Behind The Wire #02
Wotcha mates. Fred Ferret's the name, quick wit and straight talkin' is me game. Nah then, wot abaht the old Queen Mum, eh? It didme 'eart a power o' good to see the ol' girl reach her 101st birthday this year. Blimey, that's abaht 25 in ferret years. An' at the time o' goin' to press, she's still alive an' kickin' like a good 'un. I reckon she's the sort to keep a few ferrets. Well, when you're born in the old ermine, as the sayin' goes, it's natural innit? I can just imagine 'er dahn in the ol' shed at the back of that Buckin'ham Palace. Cor, that must be some ferret court, eh? Geddit? Ha, ha.
We ferrets 'ave a lot to put up wiv. Take the other day. I was in me nestbox, mindin' me own business (that's another little ferret joke, mates), when I was scooped up an' taken off to the local ferret races. It's such a performance innit? They stuff yer 'ed down a great dark drain pipe and then expect yer to run to the other end like Linford Christie with his shorts on fire. I felt more like a loo brush jammed dahn the ol' karzey. Then, when I'd gasped me way to the end, they turns me round and makes me run back again. O' course, in me prime I could 'ave beaten all these youngsters, no trouble. But, now, the ol' legs aren't wot they was. So I was still makin' me way along the pipe when, suddenly, it tipped up. They were packin' it away on the truck and goin' home. Must 'ave put on a bit more weight than I thought.
Talkin' of spare tyres, wot abaht Kenneth Clarke? You'd fink you could get away from politics durin' the summer wouldn't yer? But, no. Ev'ry day we've ad the Conservative Party election on the news. Baldie Duncan Smith and old Beer Belly 'imself, goin' at it 'ammer and tongs about Europe. And did yer see Tony Blair playin' 'is guitar? It's not nat'ral is it? The Prime Minister of this country pretendin' to be a rocker! Can yer see Churchill playin' the guitar? Or Maggie Thatcher? Mind you, if all those bogus asylum seekers were made to listen to Tony strummin' away for 'alf an hour, they'd soon be 'eadin' off in the other direction.
Saturday, September 1, 2001. No one can forget it, eh? What a night for English football. Germany 1-England 5. I was in front of the box cheerin' the lads on. I reckon the World Cup's as good as won. Now we've got our brilliant, er, English manager Sven-Goran Ferretson in charge those, um, foreigners 'ad be'er wotch out in 2002. Mind you, I've read all abaht the team of 1966 y' know. Hobby Moore (not forgetting Hobby Styles and Hobby Charlton), Pine-Marten Peters, Badger Hunt, Geoff Fur-st, River Banks and the rest. And the one they left out - Jilly Greaves. Still, there's one fing that worries me abaht football. At the end o' the game they all go off dahn that big tunnel, and there's never any rabbits come out! Oh well, like the man said, they fink it's all over - it is now.
See yer next issue, mates.
(From Ferrets First - February/March 2002 - #04)