Column: Webby guz to doctors abaht a bleb on his finger

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Bumped inter ode Webby uther day. 
I were ormin on bench in King Street tab ‘angin’ an ay sat darn aside me.

Ay were all of a shek.

Tonns art aid just come from quacks an’ aze norra fan.

It were only abaht a bleb on his finger that were a bit keen burraze mardy at best o times.

Any road, while ay were there doctor gev im a gooin ovver.

Doctor toad im to tek his kecks and shimmy and pumps off and bend ovver.

Webby axed why and doctor sed aid dropped a quid an could Webby pick it up.

Now Webby int keen on Doctors at best o times.

It guzz back to when ‘e were a lad. 
Ay were scrumpin and got snided out wi’ woppits an’ ay got smothered in calamine lotion.

It were funny. 
Is ‘ole ‘ed were pink like that stuff yer get at wakes. 
I toad ‘im “serves you rate.
 You shudda come sticklebacking wi’ me and Peaty.”

Anyare, exam gets done and Webby says “Doctor, duzz tha think ale live to be eighty?”

Doctor looked at Webby an says “Duzz tha’ smoke?” “No.” Webby sed.

“Duzz tha’ drink?” “No,” Webby sed.

“Duzz tha’ tek drugs?” “No.”

“Duzz tha’ goo in for lotsa sex?” “No.”

“Then why duzz tha’ want to live t’ be eighty?”

By George Gunby