For some reason, the English people like to speak in code. I’m not sure they even understand each other half the time. To pay homage to our wonderful adventures in England, I’ve written this post in what I think might be British English Slang.
The Day I Was English! We were in Salisbury, attending a traditional English wedding. The ceremony was held at an old church, surrounded by a village of thatched houses. The reception followed soon after, on the lawn of a grand manor house, where guests enjoyed cucumber sandwiches and a cuppa. Utterly British! It was the Dog’s Bollocks.
In the photos, I’m the fancy lad, posing knee bent, resting my right arm on the door of the motor. This pose had to be at the direction of the bloke taking the photos because I can honestly say I’ve never stood like such a wanker in my entire life. Utterly British!
That chap I’m taking the piss with is my mate Steve. We’re not benders, just a couple of likely lads dressing like the Dogs Dinner. The woman in the flowerly dress, on the other side of the motor, is my future trouble and strife, Michèle. Utterly British!
After a bit of knees up at the reception, my bird and I headed back to London in a saloon with a friendly bloke and his pull. The motorway was cleared of bottles and glass so we zoomed right home.
When Michèle and I arrived back at the flat, I told her John Thomas was hoping to stop by to ask her how her father was. She was open to a quick visit. Utterly British!
John left us knackered and chaffed. We each spent a penny and headed off to Bedfordshire.
And Bob’s your uncle!
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