Twenty-seven minutes until four will never be the same to me since my Irish cousin came to town.
God, I thought you were going to talk about Hawai’ian pidgin. Imagine hearing your English teacher tell everyone, “Ok, now we going read page tirty-tree, ok?”
Does he put “fil-em” in the camera to take “pit-chers”?
It’s like that old Chicago hit, “Twenty-five or six or seven to 4.”
I’m a total sucker for the Irish accent, and have to admit that I rode an extra loop on the bus tour around Dublin just so I could keep listening to the bus driver.
“And on yer left ye’ve got Saint Padrick’s Cataydral and Dublinia. Dere’s free admission to bode a doze.”
My favorite was a TV ad for a county fair; the whole ad was done like those for monster truck rallies in the US, but with the guy screaming in an Irish accent instead of a southern one. At the end they flashed up the title “X3M FUNFAIR!”
… so these two Dubliners are walking down the street and they see a Help Wanted sign up, stating “Tree Fellers Wanted.”
The first says to the second, “Now if we only had a t’ird feller, we’d be set!”
Thank you, thank you, I’m here all week.
Try the chowder.
Just…