The Market Cross, Bungay LAST CROP A wheezy old allotment holder, puffing at the exertion of lifting his feet over the threshold, entered a seeds-man's shop late in the summer. 'Tanner packet o' stick beans,' he said. 'Sorry, sir,' said the shopkeeper, 'we only sell them in shilling packets.' 'More fool you,' replied the old boy, 'tha's too late to sow a bob's worth.' * * * PROTECTION My brother's boy, aged nine, recently knocked an earwig off his bedroom wall and, as he could not find it on the ground, was terrified that it would hurt him if it got into the bed. 'Don't yew worry,' said his mother. 'That on't hurt yew — but if yew loike yew can put some cotton wool in yar ears ter keep it out.' The boy settled down and his mother went away, to be summoned back shortly after by his urgent call: 'Mum! Mum! Oi on't suffocate, will Oi?' * * * CO-OPERATION The service in the local church was about to begin and the organist impatiently touched the organ keys but no sound came. He hurried round to the back of the organ and said to John, who stood near the hand pump: 'Pump some wind in, so that Oi can start playing.' John promptly replied: 'If yew'd on'y play a little, Oi'd know when to blow.' * * * ALL SUPPLIED A boy came into the village shop and the grocer asked him if it was sweets or biscuits he wanted. 'Both,' said the boy. 'But mum sent me for some soap.' * * *
0 Comments
'No wonder yew look tired Tom bor, tha's a long walk,' said Charlie. 'Well, it wun't s' bad,' said Tom. 'Yew see we took the marster's hoss an' cart an' took tarns in ridin'. Fust the marster rid an' Oi walked, then Oi walked an' the marster rid.' * * * LONG ODDS James met the vicar one day and asked him to say a prayer for Sarah Grey. The following Sunday and the Sunday after that the vicar mentioned her in his prayers, but before the service the following week James told him his prayers were no longer necessary. 'Has the poor dear passed away or is she better?' enquired the vicar. 'Oh noo,' said James. 'She're won the 3.30 at Newmarket last week!' * * * TURNIP HEAD The vicar, walking through the village, saw a boy plucking up turnips after putting his hat over each one in turn. At the next cottage he came to, he remarked to a woman standing at the door: 'Do you know, I've just seen a boy acting strangely in that field — topping turnips with his hat. Eccentric behaviour, it seems to me.' 'Wuh, thass my boy,' she said. 'He ain't soft. I tell he to goo and bring back a few tarnips. He ax me "What size, maw ?" an' I say "Why, as big as yar hid." 'Thass whoi he fit his cap over each on em.' * * * STARVATION FARM When an old boy I know went to a farm carting sugar beet, the farmer (knowing he had experience with horses) said to him: 'Sid, will you hev a look at one o' my old hosses. He's down in the yard and Oi can't git him up.' Sid picked up a large stick and set off towards the yard. 'Yew en't gorn to hit the old hoss with that there stick?' said the farmer. 'No,' said Sid and at once hit the corrugated iron shed and shouted: 'Git up, old hoss.' The animal scrambled to its feet and stood there shaking. 'What dew yew think's the matter with him, Sid?' asked the farmer. 'Well,' said Sid, 'Oi reck'n that old hoss hev sin more dinner toimes than he hev dinners. * * *
To which her husband replied: 'Well, moi dear, Oi hent heared yew be silent yit.' * * * WASPISH A farmer had a wasp sting him in the neck and he went into a dead faint. The men tried to revive him but could not, so they sent for the doctor. When the farmer came round the doctor asked him where the wasp had stung him. He answered: 'In that there field.' * * * FURRIN BODY The local choir were having their annual outing to the seaside and the new young vicar, thinking to give them a treat, had ordered oyster patties for the high tea instead of the usual fish and chips. Old George, who had never seen such things before, gazed at them for a moment or two; then, carefully taking the top off one on his plate, looked inside suspiciously. After poking it with his fork he called: 'Hoi, Vicar, cum yew hare a minute. That look like suffin' have doied in my bun.' * * * THE CHRISTMAS BOX The boy on the farm asked his master for a Christmas box. Putting his hand in his pocket the farmer said: 'Let me see, boy, how much did I give you last year?' 'Nourthing,' replied the boy. 'Well,' said the farmer, 'I'll give you the same this year – but next year don't ask me.' * * * GOOD IDEA 'Oi've bin hevin' me taters up terday,' said Jack, lighting up his pipe in the bar of the Lion. 'Oh, ah,' said his crony. 'How'd they tarn up?' 'Well,' said Jack, 'ter tell yer the truth, bor, Oi got more taters orf the self-sown uns than Oi did orf those Oi set – so Oi think Oi'll set all self-sown uns next year.' * * *
Whereupon Fred fixed him with a severe gaze and replied: 'Yew git on o' your work, marster. Oi'm on the staff up here.' * * * SLOW AND LATE
At a station between Norwich and Ipswich, an American tourist was telling the porter that our railways were small in comparison with those in the U.S.A. and that the trains were slow. He was also grumbling that many of the trains were late. Suddenly the East Anglian express, hauled by a steam locomotive of the Britannia class in wonderfully clean condition, roared through the station at about 70 m.p.h. 'What was that, buddy?' said the American, somewhat surprised. 'Oh, thass on'y old Bill a-shunting,' replied the porter.
