Friday, 20 July 2012
I knew as soon as I walked through the door from dropping the bairn off at school that I was ganna get some.
I peeped through the fist hole in the living room door and saw the half a roly burning away in the ashtray perched on the arm of me new Brighthouse corner settee. The telly was turned reet doon, ah cudn’t even hear what Lorraine was sayin aboot the new fashions for the summer or nowt. Then a saw him, and me heart skipped skipped a beat (just like that Ollie Murs). He’d obviously had a crisis loan and been owa the metty coz he was wearing a fresh new trakka bottoms and brand new pair of flossies, his rippling white chest peeped out from behind the zip of his supadry coat, that was sexily only zipped halfway up, just enough to cover the tac burns but give me a cheeky glimpse of what was to come.
He pulled me towards him and whispered “Y’all reet pet” before banging thethe lips on me, I trembled under the aroma of lambert n butler and stale fosters. He took me there and then, right on the Argos rug whilst our staffy Tyson looked on.
He left without a word, but he would return soon, with tales of a fight in the Jobcentre queue and his joy at finding a pound coin on the floor of the iceland. I tried to settle myself with a tab and a can but all the while that one question burned in my heart……..
Will he remember my pasty from Greggs?
Let me redress the balance of reinforcing regional stereotypes and direct you to yesterday's Woman's Hour which includes a feature about how a teacher is trying to encourage her female charges to break free from that Essex girl cliche. Be inspired by a woman who is truly making a difference!