A Story in Slang – and win a prize!

This week Mr Slang has teamed up with quiz-master Brit Snr (the editor’s Dad, no less) to give you the chance to win a copy of his splendid big fat red Chambers Slang Dictionary…

I have been dabbling for twelve months now. There or thereabouts. Many posts, many words, many slang words. The time has come for payback. The challenge: a quiz of fiendish complexity (well, parts of it defeated me). It comes in the form of a monologue in various forms of slang. It is not of my composition, but that of the peerless Brit Sr. against whom many of you have already pitted their wits. The aim, no surprises here I am sure, is to offer a translation of the following story. I would say that all the words have been used in posts, but that ain’t so. But they can be found, and the story pieced together.

A word-for-word ‘translation’ is not expected; a pertinent précis will do, but the more text that is offered the better your chance of success. Should accuracy prove beyond reasonable expectation, I’ll also consider entertainment value.

Post your translation in the comments or, if you’re shy, email to editorial@thedabbler.co.uk  by next Thursday.

The prize is a copy of my Chambers Slang Dictionary. All the usual caveats and provisos apply and this being slang, all bribes, sexual favours and other inducements will be favourably considered. Failing those, may the best Dabbler win.

‘In the balloon car of the pothouse’…

A Slang Story by Brit Snr

There I am, in the balloon car of the pothouse, nursing a wallop and eyeing a well-advertised hornbag, when in mopes Willie the Dip, former cutpurse. Before, he was a bomb-head, but now he looks all Sad Sack, snaky- bony and real mangy. Anyway, I get him a tenip and a young and frisky and require of him his doings.

“Well,” says he, “my life been a mommux all right. I set up this three balls biz, but I was a bit of a gagger on the side, you know. Worse luck, one o’ of me punters was a fizgig. Next I knowed, Uncle Nabs ‘as me in a goldfish bowl for a little jaw. Sad to say, the buzzimag is kosher, so I get dropped in the bucket, right? Buzzkill it were, in rumbo. I ‘ad to sport fish roll, an’ I was in with sharks, Jimmy Sangsters, nummers….skrunty types all, most on ‘onch, lots totally abram. They give you the stink-eye and ‘ang a shanty on you for nada. I jus’ stayed shrumpy. Couthed up, I were, an’ took the gaff.

An’ the gooby, Man, it were gross. Gunky red ‘orse, gamy red mike an’ cold thousands. But one little boy blue, this grundiguts walrus, took a schmear OK so I got consumption sticks and some red ‘eart. Comin’ down the ‘ill’ I got a better seg wiv a skinner, ‘e were just a dromedary in for an ‘oliday.

When I got out me biz were gone, so I were a cadaver, Man. No spon for Burton, even. So I been on the charlie. When I get mazoo I fill me tank, crack some suds or fire the bird. I got me an iron gentleman an’ a piece an’ I do a bit o’ drumming with me yaga, but I don’t really trust ‘im. If the busies done us a stingo, he’d come it strong as a horse, surely.

So, you got a ten for a bottle o’ henry berry, China?”

Well, this Willie was always a yarn chopper, but this time I weened him true, totally. I am fully escamado, specially re the gat. I go oopizootics and hand him a pony and my tick-tock. Then I gave it the toes.

He’s pinched that same night, I hear. Totally Brahms and Liszt and waving his roscoe in a creepjoint. Some marra, eh?

image ©Gabriel Green
You can buy Green’s Dictionary of Slang, as well as Jonathon’s more slimline Chambers Slang Dictionary, plus other entertaining works, at his Amazon page. Jonathon also blogs and Tweets.
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About Author Profile: Jonathon Green

Jonathon 'Mr Slang' Green is the world's leading lexicographer of English slang. You can buy Green's Dictionary of Slang, as well as Jonathon's more slimline Chambers Slang Dictionary, plus other entertaining works, at his Amazon page. Jonathon also blogs and Tweets.

5 thoughts on “A Story in Slang – and win a prize!

  1. Worm
    January 26, 2012 at 15:13

    You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar when I met you. I picked you out, I shook you up and turned you around, turned you into someone new.

    Don’t, don’t you want me? You know I can’t believe it when I hear that you won’t see me. Don’t, don’t you want me? You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t need me. It’s much too late to find you think you’ve changed your mind you’d better change it back or we will both be sorry.Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me, ohh? Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me, ohh?

  2. johngjobling@googlemail.com'
    malty
    January 26, 2012 at 15:32

    Would it be possible to supply subtitles for this quiz.
    Otherwise….

    Hey Joe, where you goin’ with that gun of your hand
    Hey Joe, I said where you goin’ with that gun in your hand, oh
    I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady
    You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
    Yeah, I’m goin’ down to shoot my old lady
    You know I caught her messin’ ’round with another man
    Huh! and that ain’t cool
    Huh hey hoe, I heard you shot your mamma down
    You shot her down now

    Hey Joe, I heard you shot your lady down
    You shot her down in the ground yeah!
    Yeah!

  3. antonyward54@yahoo.com'
    antony ward
    January 27, 2012 at 22:08

    Dunno but it reminds me of an old Minder episode.

  4. tanith@telegraphy.co.uk'
    Adelephant
    January 30, 2012 at 12:41

    Ok – here’s my attempt. Some bits still stump me, so there is plenty of room for improvement:

    There I was, in the saloon bar of the pub, nursing a beer and eyeing a very attractive lady, when in slinks Willie the Dip (Pickpocket), a former pickpocket. Before, he was a big-head but now he looks like a sad loner, skinny and really shabby. Anyway, I buy him a pint and a whisky and ask him what he’s up to.

    “Well,” he says “my life’s been messed up all right. I set up a pawn brokers business, but I was fencing stolen goods on the side, you know. Unfortunately, one of my customers was a police informer. Next thing I know, a policeman has me in a cell because he’s turned me in. Sad to say, the information is genuine, so I get thrown into prison. It really brought me down, massively. I had to wear prison clothes and I was in with loan sharks, gangsters, murderers, all horrible types, most heroin addicts, lots total scoundrels. They give you a dirty look and throw a punch at you for nothing. I just stayed quiet. I kept myself to myself and put up with it.

    And the food was disgusting. Sludgy sauce and disgusting corned beef and cold beans. But one officer, a huge fat guy, took a bribe and I got cigarettes and some rum. Towards the end I had a better time sharing a cell with a drunk who was just in for a short spell for petty thieving.

    When I got out I’d lost my business, so I was dead broke. I had no money for a beer even. So I went on the dole. When I get money I fill my stomach, drink some beer or whisky. I’ve got a crowbar and a gun and I do a bit of house burglary with my partner, but I don’t really trust him. If we got caught by the police he’d turn King’s evidence (turn me in) for sure.

    “So, have you got a tenner for a bottle of sherry, mate?”

    Well, this Willie was always a bit of a storyteller, but I thought he was telling the truth this time. I was totally scared especially about the gun. In a fit of craziness I hand him £25 and my watch. Then I quickly left.

    He was arrested that same night, I hear. Totally drunk and waving his revolver in a gambling house (brothel?). Some mate, eh?

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