Post by pete on Oct 11, 2012 17:16:06 GMT -5
Barry Jones: In th' bin, mate! Ah found it in th' rubbish bin!
Barry Jones[/b] presses the phone to his ear, covering his other one with a finger in order to overcome the reception problems inherent to an overseas call. Apparently faced with interference, he repeats, louder this time:
Barry Jones: In the BIN! The rubbish bin! Wha'...? No, ah ent takin' the piss, mate! I'm tellin' ya! Wha'...? No, ah didn' bloody STEAL it, Mick! F'r fooksakes! I'm tellin' yez I found it in th' blimmin' bin!
The cockney brawler pauses a moment to listen to his interloper before continuing:
Barry Jones: Raht...so I'm walkin' in th' back, yeh? Just mindin' me own business, leyke...tryin' ta figger out where th' bar is, if there's any fit birds 'round, tha' sort a' rubbish. Bu' 'en when ah looks ta mah left, yeh? Ah look ta mah left an' this bloody thing is stickin' outter th' bin, raht? An' at first ah think it's just a rubbish one, one a' them kids' ones, ya 'no'? Bu' 'en...get this, Mickstah, it's a laff, it is...raht, so just as ah'm about ta hand this in ta som'body...leyke f'r th' lost an' found or summat...th' boss walks by, raht? An' guess wha' th' wally tells me? Tells me ah'm 'oldin' the bloomin' WBSW 'Ardcore Championship!
The dockworker chortles, seemingly getting the desired reaction from the person at the other end. Then, once the chuckles have subsided, he continues:
Barry Jones: An' get this, mate...'e tells me...'e tells me ah'm th' Champi'n! Without 'avin' ta do fook all!
The two men once again share a laugh, before Barry[/b] goes on:
Barry Jones: So, yeh...me very firs' match, an' it's a bloomin' teytle match!
There is another pause, as the Brit's interloper apparently asks a question. which Barry[/b] promptly answers:
Barry Jones: Lad named Stryker...think 'e was on ACW...might'a been anothah bloke tough...them lot all 'ave similar names, leyke!
He pauses again, then hunches over, trying to hear:
Barry Jones: Wha'...?! Yeh're breakin' up, mate!
The person at the other end repeats the question, and the dockworker chortles again:
Barry Jones: Shoore ah can beat 'im...ah woz gettin' inter poob fahts when 'e was jus' a laddie in diapahs!
Then, quickly changing the subject, he asks:
Barry Jones: Wo' 'bout yez, mate? When's ya comin' ter th' States f'r a visit?
He pauses to listen again, as Mick[/b] replies, then guffaws:
Barry Jones: Wi' Val, eh?! Ya clevah ol' buggah! Fair play! Well, if the two a' yez evah fancy comin' back...
The Londoner stops once again to listen to his friend, but his attention is suddenly diverted by an unexpected outside factor. Swiftly cutting across his interloper, he explains:
Barry Jones: Mick...ah luv yez, mate...bu' ah've go' ter go! Somethin' came up at this end...take care, yeh?
With this, and without even waiting for a reply, the barroom brawler hastily switches off his phone and takes off after the shapely pair of legs he just saw strutting by.
(OOC NOTE: Grammar mistakes in Barry's speech are intentional, and intended to convey his accent.)
Barry Jones[/b] presses the phone to his ear, covering his other one with a finger in order to overcome the reception problems inherent to an overseas call. Apparently faced with interference, he repeats, louder this time:
Barry Jones: In the BIN! The rubbish bin! Wha'...? No, ah ent takin' the piss, mate! I'm tellin' ya! Wha'...? No, ah didn' bloody STEAL it, Mick! F'r fooksakes! I'm tellin' yez I found it in th' blimmin' bin!
The cockney brawler pauses a moment to listen to his interloper before continuing:
Barry Jones: Raht...so I'm walkin' in th' back, yeh? Just mindin' me own business, leyke...tryin' ta figger out where th' bar is, if there's any fit birds 'round, tha' sort a' rubbish. Bu' 'en when ah looks ta mah left, yeh? Ah look ta mah left an' this bloody thing is stickin' outter th' bin, raht? An' at first ah think it's just a rubbish one, one a' them kids' ones, ya 'no'? Bu' 'en...get this, Mickstah, it's a laff, it is...raht, so just as ah'm about ta hand this in ta som'body...leyke f'r th' lost an' found or summat...th' boss walks by, raht? An' guess wha' th' wally tells me? Tells me ah'm 'oldin' the bloomin' WBSW 'Ardcore Championship!
The dockworker chortles, seemingly getting the desired reaction from the person at the other end. Then, once the chuckles have subsided, he continues:
Barry Jones: An' get this, mate...'e tells me...'e tells me ah'm th' Champi'n! Without 'avin' ta do fook all!
The two men once again share a laugh, before Barry[/b] goes on:
Barry Jones: So, yeh...me very firs' match, an' it's a bloomin' teytle match!
There is another pause, as the Brit's interloper apparently asks a question. which Barry[/b] promptly answers:
Barry Jones: Lad named Stryker...think 'e was on ACW...might'a been anothah bloke tough...them lot all 'ave similar names, leyke!
He pauses again, then hunches over, trying to hear:
Barry Jones: Wha'...?! Yeh're breakin' up, mate!
The person at the other end repeats the question, and the dockworker chortles again:
Barry Jones: Shoore ah can beat 'im...ah woz gettin' inter poob fahts when 'e was jus' a laddie in diapahs!
Then, quickly changing the subject, he asks:
Barry Jones: Wo' 'bout yez, mate? When's ya comin' ter th' States f'r a visit?
He pauses to listen again, as Mick[/b] replies, then guffaws:
Barry Jones: Wi' Val, eh?! Ya clevah ol' buggah! Fair play! Well, if the two a' yez evah fancy comin' back...
The Londoner stops once again to listen to his friend, but his attention is suddenly diverted by an unexpected outside factor. Swiftly cutting across his interloper, he explains:
Barry Jones: Mick...ah luv yez, mate...bu' ah've go' ter go! Somethin' came up at this end...take care, yeh?
With this, and without even waiting for a reply, the barroom brawler hastily switches off his phone and takes off after the shapely pair of legs he just saw strutting by.
(OOC NOTE: Grammar mistakes in Barry's speech are intentional, and intended to convey his accent.)