Thursday, 7 May 2015

Krayfish by Grant Harbison

“Cor blimey, them oysters are slimy, and that cod is a little odd,” cried little Mo Barrow, the Cockney sparrow.
“Come on, luv,” protested Bash the Slash. “It’s quality stuff I got from the guv.”   
“Not another present from them bleedin’ Krays. All you do is sing their praise.”
“Ain’t many blokes like that in this day and age. They’re real smart geezers and pay me wage.”
“Yeah, and I’m 'er indoors, the stupid bleedin’ wife, with an 'usband that goes to work with a Stanley knife.”
“Oh stop bleedin’ moanin’, my trouble an’ strife. All I’m tryin’ to do is give us a life.”  
“Yeah, one behind bars, and they’ll still have their clubs and their fancy cars.”
“Someone 'as to do it, do them jobs. Someone 'as to be tough and sort out them yobs.”
“Just dirty work that both of them shirk. If they’re the big bad brothers, 'ow come they still cower in front of mother?”

No comments:

Post a Comment