'That sartinly is. But that will rearn afore ternight.' The reporter, expecting to hear something of a countryman's weather lore, said: 'What makes you so sure?' 'Well, thass whut t'owd wireless said a s'mornin'.' * * * FIVE MINUTES RUN In my early days as a grocer's assistant in a village shop a customer asked how far it was to the railway station. I told him it was five minutes' walk. My errand boy overheard the conversation and after the man had left he turned to me and said: 'Cor, yew towd him wrong, yew know. Thas on'y five minutes' walk – if yew run!' * * * IT WAS A PLEASURE A Norfolk vicar was called home from his holiday to perform the funeral rites of one of his churchwardens. After the service a parishioner said: 'Sir, it was very kind of you to come back for the funeral.' 'Oh, don't mention it,' replied the vicar. 'I was only too pleased to do it for him.' * * * * * * EPITAPH After my father's death I was passing through the village and the roadman stopped his work to assure me that they 'whully miss the rector — more than when he was alive'. * * * THE BOGUS TELEGRAM
Joe and harry were like peas in a pod. The only subject on which they differed was football. Joe supported the Arsenal while Harry's life-long idols were Aston Villa. In the early 20s, before the advent of radio, Joe made a rare visit to Highbury to see the Gunners play the Villa, promising to send a wire to Harry after the match, thus avoiding the wait for the Sunday papers. The much-looked-forward-to telegram duly arrived in the village and was copied out by the local post-mistress and despatched by a passer-by to Harry. Surrounded by interested friends Harry opened the telegram and read aloud: 'Arsenal 4, Villa 0.' A look of contempt came over his face. Slowly he tore up the envelope and its contents and said to the assembled group: 'Yew can't fool me wi' that there stuff. That en't owd Joe's wroitin'!'
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.
'When 'e got near to my cottage 'e stopped and tapped the winder with 'is whip. I called out: 'Who's there? Wot d'yer want?' 'Do yer know yer left yer bowl outside 'ere,' 'e say. 'Lor Joe,' I say, 'I clean forgot it. I'll come down and bring it in.' 'Don't yer do that,' 'e say. 'Yew open the winder and I'll 'and it up to yer.' 'So I got out o' bed an' opened the winder. The mune wuz up and 'twas as bright as day. Joe, 'e pulled 'is cart up just under the winder an' picked up the bowl and stood up on the seat to 'and it up to me. 'Just as 'e wor liften it up, he say: 'Coo, if I was to call out 'Gee up owd mare' wouldn't there be a mess?' 'The owd fule never said a truer word in his life. When that owd mare 'eard 'im say "gee up" she geed up. I just 'ad time to grab 'old o' the bowl an' Joe 'e fell over into the back of the cart an' the horse and cart went tearing off through the village. 'Laarf! I never laarfed so much in me life! But, lor, when I tried to get the bowl indoors I coon't get it trew the winder, no 'ow!' 'Bless yer,' said the other lady, 'wot ever did yer dew! Did yer shout for 'elp?' 'Shout for 'elp, not likely! A pretty fule I shud a' looked 'anging out o' me bedroom winder at midnight with a mixing bowl in me 'ands an' shoutin' for 'elp. No, I did the only thing I could do... and I'm goin' to Yarmouth agin next Tuesday to buy another bowl.' * * * YOU CAN'T MISS IT A motorist stopped a farm boy and enquired for a certain place. The boy replied: 'Dew yew goo as far as Wiggs' farm, then tarn agin tew haystacks, then howd ter the left past the parson's, down a hill, oover the bridge, then tearke the second rud ter the right an' if yew keep a-goin' right yew caan't goo wrong.' * * * THE DOCTOR KNOWS BEST Two brothers, both bachelors, used to live near our village. Their surname was Theobald, locally pronounced Tebbled'. One of them was very ill and near his end and when the doctor called he said: 'Ah, poor fellow, he's gone.' But a weak voice from the bed announced : 'I en't dead, doctor.' Whereupon his brother said: 'Howd yar tongue. The doctor know better'n yew.' * * * THE WATER-SPLASH A motorist, coming to a water-splash across the road, asked a local countryman who was standing on the footbridge: 'Can I get through?' 