“Don’t get down to the pub much these days. Well it’s me joints, see? So’s, I get mine at the off license top of the High Street. Wotz that? I’m a bit hard of hearing. Wot? Oh, gin of course. What else would a lady drink!
Luckily, it’s me dog wot let’s me get out and abouts. Tiny thing, all fluff and no stuffing. Trouble is you’ve always gotta scoop the poop with that thing. That’s the law. Anyways, if it don’t poop I got a plastic bag for me shopping.
Wot? Who? Wot you wanna talk about Foxy for?”