The Yorkshire Manifesto.

Speyk Reyt thah nah's.

Eh bah gum, tha's one thing tha ger's reyt up mi nose, it's folk frem t' south reckon'in tha thi cahn't understand owt I sey. Kettle callin' pan black' methinks. I'm Yorkshire born an bred tha nah's an proud of it.

Thi move fren t'smoke buyin' up arr 'ouses and think thi nah it'all. Well ler mi tell ya summat-tha' all sound's like Ray Winstone ti me luv, or Kathy bloom' Burke so gerr over thissen. And If ya dahn't like way we speyk in God's own country then pack thissen back t' smoke wit Jamaycans where thi belon'. Can ya Adam n Eve it!

All sound like bloody rappers thi do nah frem't smoke...bad uns at that. Thi needs to lissen ti' thissen. Hurts thi lugoiles thah do. Anyhow I'm frem t' North n proud of it. An while wi' r on't subject its BATH not bloomin' BARTH..........Sort it owt ya daft ayepaths!

I'm Yorkshire Born n bread

Stron in't arm

but nah' moore

Am I weak

in't' 'ead.

Aye thah love's thi grub.

'Oss & Farrier- will be in there shortly.

Daft stuff Folk do in Yorkshire

A couple of things you need to know in Yorkshire if visiting' t Doctor or 't Chemist

Thah's one good thing abaht livin' in God's own country-and that is everyon is as mad as a box o' frogs. Mi an arr Bert wah walking around tahn and came across some signs plastered all oeer t' walls-I rest mi case as Judge Joody would sey!

Nah I know folk round 'ere arr a bit dense but a bloody wall?


Then thah's this one.

This is where mi best mate Norma lives-salt o' thi earth shi is-but slack well shi cahn't 'elp it-shi wor a deprived child.

An this wor on't door of Oss n Farrier-come on gerr your keks on-wi need some ale!

Yorkshire Day

Yorkshire Day.

New 'Arr cut.

Time I 'ad mi Arr cut, after them dahnsizers, kept staring at mi barnett like I wor Ken Dodds love bairn or summat!

So I though't i'd ave a word w it' arr dresser dahn at Jane Hair's-Bloody Jane Hair's meks me laff-The bloody Bronte woman only came to t' village once, nah thah's bloody shops all over t' place wi' Bronte name on-evn't bloody travel agent t's called Wuthering Flights-stupid 'ts all got nah.

Anyhow back to mi arr- need t' change t' style annall-a restyle-a 'bit like them folk frem t' south av their arr like, flared aht' at sides -some of 'em ' ave ther arr two colours-thought we'd ad an influx o' badgers wen I fast saw 'em-peed misenn laffin' I did.

Anyhow, I took plunge and went to Jane 'Arrs- a young lass it wor weshed mi arr an covered it in't conditioner smelt grand annall,  Nice lass she'd sin me in't 'oss n farrier' on a Friday nite. Laffed she did dernt nah why.

'Arr you 'avin' a do' she asked as she shuvved mi' ed upside dahn-nearly swall'd mi knashers she 'ad 'ands like bloody shovells. Started to blah dry mi arr she did runnin' her fingers through mi arr wit' force of an 'amster on rollerskates. Well wen shi finally let me av a luk- well she must 'av sin luk on mi face'

' I'll brush it a aht-mek it stick aht a bit better.'

Nah word of a lie it wor stuk out like that bloody Kanye bloke's missus's arse!

'Dah't worry,' she sed-'I'll be alreet-I'll pur rollers on'

So she stuck pur rollers in mi arr, an 'arr-net on mi 'ed n stuck mi under t' drier.

' Do yer look like a magazine' she holled' ' or shall I mek a brew'

Wor is it wi 'arr dressers why do they wait t'll you cahn't hear 'em before they talk to you?

Alfway thru reading abaht some shite in tek a break, mi 'ed started to burn, thort id best shout.

' It's too bloody wahrm under 'ere' tryin' to move bloody space-invader machine frem off mi 'ed.

'Can you cum n turn it dahn!'- no response- talking to one of them posh folk frem up't hill-sahned like she'd swalled a gob full of peppledash.

Nowt 'appened, hotter n hotter i wor gerrin' till lass came and gawped at mi.

'Yer almost done nah 'she sed'

'almost done,' she said

'I thowt ad' set on't fire- thawt you wah mekin a re run o't Jacko in't Pepsi advert.'

She took no notice, just blah dried mi arr aht a bit more,

'Stop faffin abhat will ya,' I said, losin' mi' patience.

'Der you want some lacquer on it' as she reached for t' bottle anyhow, a bottle o t' lacquer the size of an exocet bloody missile.

Mi 'edd wah soar wi all 'fussin, as I lukked in't mirror -

Nah bloody wahnder, they called it Jane Arr's I lukked like I'd just bin dragged frem a wutherin' height. Or a badgers back side.

Wor a waste o money mi arr lukked better  afoar I started.