Overheard and misheard snatches of cafe conversation…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s existential angst is centred around the soft rustling noise in the garden shed.
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If you like, you could have a look at yesterday’s post, ‘Verbal brain bubbles’, which is on how I come up with these snatches of cafe conversation, both overheard and misheard…

‘Okay, diddy diddy…’
‘Smarm then.’
‘Me and my haircut.’
‘A penny folder?’
‘She was seven all over!’
‘It was probably Abba.’
‘Was it negative wear?’
‘Deep pendrills?’
‘To dream my dreams…’
‘He’ll be staying in, thinking that!…’
‘She fumbled the baking.’
‘I’ve got all the pain.’
‘Yes, to the milk in it.’
‘Farthay…’
‘Mothering Day…’
‘To these old factories…’
‘A Monday fry day.’
‘I can’t believe more or less.’
‘He’s frightened to not be in.’
‘I’ve got clean knives now.’
‘The Lord is modern!’
‘A looking-rug.’
‘James comes through the hole.’
‘It’s saturated, but not damaged.’
‘It was run-over cake!’
‘Dainty woomarines?’
‘I don’t know your rats!’
‘A yard of bee stains.’
‘I’ve got a sinking knee.’