60 Glorious Yors...

Ahve had a luk at the numbahs and a can see that a canny few o yuz read me words that me 'Ghost Writer' Nackaz Mabley typed into the computa telly. Well, as lang as yees read thum then aal keep taakin aboot stuff.  Nowt heavy or nowt, nowt that ganna change the whorld. Ahm not that clivvor for a staart-off.

Wotchin the news and readin the pyeppas yu cannit help but notice that its cummin up to the Queens Jubilee. Sixty yors shus been Queen for. Seen off loads of them Prime Ministers, shu has. Chorchill and Thatcha and the rest, and shus still gannin strang. Bluddy marvelus, shu is.

Now a knaa a lorruvyus divven't like the Royal Family.

'They are out of touch with the ordinary people' yuz say.

'They've never done a days work in thee lives' sez uthas.

In one way ah can see wat yuz mean. Yu can bet the Queens nivvor had tu run oot tu the shops at sivven acloclk at neet for a loafabreed an two oonces o' boiled ham cos shud forgot tu put Phillip's bait up, an e was on orlies at Brighams next mornin.

But luk at it the utha way. Even when shu got yem of a neet and kicked a shoes off and hung a croon up, shu was still the Queen. Nae days off, nae pullin a sickie, nae gannin doon the bingo for couple o hooses and the late link-up. Nah, ivvery oor of ivvery day shus the Queen. For that a think shu desorves a bit of respect.

Noo, a bairns on the utha hand...