Can’t understand a good portion of my older family when they get into full-tilt. It’s a particularly staccato and hushed-whispered Southern Black Country dire-lickt!
‘Gooin owt the wikken’ amya?’
‘Ahr, eye-amm-ahr. Am yow?‘
‘Ahr, probley, ahr.’
‘(silence, except for sound of sister singing upstairs)
(Laughing) ‘Thet yower Janet?’
‘Ahr tiz, ahr’
‘Oo’ser think er iz?…Byonsaay?’
‘Kinell ahr, dow tho, y’oll mek us loff, an ‘er ‘ates me loffin, ‘er gets a right bag on’
‘I ay surproized, er sounds loike a god glaed stuck under a god dower!’
transl:
‘Going out at the weekend, are you?’
‘Yes, I am. Yes. Are you?‘
‘Yes, probably, yes.’
‘(silence, except for sound of sister singing upstairs)
(Laughing) ‘Is that your Janet?’
‘Yes, it is’
‘Who does she think she is? Beyoncé?
‘**** hell yes! Don’t tho, you’ll make me laugh, and she hates me laughing, she gets a right bag on’
‘I’m not surprised, she sounds like a god (curse) gleed* stuck under a god (curse) door!’
*small piece of coal (when stuck underneath a door it can squeal across floor-tiles)