'Yis,' said the local man. The motorist got half way through when the car stopped, its wheels and engine pretty well covered by the water. Shouted the angry motorist: 'I thought you said I could get through ?' 'Well Oi jest see some ducks go acrorst, so I thought yew could anorl!' * * * WAIT FOR THE FUNERAL An old fellow was ill in bed and had not been allowed anything to eat for several days. One day the doctor called and told the wife her husband wouldn't last much longer and he could have anything he liked to eat. After the doctor had gone the old woman called up the stairs: 'The doctor say yew can hev anythin' yew loike ter eat,' and the old man called back with delight: 'Cor, Oi'd loike some o' that there ham yew 're a-got cookin' down there!' To which came the sharp retort: 'Yew caan't ha' that. Tha's for yer funeral.' * * * THE NEW BUTES John had a new pair of boots and one day he said to me: 'Mr Reg, I're a got a lovely pair of butes. But dew yew know Oi hed to wear 'em a week afore Oi could git 'em on.' * * * SPRING CLEANING
Burnham Overy church had a three-decker pulpit. The old sexton occupied the bottom part and just above him the vicar read prayers and then went into the top portion to preach his sermon. In the church, too, were the old high pews which had doors in them and little boxes in which the regular worshippers kept their books. One Sunday, at the end of the sermon, the old sexton stood up and said: 'Will all on yer that leaves their books, tearke 'em as the chutch is goin' ter be white-washed yaller.'
At that moment the owner arrived and, noticing the old man, slapped him on the shoulder, remarking: 'There you are, Fred, my horses know when they've had enough.' Came the reply without hesitation: 'Ah, bor, an' so do Oi —if tha's on'y water!' * * * THE EXPERT A farmer was taking a few friends round his farm and they showed an interest in an apple tree bearing some nice-looking fruit. They asked its name and the farmer called to an old man working nearby: 'Come here, George. You've been about here a lot longer than I have. Can you tell us what apple this is?' The old man dropped his hoe, came over, looked at the tree and said: 'Oi think Oi can tell yew if yew'll gimme one t' try.' He was given one and after taking a good bite and chewing it for a minute or more, said: 'Ah! Oi thought Oi knowed! Why, tha's a airten apple that that is.' * * * A NEW FISH An elderly gentleman with every device that wealth could procure for the catching of fish, had been standing for many hours on the river bank without having the slightest success. He had a magnificent rod, silken line, expensive cast, book of flies, capacious creel, a fine landing net and gaff. Imagine the poor old gentleman's surprise when a small boy appeared on the scene with a stick, a piece of string, a hook and a worm as his sole outfit and safely landed a fine fish within two minutes. The small boy lingered not but ran off home with his catch in his hand. As he entered the cottage his mother exclaimed : 'Why, Johnny, whatever dew yew call that fish yew caught?' 'Oi dunno,' said Johnny, 'but the owd booey fishin' near me said that wus a Ruddy Limit.' * * * THE COMFORTABLE METHOD Upon entering a hospital ward a male nurse found a patient with a rope round his waist suspended from the ceiling. 'An' what dew yew think yar a-doin' on, bor?' Patient: 'Oi'm a-hangin' meself.' Male Nurse: 'Yew want ter put the rope round yar neck tew dew that.' Patient: 'Oi ent that daft. I tied ut there an' ut very nearly killed me.' * * * BREVITY An elderly lady was interviewing a girl with a view to employing her as a domestic. 