His first call, obviously, had to be at the barber's and in he strolled with a 'good mornin'' greeting to the proprietor and the remark: 'Kin I hev a shave, bor.' George sat in the chair and the operation was duly performed, not without perspiration from the brow of the proprietor and tears from George. 'How much dew Oi owe yew, bor ?' asked George, and received the answer, much to his disgust: 'Two shillings, if you please.' 'Tew bob!' said George, 'Cor, blarst, bor, Oi only pay tuppence where I come from.' 'Well, two shillings is my charge,' said the proprietor. At that moment George gazed at the ceiling. 'Marster,' he said, 'yew a-got a rare ol' lot o' flies on yar ceiling, hen't yew?' 'Yes,' said the barber. 'It's a job to get rid of them at this time of the year.' 'Well,' remarked George, 'Oi'll tell yew how ter git rid on them. Yew just gi' me that two bob back and Oi'll tell yew.' The barber was only too pleased to repay George the two shillings to receive such information. 'Thanks, marster,' said George. 'Well yer see, yew git a-howld o' each one on them flies, shearve the b****r like yew shearved me an' charge 'em two bob an' they on't come any more!' * * * A TOUCH OF INDIGESTION Arthur had served in many theatres of war and seen something of the world. He determined that, when he was demobilised, things had got to be improved back home in the wilds of West Suffolk. Arriving home one night and, before going indoors, he went round the back. There, at the end of the garden path, stood the little shed beneath the apple tree. Taking the grenade from his pocket, he withdrew the pin with his teeth — and threw. Seconds later the privy ascended with a mighty roar. A voice at his elbow said: 'Yew shoon't ha' done that, Arthur. Yer ma wus in there!' Arthur rushed down the path to the spot where the privy had stood. There, in the crater, sat Ma, covered in debris and bewilderment. 'Gosh, Ma,' cried Arthur, 'Oi'm sorry! Gosh, Oi am sorry!' 'Thass all right,' gasped Ma, struggling to get her breath. 'Thass not your fault. That must a-bin suffin' Oi've eat.' * * *
Drawing alongside my friend called out: 'Why on earth didn't yew tell me the rud wus blocked yew silly so-and-so?'
'Yew never arst me,' the driver replied in his best Norfolk accent.
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Boy Albie
Norfolk born and bred. Archives
August 2020
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