Look, Ma! Americans! Yankee black and whiters, in all their pioneering glory! Don’t they look dapper and alluring! Hello. Howdy! How-de-do. What the cunning flip is it? How much does heavenly weigh, and what time is half an ounce of sixpence? You don’t know and now’s not the time anyways. Now, I’ve never been abroad before. In fact, Ma very rarely lets me leave my parish. But I have to say that I’m somewhat surprised how similar this place seems to home. Even the wallpaper’s the same! At least, on my side of the bed it is. Anyway, before you all start cussin’ me for saying “cuffing” instead of “cussin’”, and other words what constitute deeds of variation between our two languages, I would like you to know that I was invited here most expressedly by Mr Pettyfog, and from what I can make out, he’s pretty much head boy ‘round these parts. So, if I get your gander up, he’s the one to challenge to an arm-wrestle, not yours truly. Sometimes these words might constitute a right rum doolally to your way of thinking, and you might have to adjust to the fact that London life shoehorns in a whole different skedaddle from the one down stateside way. You have hot dogs, we have whole hogs. See? Then stir in the fact that I’m a bit dim in the wits department: Miss Wetherby (next-door-but-one) often says that I’ve got “hare-pie scramble for brains” on account of my mental wanderings. Ma says that modern-day medical eggheads call it “A.D.D.”, whatever recipe that might constitute. Anyway, Mr P. asked me, most politedly and pointedly, to share my messages with you and not hog them all for the locals back home. And what’s a few shiny nouns between friends, eh? So, hitch up your tufnells, purloin a few parsnips, kneel before Mr Harrods Al Fayed, and prepare for amazingment. It might not have much vinegar, but it’ll sure make your knees tingle. Especially when I orchestrate glorious victories for our beshorted heroes by virtue of these very words alone. I’ve done it before, and I shall do it again. Now, if no-one asks, you ain’t seen me, right. Flamin’ scallions and Up The Fulham!
Heh.. about time, and us furriners/colonials and exiled misfit convicts will give you due appreciation, I'm sure!
