Here’s my entry for July’s Blog Battle contest. I said to one of my blogging friends a while ago that I could write a whole story in Cockney rhyming slang – and so here it is!
WALTER’S HOSPITAL STAY
I’ve been laid up with me chalfonts and I’ve had a lovely kip, but the jollop’s wearing off now I’m stable. I tried not to ‘ave a tin barf when the doc came round and had a butcher’s up there. Gawd – didn’t he want to be a train driver when he was a saucepan lid?
It’s like a pox doctor’s waiting room in here; everyone’s got a long face. I try and talk to the bubble in the bed opposite, but it’s like flogging a dead ‘orse. He hasn’t got many hampsteads, but he has huge plates of meat – must be size 12 or more. I think he’s wearing a syrup. The raspberry in the corner ended up brown bread in the night. I wonder when it’s my hopping pot?
All I want is some mungy – anything’ll do; taters, or saveloy and pease pudding. I couldn’t ‘arf go a bundle on a big plate of pie and mash – me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut. Nurse says it’s too soon after the old Mickey Finn.
The trouble and strife will be in at visiting time, and I might get a cup of char by then. Someone brought round the me and you earlier on, but I didn’t get a chance to fill it in before I was out of me noddle.
I’m a bit peezy on me pins when I get up, and the bubble looks a bit worried. I may be 82, but I’ve never been Tom Dick in me life. I give him a wave and he says something, but as I’m a bit mutton I just nod. He comes over and walks me to the khasi, but I would have gone on me Jack Jones. Nice chap. I ask him what he’s in for, and he points to his bottle; he’s had his chalfonts done – just like me!
He’s me old china by the time the trouble and strife comes in. I haven’t had time for a Chas and Dave, but she doesn’t care. She’s cream crackered after having to run up the frog for the bus. She brings in a cotchel of Ruby Murray, and I give some to the bubble. Nurse tells us off, but the old ruby never tasted so good.
Doc comes back and says I can go home. All in all, it ain’t been so bad after all. Mind you, the bottle’s a bit sore – perhaps I shouldn’t have had that Ruby Murray…