a public place as soon as is convenient.

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
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