Sunday, April 11, 2010

Bawdy afternoon

Another lovely day on the famously named avenue, you could almost make out the sun from the thick London Fog. Two Ladies of Ill-Repute stood at the corner, on Cobblepot, announcing their wares to all the passerbyes.
"Another luvly day in the East end, eh." remarked Janie, straightening her frock.
"Innit." said Ann, less enthused.
"Care for a dance, luv?" called Janie, pursing her lips at a university boy, who blushed and walked on. "Bloody pasty-faced gits." She turned to her friend "Whot's in you, then luv? Y'got a bit of the frown-- Fancy a bit of the lovely stuff, guv? Pah!"
"S'the problem, nothin's in me, no-one's in me. Nobody's buyin'."
Janie looked over at her. "Everybody buys, luv. London was built on love, but it did well in that they made a business of it. This-- s'a patriotic duty, innit."
"Naw. S'a country because we got all them darkie countries overseas. Funny types, they are."
"Ooooh, eh. Should 'ave seen this one chap the other day. Skin black as the ace of spades. Took Marie for a poke down by Carriageside, said 'ee 'ad a pant-stick the size of an arm. Bloody sailors are bad enough in their appetites, doesn't 'elp that they've got a walkingstick tackle."
Ann shivered. "Hell. I'll take the tinies from Whitechapel any day over that. No need for a week's funny-walkin' for a few pence."
"Bawdy and bob-tail for the young gentleman?" called Janie, again with no success.
"Slow day, ladies?"
The pair turned, finding themselves in the company of the wag Keating.
"Bloody 'ell."
"Oh come now. S'lovely an afternoon." said Keating.
"'Lovely' don't make a penny-dripper of an afternoon. All these university dandies, none of them fancy a fine quim like ours?" asked Ann ."Even a Corinthian fellow like yourself don't feel the itch for it."
"Aye, bloody right. Bloody book-types fawning over the latest monkey bits that they forget the fairer sex. Must be all busy tossing off over an ape-thing."
Keating grinned. "Oh come off it. Not only is old Egypt back in 'er Majesty's hands, but lovely Mr. Darwin, rest 'is soul, has given us the truth of our nature. Surely everyone from the House of Lords to the laced muffins of Gropecunt Lane can see the value of it."
"Well, you tell that Mr. D that perhaps 'ee was a monkey's son, but I'll stick by Old Adam."
"You'll see, you'll see. Took a while for the Italian fellow to tell the Earth from the Sun, poor sod." He doffed his hat to the two. "Give my best to the grinders, ladies, and have yourselves a lovely 'after."
"Cheeky sort." muttered Ann.
"Limp, morelike. Thought it was a buy for sure." said Janie.
"Should've said your grand grandfer was a lemur. Would've got his bones up."
"That'll be the day!" laughed Janie. "That'd be the day."

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