A Wink and a Bit o' French

SITE p80

The trouble with my friend Susie is that once she gits a notion in her head she has to go threw with that, come hell or holy water. My friend Susie's got cockney blood that dew go back to the ole Kent Rud, so I spuz tharts wot accounts for it. Anyway she decided that us Suffolk girls had gart t' stop traili`n arownd in wellinton boots and be a bit glamruss for a change.
So she gits howd of six on us and tells us t'leave the littluns wi the old man of an evening for tew months woile she dew turn us into Can-Can dancers.
Can-Can dancers indeed! More loike cripples we wuz by the toime she's done wi us. I mean when she say we had to get fit by exercises an' the loike, sose we cud git our legs up, well I thort she meant loike the anti-natal class I went tow up Narridge, we my fust wahn. But my friend Susie hent a bit like thart nice Eileen Fowler on tele, wot says yew can hev a chair t'howld on tew.
Thar we ware wi' our hells behoind our heads an' not ayble to wash the kitchen floor naw hoe a row nex day. My ole man took a dim vew, wot wi' missin' his point of a noite, an' me comin' home an' goin' fass off a' soon as my head dew touch the pillow...
That war only the thort of me wearin' wahn of them frilly spender belts whurst starped him from puttin' his foot down. He's bin a runnin' on for years abowt hoe them noice warm toights hent the same. Pashun killers he call `em.
Anyhowup, as toime went by and we wuz learnin' how them folly barejares guz abowt it we started tew enjoy ourselves a bit, an' even missed the young Wives' Social `cos we wuz so busy practicin' and sewin our frocks.
Thart Susie's a wahn, She guz tearin' off to Lundun buyin' up satin `n' lace, `n' getting us to goo owt and buy brassierres thart' d hitch us up roite hoiy.
Then kern Bungay May Fare `n' wot a t'dew it war, all them folk a clamorin' and hoolin' t' see it. Thow my old Dard, bein' strick chapel wouldn't leave the beer tent t' come see. Mutterin' `n' putterin' he war abowt how he ullus noo the Carmen Market warm n' good.
Well we went up thar an dun jus wart my friend Susie had showed us, exact. My old man was a beamin' real prowd `n' reckond on we wuz as good as them that T.V. Tarpers wot yewsed t' to be his favourites. So I'm keepin' him remoinded. When he comes in for his tea I give him a wink `n' a bit of French - "Bonjour, bor", I sez.