'Very well, Audrey,' said she in conclusion. 'I think you will suit me very well, provided that you always remember that I am a woman of few words. So if you see me beckon, like this, you will know that I mean "come here!" ' 'Tha's orright missus!' replied Audrey cheerfully. 'Oi'm a woman o' few words, too. So if yew see me shake moi old skull, loike this, yew'll know Oi ent a-comin'!' * * * OUR VILLAGE A Norfolk school mistress asked her pupils to write an essay on the amenities of the village. One wrote: 'This here is a large village. We hev two doctors an' one cemetery.' * * * DRARP UT, DAVID
A boy was asked in one of the village schools to give an account of David and Saul and this is what he said: 'Saul he went an' lay squat in a cave an' David he come in arter him an' David he saay to Saul: "What dew yew keep a-huntin' o' me about for? Oi en't done narthin' to yew. Dew yew drarp it." '
* * * SOME TATER An old farmer told one of his farm boys to go and borrow a crosscut saw — his mangolds were so big he couldn't lift them into the cart. The boy went and said: 'Please, sir, my master watta burrer yar crosscut. His mangolds are so big he carn't lift 'em inter the cart.' 'Well, bor,' replied the neighbour, 'dew yew tell yar marster Oi'm sorry – but moi crosscut is stuck in a tater.' * * *
* * * TIME TO TURN BACK I remember years ago an old agricultural labourer suddenly decided to take up cycling. He bought himself a tricycle. One day he thought he would visit his 'old mates' at Ingham, 18 miles away, so he pushed off one very hot morning and to my amazement came back in about four hours. 'You're back early,' I said. 'Ah, bor,' he said, 'Oi gotta far as Stalham an' Oi wus that there hot Oi wus all of a muck-sweat. Oi said to moiself: "Oi'm a-goin' home, bor. Oi'll dew that thare other bit tomorrer.' * * * A SLIGHT CASE OF EXAGGERATION There was an old fellow, generally known as Jarge, who on Sundays used to come to a little mission room in Briston, many years ago. He was so much inclined to exaggerate that his wife, who usually came with him, once said: 'You know, Jarge, yew dew stretch it so much when yew're a-talkin' Oi sometimes feel almost ashamed.' 'If yew dew think Oi'm overdewin' on it, jest yew corf, gentle-like,' he replied. 'Oi shall know what it means.' The next Sunday he was speaking on the subject of Samson letting loose the foxes into the cornfields with fire brands on their tails. 'And, yer know,' he was saying, 'some o' them 'ere foxes 'a' got tails six foot long . . . ' 'H'm, h'm!' coughed his wife. 'Well, p'raps not quite six foot. But 'bout's long as this 'ere mat on the floor 'ere.' 'H'm, h'm!' Jarge sighed a little and after a slight pause said: 'O' course, they int all on 'em got tails the same length. Some on 'em might only be about a yard.' 'H'm, h'm!' Then, turning slightly aside he said: 'Yis and yew may corf. Oi 'ont take another inch orf.' * * * WASTING TIME
A local parson had some glebe land he required ploughing and he hired a neighbouring farmer's horseman and team to do the work. Watching, the parson noticed that the horseman stopped for some time at the end of each furrow, so he asked the reason for this apparent waste of time. 'Must wind the hosses, parson, must wind the hosses,' was his reply. The parson went away, returned with a hedging tool and said: 'While the horses are getting their wind, John, you might cut the hedge for me.' John was somewhat taken aback and said: 'Parson, yew know that although we have a large family an' there is a lot of housework to do, moi missus an' me come to charch every Sunday?' 'Yes, I know, John,' the parson answered, 'and very pleased I am to see you.' 'Well,' said John, 'how would that be if next Sunday Oi brought a stone of taters in a bowl an' yew peeled 'em toime we're singing the hymns?'
