When Little Lucinda Belinda By ‘Eck Bananas* was borned, her stewid Dad creaked, “Doorknobs, Betty, our bairn’s not hardly got any teeth in her face at all. Now, what am you made of that, eh?”
She blamed him family full square and no mistake. “Your Ma’s a toothless old second-hand sofa, Steve. It’s all your flat our daughter has faulty jeans!” And so slaying, Betty wept the titter beers of a gret.
“Shut up, you!” said a person. “One day she am have a bairn of her own, and what then, eh?” They all stood in silent conflagration at this thoughts.
“Not now she won’t,” said Granpa, as he threw the baby out of the window. “We don’t want your sort round here.” And they all cheered loudly, but not before.