...stop this madness now, or I'm coming round to kick your ****s in. Bexter, it's muder or the dancefloor, not murder on the dohns-floor. Coren, you want the answer, not the ohn-ser. Flanders, for ****'s sake get your own ****ing name right. It's Flanders, not Flohn-ders. That is all.
Part of the joy of banging Miss Coren (apart from seeing her huge half-hungarian tits swinging about) would be hearing her posh accent telling you to do deprived things to her (whilst also quoting Plato and reciting Poker probabilities) <****bank>
Up in the north we speak English properly. We have our breakfast, dinner and tea, then we have a nice relaxing bath, not a bawth.
Always the gent Erik, always the gent Posh It's them ****s who eat lunch then dinner and "take" a bawth that are posh.
Or that Yank trend that has taken on over here: "can I get a coffee?" (or cwoffee if you're in New York) No you ****ing can't, you can have one!
Hmmmm, get/have doesn't really bother me. Pronouncing schedule with a hard "c" like school - now that 's me.