It's Oscars time. Somebody wake the Grouch.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

'ere mate, 'ave a look at our bloomin' site

For some of you in the London area, tired of the formality of our prose, I have discovered a site for you. (Warning, there is a bit of unfortunate language.) The actual application at work here can also be tuned to the following "dialects":

Here's the song lyrics I posted last night in "Cockney" (and yes I know "Bobbies" [or "Bobbys"] is way out of vogue with some, so please don't write, both of you.):

Rita (Sung ter "Roxanne" by the bloomin'
Bobbies)

Ri-ta
Yer don't 'ave ter hammer the ***ffin' rail spike
Them ways are over
Yer don't 'ave ter sweat in yor cave all night

Ri-ta
Yer don't 'ave ter wear that apron tight
Work that steel for brass
Yer don't care if it's armor for a knight

Ri-ta
Yer don't 'ave ter work by the firelight

I luvd yer since I met yer
I came by ter order 'orseshoes
I 'ave ter say fough yor an 'eartless schlemiel
I won't share yer wiv anuvver goy
I know yor smifink's Charo
(Is yor last name Moreno?)
And fough yor eyebrows will grow hammer and tack again
It's a bad way

Ri-ta
Yer don't 'ave ter hammer the rail spike
Ri-ta
Yer don't 'ave ter hammer the bloody rail spike



A few of the selections might offend some (Redneck, Jive, Moron). Honestly though, my favorite rendition of our site was this one, you scwewy wabbit!

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