A very dear old friend and I have had a long, on-going debate about whose home town is the most depressing: his or mine. He is from Luton and I like to point out that at least Luton has an airport so that you can escape somewhere far away and exotic. My home town has the number 82 bus to West Bromwich or the number 87 to Dudley in one direction or to Birmingham in the other, depending on whether you want to see animals in the zoo or animals drunk and falling over curb stones. However, I think my friend may just have won the argument hands down by sending me the following extract from a deeply depressing discussion that occurred during a recent visit to his mum (who is absolutely lovely, by the way...as is a lot of Birmingham...actually)
Step Dad: You wouldn't like Luton today. What do you think of it?
Son: Thinks he knows what's coming,tries to divert conversation: I wouldn't know, I only travelled through.
Step Dad (looking hot): Its all bloody WOGS.
Mum, quietly: Love, you can't ...Love...
Step Dad, warming to his subject: No, I speak my mind: WOGS. We had one at the door the other day. Terrorists! (which is his new word for them)
Mum to Son, desperate: If you invite them in do you think they take their shoes off, or is that only in one of them Muslim houses?
Step Dad: Terrorists you mean....
2 comments:
LOL love your take on the animals in both directions
And I actually had to look up the word wog...
LOL I almost fell of my chair laughing! I grew up in Essex home of cheap girls in short skirts and big earrings (guilty on all fronts I'm afraid)and I recently spent a year in Newcastle where I couldn't understand a bloody word they were saying half the time probably because I cherished the illusion of a common language, silly me!! But honestly Luton, its just too depressing to even consider!
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