Posts Tagged ‘Geordie humour’

In many respects the London Underground and the Tyneside Metro are very similar, but apart from their obvious disparity of scale and size there is one major difference which sets them apart. Ride the Metro and you will notice it immediately. It’s the passengers. They don’t all sit glumly in their seats staring into the void, reading a book, fiddling with an ipod or clutching at a strap their nose inches away from their next traveller’s armpit. And the journey is not made in complete silence. Complete strangers will smile in your direction or engage you in conversation. There’s a hum of gentle chatter, a burble of voices in the air from young and old alike.

“Cold day, are yers gannin’ shoppin’? I’m meetin’ ma friend Elsie doon the toon for lunch. She catches the bus from Heaton every Thursday. Been doing it a canny while now mind.”

I was about to reply when a louder, more strident voice, cut through the air.

“I don’t believe it. Would yers look who it is.”

A few folk checked their chatter and looked up.

“The guy I had breakfast with in Paris. Ee, man, what a night that was. I was knackered for days!”

The journey had become interesting and everyone now fell silent, heads turned, wondering who was speaking and to whom, waiting whilst the train rattled on. Everyone that is, except me.

Silently they watched as a tall, long haired lady wearing a short tweed jacket over a low cut black top threaded her way along the carriage,  stopped in front of Elsie’s good friend and plopped herself into my lap flinging her arms round my neck.

“It’s been a while, Pet. Howay, don’t look so shocked that I’ve found yers. Gie us a kiss, man.”

“Shazza,” I started to say.

“Least you’ve remembered my name.”

She then landed a smacker of a kiss, winked and whispered long and softly in my ear.

“Sorry, if I’m embarrassing you. But you’ve got to admit I’ve just given you something to write about. I’m dying to tell you what I’ve been up to and catch up with you too. It’s been too long. And I’ve got a writing project you might be interested in. Over lunch, it’s on me. Least I can do.”

“Shazz,” I started to say again.

“I know yers shocked, but yers repeatin’ yerself.”

“Shazz, I’m meeting someone on the quayside.”

“Bugga them, Pet. Yers coming with me, and this is our stop. Howay, shift yersen.”

Seconds later I was on the platform at Gateshead, arm in arm with Shazza watching the train slide past and aware of all the faces at the windows looking at us.

“That’ll give them something to talk about all the way to Monument. Shazz, you are naughty.”

She laughed. “Moi? Seriously, do you have time for lunch at the Baltic. Leastways you should be able to see your friend on the quayside from there!”

So if you’re reading this, Ged. That’s why I was late, mate!

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It was one of those typical northern Sundays. Early doors and I was sitting in the back garden under a patio brollie crunching a freshly fried black pudding and bacon butty smothered in tomato sauce. The kitchen was still filled with fumes and ‘er indoors wasn’t too happy. The rain was coming down in stair rods bouncing of the whippets frolicking in the mud whilst the homing pigeons huddled miserably in the lee of the shed cooing softly and wondering whether it was time to find a better home. I took another crunch out of my butty releasing more sauce to drip down my chin. My glasses began to mist up. Not that it made much difference; the rose tinted lenses weren’t working today and the rain got heavier. I was suddenly roused from my reverie by Booker T and the MG’s playing Soul Limbo. It was my mobile.

“Howay, man. Yer got yer arse in gear today yet, Pet?”

It was Shazza, my sweet talking Geordie pal.

“How’s would yer like it if I took yer to a higher level of pleasure and happiness today? Make yer scream and shout, beg for more and hope it never ends? And afterwards we can gan and sink a few bottles of dog?”

I didn’t have to think for long and tossed my butty into the middle of the muddy pool that was my lawn.

“Sure, Shaz, when?”

“No time like the present, Honeyballs. Grab yer coat and meet us outside St James. I got two tickets for today’s game against Sunderland. Be a riot, Pet.”

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