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Saturday, 9 July 2011

Mi Backgraand

                                        
This the start of my Cockney Nick adventure; I hope you like it. It is in fact the dog's.

                                                  Mi Backgraand
I was bawn in the back streets of Landan wiv in ear shot of Bow bells. That makes mi a Cockney froo an’ froo. Livin’ in Eastend frooawt all mi childhood I grew up on a diet of jellied eels, savaloys, bubble an’ squeak an’cockles. We nevva ‘ad meat oa chickin becawse there were no fields, farms, oa anyfin’, foa them to live in. By ten I was earnin’ a livin’ as a barra boy an’ part time feef. Durin’ the day I ran the stawl an’ at night I burgled ‘ouses. By foateen I’d left awl that be’ind mi an’ I learnt a trade wiv mi uncle Tommy. When ‘ee died prematurely by accidentally fallin’ off a roof the business came to mi an’ mi bruvva. The bowff of us worked ‘ard foa firty years until we was bowff millionaires an’ we sold up. Remberin’ back to my childhood an’ my crap diet of stale bread, grizzle, top of the egg,  boilt swede an’ curry I discovered that there was moa to food than that. So, I went on a mission awl ova the world samplin’ the cuisine of uvva nations. I returned wiv a load of strange infections but awlso some great recipees. One day, mi best mate Michael, who’s got a restaurant in taan, said to mi that I should share my experiences wiv uvva people less deservin’ than myself. “Nick”, ‘ee said, “you don’t need to blow the bloody doors off, you should just write a book includin’ awl yoa best stuff. You should call it ‘Nick’s best recipees from awl ova the world’. Typically, I nevva fort noffink abawt it until nah when Raymond awlso mentioned it to mi laast week.
The trouble is, nah I live in the norf of England wiv awl the ‘erberts in a shit’ole called Wigan an’ it’s difficult to be inspired. The main reason I left the saaf was on account of there bein’ no moa birds left foa mi to shag ‘avin’ worked mi way froo Essex, Surrey an’ ‘Artfordshire. Becawse awl the birds up ‘ere are awl ovaweight uncoof tarts I, consequently, needed somefink to occupy my mind so that’s annuvva reason I’ve written the book; awl on my own, wivawt a ghost writer. I don’t need the money cawse I’ve still loads left from mi uvva businesses, but bein’ a generous bugga I fink that the owdinary public need the ‘definitive’ an’ not ‘ave to put up wiv secondraters like Elizabeth bloody Davis, Giorgio Ravafackin’ello oa the fat bastard from Yorkshire.
So, this is it…………………….I know you’ll like it.