'Yew know yer own wishes best, sir, o' coorse. But some folk loike t' chewse their last resting place while they can, yer know. That'd be noice like, yer know, to rest there along o' yer dear woife and' — looking at my sister and me — 'see how noice that'd be for yer daughters to hev their father and mother booth t'gither.' He laid his hand on one of those box-like tombs and began to play with the lid, lifting it an inch or two and closing it again, up and down, as he tried to persuade father to come and stay in his cemetery for good. I looked at my sister and saw that she was having difficulty with her facial expression. The name on the tomb was "Henrietta Caroline'. We walked away, still trying to conceal our mirth. The cause of it was that the name recalled a nursery rhyme we had known as children: "Henrietta Caroline dipped her head in turpentine." Soon, with more or less composed features, we returned to hear our father say: 'Well, thanks very much. I don't feel like being buried anywhere just now. When I do I'll let you know.' * * * THE THOUGHTFUL RODENT The vicarage gardener had set a trap for a rat, which was preying on the chicken's food and he reported success. 'Oh, poor thing!' said the vicar's wife. Is it dead?' 'Yes, mum. I hit it on the hid.' 'Oh, didn't it look frightened when you approached it?' 'Well, mum, that looked kinder thoughtful.' * * * FUST TO BE LARST In a Norfolk village some harvesters had had a hot dinner brought to them in the field — all except one old gentleman. Although he lived as near to the field as anyone his wife never seemed to arrive on time. This annoyed him and he began to grumble and at last he said: 'Them as live nighest are allus the fust to be larst.' * * * THE SURE CURE At the local market, Tom saw his friend Ernest approaching, hands deep in his trousers pockets and a worried expression on his face. 'Mornin' Arnie. Wa's wrong o' you?' 'Wa mornin' Tom, bor, Oi was a-thinken o' moi owd cow what got the colic. Oi reckon Oi shall lose har.' 'Oi had a cow with colic week afore last,' said Tom by way of comfort. 'What did yew dew for har?' asked Ernest. 'Whoi,' said Tom, 'Oi give har a pint o' warm tarpentoine.' Ernest went home, called at the ironmonger's to get a pint of turpentine and treated his cow according to Tom's instructions — and had to call in Skinner, the horse-slaughterer, next morning to take his dead cow away. Puzzled, he made up his mind to check on Tom's cure and next time they met his first words were: 'Tom, bor, what did yew say yew give yar owd cow when that had colic ?' 'Wa, tarpentoine, Arnie, a pint o' warm tarpentoine.' 'Tha's what Oi thought yew said. Oi give moi owd cow some and that doid,' said Arnie, scratching his head. 'So did moine,' said Tom! * * * AFTERNOON TEA The new minister called upon one of his poorest parishioners, an old lady living in a small cottage, who invited him to have a cup of tea. The minister eyed the dirty cloth, half-empty milk bottle with a fly floating in it and the dirty cup and saucer. He tried to excuse himself but the old lady insisted. He watched her pour out the tea and saw the fly plump into the cup with the milk. He decided that the only way he could drink the tea at all would be to use the other side of the cup. 'Well I never!' remarked the old lady and when the minister asked what was remarkable: 'I have been watching you drinking your tea,' she said, 'an' noticed you are left-handed, just like me.' * * * THE MAN WHO LOST HIS TICKET Owd Garge, who travelled regularly between Norwich and Newmarket during the racing season, was looked upon as 'good for a bit of a joke' by many of his fellow-travellers. On one occasion Garge was sleeping peacefully in a corner with his ticket sticking out of his waistcoat pocket. One of his cronies slipped the ticket gently from the pocket without waking him. Half an hour later: 'Come on Garge! Wake up! They collect tickets at the next stop.' Poor old George, still half asleep, felt in all his pockets and over his face crept a look of deep concern. 'Oi a-lorst me ticket,' he said, addressing the carriage as a whole. 'What am a a-goan to du.' 'Yew'd better git under the seat,' said the other travellers almost in unison. With much cursing, puffing and blowing, George managed to squeeze under the seat where he remained, half suffocated by dust and with a toffee-paper sticking firmly to his right ear, until the train stopped. 'Tickets please!' and the collector was at the door. The man nearest handed him the tickets. The collector looked at them and scratched his head, There were five tickets and only four passengers. 'Where's the other one?' he asked. The man by the window pointed under the seat. 'There's the owd fule,' he said. 'He thinks he's lorst his ticket.' * * * On another similar journey a man sat in a corner of the carriage fast asleep. His ticket was firmly gripped between his teeth and a gentle, rhythmic snore floated across the air. At the stop before Newmarket: 'Tickets please!' called the collector.
All the occupants of the carriage gave up their tickets except the man in the corner. He woke with a start and began to feel in one pocket after another then slowly shook his head. After watching impatiently for a time the collector snatched the ticket from the man's mouth and slammed the door. A parson was sitting opposite and had been watching the incident with amused interest. He tapped our friend on the knee and said: 'Surely you knew it was there?' 'Yis,' was the reply. 'Oi wus suckin' yisterday's date off!' |
Boy Albie
Norfolk born and bred. Archives
August 2020
|