I ain’t really gorra clue wot ta ri abow’, but ere goose an I’ll give it a try like. I cum from Brummigum up ‘ere in the Midlands an’ we’re always told we ‘av the worst accent in the UK. I dunno abourat, but we get mixed up wiv those geezers from the Black Country who talk nothin’ like us. Any road up, I purrup a post the other day abowra buz and they only cum in three’s.
It gorra lorra likes.
R kid moved away a few years agoo and he don’t talk like us anymore. He gorr himeslf taught and a proper job in an office like, workin’ for a big place that meks computers and stuff, you know what I mean? He gets a few quid and a bran’ new Ford Fiesta every year an’lives in a house that don’t belong to the council. His missus cums from down sowfe somewhere. Her’s orright too.
Them on abou’ gerring married next year, but her’s havin’ another babby so they might hang on until after the sprog’s dropped! I carn’t believe I’m gonna be an Uncle again, my missus keeps on about us havin’ more, burrits hard work wiv the three we got now, like. Any road up, the council ain’t gonna give us another house, so it’d be barmy.
I luv Sunday’s, me and me mates meet up the club dinner time, have a few bevvies then I have me roast dinner and a kip on the settee. A couple ov hours layta and we’re back in the club and on the lash again, you know what I mean like? Evry Sunday I say I’m only gonna have a few, bur I end up havin’ a skinful and a really bad head on Monday, like!
I down like writing like this much, but that’s wot they wanted as the Daily Post Prompt, non regional diction. I’m hoping yum’ll understand it, though I ain’t so sure, like.