Thah is what Thah is

Weekend



Does thah nah, wi 'ad a smashin weekend,

Got up about 8 we did , 'ad a fry up wi al't works , couple o', eggs , streaky bacon , bangers , black pudding n'al , fried n lard , the proper way , cah't beat it ,

Bert tended 't pigeons, splashed a'rt on a new loft fah'em he did wi't brass from't sale o't cottages.

Loves them birds he do, cleaned ar't ferrets, fair 't fettling ' n all , bonnie little buggers, not mi cup o tea tho', lee'k like rolled ah't rats t'mi, Reminds mi o' , Richard Whiteley when I si 'em , Bloody soft sod , whinging on, just cos one o 'em ,bit his finger, never forget it, God bless 'im.

“Git dinner ready, 'n, wi can go darn't , pub for a jar “ , Bert said wiping , 'is, hands on't, te', towell , d'nt, need asking twice mi , good lad mi hubby , teek's me wi 'im, on a Sunday he di , not, like sum o mi mates blokes, dn't bother , thi dn't. Wun't do f 'mi that. Nah ees a good 'n, mi Bert.

Packed it wa', the local, well, once wi could get inside, f'st it wa car park, full o 4x4's, bloody 'oss, boxes and bikes wi daft baskets on't front, then folk stood outside smoking , freezing there nuts off they wah. Ya, cah't smoke inside ni more, gone barmy t 'as, it’s nah that long ago since thah let women in't tap room, at Horse n Fodder, chaos that caused 'n all.

All 't landlords arr' up in arms, used to be pillars o't, community thah did , now all 't, pub companies, as snapped all't pubs from t' Breweries and buggered em all up, then darn government as stuck thar snecks n 'all let pubs open longer , nobody knows when they’ll see thar blokes, not t'll brass as ran ar't , and thee as no chance o putting owt else on't slate , gone downhill t's pub game .

Na'h , anyone who can sign a cross on a lease n dangle tha keys from 'is belt can have a pub, Daft if thah ask mi. All daft sods , get monk on thah 'da , when thah pub , goes Belly up, an loose every thin , They'll nither learn

Al 't tables, wi full en all, wi posh folk ordering weird food, grilled this n that, organic whatnots. florets polonaise , [ne'er 'erd o' it], fancy sauces, vegetarians , seaweed, freaks, " What’s this cooked in ,what’s that cooked in", GM modified , summat or other, "o'h, not beef drippin", fussy buggers lot of em.

"Ya wan't git mi eating that clap trap end up with wild shites , ya would", Bert chunntered, ' t, new keeper o't keys, scramblin', oeer wax jackets and dog leads , for 'is seat in't corner ees 'ad for last twenty five years.


"I remember t' time when ya could get three courses for a fiver n still get change, good pub grub n all, Sunday Roast , now it’s all ordered on line, delivered from miles away", Bert still chunnterin on, "An it comes in plastic cartons, but it satisfies 'em, from't, smoke, thinks thas gettin', summat posh thee do, All micro waved lot of it, still thah nah's best ".

Mi mate Madge wah workin', behin't bar, good mate she is, bit on't common side, mutton n lamb, likes t' show err chest she do, spins chuddy round her gob, leek a washer on a short spin, still `art o gold she as, blokes leek her, can pick up a bloke faster than Janice Soprano on a geed nite,

Tell 'er owt, an all she dunn't , gi 'owt away, well not unless it’s worth gettin', fifty quid from't Take a Break mag, mind thi, she ain't, dun that since she left that Turkish bloke she met on't sands in Brid .

Wi darn'd ar usual quota, cah't, 'andle ni mah th'n 14 pints these days cah't, mi Bert, had a quick game o darts, put world t'reyts with Madge, whilst Bert wa', 'avin, a quick arm-wrestle wi 'ees old pal , Billy wobbly gob, {poor chap cah't find a dentist on NHS nah more struck off list he wah}

Then of wi staggered off home , ligged on't settee and watched me favorite film, Billy Liar, Grand it wah.