Deal with that Bstard. Let the Fook Inn Lawyer onnit now!!

Pops slipped me the brass thrupennies from his savins buke, he'd sold the pig and more than iz arf of the manion by then. I rushed down to them Yuletide folks what's near the Piazza, the lernid ones. We gor a bloody Eternal Power of She can doo what she furkin wants, tell him my ducks tell him, him, that him. Bloody great cannon, like Waterloo, go on Welly, it's Yuletide & Suns not Bob Crachit you need me duck