''Trace.  Trace!  TRACE!  Where are ya, ya slag?''

''Old up, old up!''  I'm avin a fag aht the back, Kev.''

''Get in ere.  Want me dinnah, dun I?''

''Ere Kev.  You look like deff.''

''Fanks.  You don't look so gawjus yerself mate.  Wot's that air on yer ands?  Ere, old up, it's on yer cheeks an all.''

''I felt a bit funny, innit?  Got down on me ands and knees an when I got up I were all covered in this fick air.  It's on me back an all.  Bleedin' ell.  I ain't got enuff dosh to go dahn the waxin' place or nuffin.  Me dole money ain't due till next Toosdy.''

''Bloody ell mate, they ain't gunna let you in the post office lookin like that.  Someone'll call the filth and ave you carted off dahn the nick.''

''Awww Kev, cummere!''

''Ang abaht.... Just avin a drink aht the cat...  Awright.  Wot?''

''Dunt that moon look gawjus?  All big and round, innit!''

RATE THIS CHAPTER!