Favourit Souvenir. When I was a kid I used to go to the seaside at Bogna on Sandays wiv mi auntie Effil an’ uncle Jimmy. I had been savin’ foa a month an’ was determined to buy mi mum somefink special foa ‘er birfday an’ ‘er so soon comin’ out of ‘ospital. On previous trips I had seen this china replica of Lassie in a gift shop on the front but when I went to buy it the price had gone up by two pence which was moa than I had. I asked the shopkeeper to let mi ‘ave it foa the old price seein’ it was foa mi sick mum an’ I had been savin’ foa weeks. He looked daan at mi an’ said, “Fack off you little cant, fack off where you belong!” When I went back cryin’an’ told mi uncle Jimmy he said to leave to him an’ that he would soawt it. Sure enough I was given the gift by the shopkeeper wivout spendin’ any of my money. My mums face lit up when I brought it ‘ome an’ she gave it pride of place on ‘er mantle until she died. I have kept to this day reminding me of mi mum, that shopkeeper in Bogna and uncle Jimmy the Saw, as he was affectionately known in the manor. But, nowadays I brings loads of souvenirs back from Tieland. Luckily I’ve got an understandin’ quack who can prescribe the appropriate medication.
Favourite Album. Chas an’ Dave’s greatest hits. You expected me to say that didn’t you becawse I’ve been a barra boy brought up in the east end of Landan you seriously fort that I would say Chas an’ bloody Dave: well I can honestly say that I think they are shite, rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, fackin’ rabbit, its bollox. I will awlways prefer Cliff’s Love Songs, Barry’s Coco Cabana an’ Marc Tainted Love.
Phobias. I am continually worried that one day people will wake up and think that my food an’ recipees are pants. I expect evri uvva chef in the world finks the same an’ feels a wittle insecure on occasions. The wisperin’ at the table gets mi angry oa foa instance when the steak is sent back becawse it ain’t ‘blue’, ‘pink’, too bloody en cuit, fackin’ ‘rose’ oa not tare bloody tare. If that was mi mate Gawdon ‘ee’d frow ‘em out of the place an’ probably beat ‘em up foa good measure. But on a moa serious note I would hate foa people to fink that I ain’t artistic, sensitive oa intelligent just cawse of mi background, an’ the fort that I wasn’t regarded by mi mates as equal just cawse I’ve got everfin a man would want and moa, often boffers mi, but I soon gets ovva it.
