London here I Come...

This weekend I am off to the Big Smoke, Going Up Town, Going to See the Bright Lights, yes I orf to Laaaden. The home of our Queen, bless her and her corgi’s, Parliament, that House of Commoners, and that ole man ribber the Thames.

I’m so excited I don’t know what to wear. Should I wear my Pearly Kings suit, my Beefeater Uniform or be a bit casual in me chimney sweeps outfit al la Dick Van Dyke? Cor Blimey Guv I’m all ov a quiver! I don’t want to look too much like a tourist, you know the local yokel up on a jolly. I want to blend in with them Cockanees. Maybe a sharp black suit like in Lock Stock sorta like gangsta stylee.

I bet I’ll see loads of stars there, probably have a drink or two wiv Babs Windsor in some gaff of a boozer in the East End, full ov faces and rozzers eying each other up. I’ll probably have to buy some hookey gear while I’m there, I’m hoping for a knocked off ipod or two, they’ll be hot as a sausage but as cheap as chips. Crikey I’m up for a good time.

Maybe take a stroll down Soho to av a quick butchers at the Tarts and maybe a quick look in to one of them shows, you know the ones, the guys are always beckoning you in, they say it’s really cheap too! That’ll be fine, go in for a pint or two and flash me mince pies over the tottie. Bargain! Then I’m sure the security guys on the door will point me in the right direction, they’ll all be diamond geezers!

Maybe I’ll go to Leicester square there’s bound to be a film premiere going on, we can get a couple of tickets and hobnob with all the stars and then off to some flash restaurant in a taxi, but mind you I don’t want none of them pepperami taking my photo’s, I don’t want to see my wife’s gusset on the front page of the Sun tomorrow morning. Caaants!

I’m not to sure what I’ll get to eat, as you know I’m a vegetarian and all them cockanees eat Jellied eels and stuff, pies and mash wiv gravy, bangers and mash like me muvver used to make. I gotta have something that’s pukka yah nah what I mean like. None of that fast food crap, its gotta be good British food, like a nice Ruby Murrey, hot as fuck with poppadoms. Great scran cos I’m sure I’ll be Hank Marvin by the time I’ve seen some of the sights.

Then I’m sure my wife will go bargain hunting down Oxford St. I’ve been there before so I’ll probably buy her some perfume from the guys that sell it out of suitcases, they always seem a bit twitchy but they guarantee it’s the real stuff and it’s like half the price, I’m sure the trouble and strife’ll be happy with it . I’ve heard that there’s some great clothes shops there, I could do with a new whistle. I’m told there’s a great shop called Byrite which carries class gear, I have heard though that Carnaby Street has gone down hill a little bit.

I’ve been practising a few songs for the evening singsong in the boozer, just some tradition London cockanee songs like ‘Gotta pick a pocket or two’, ‘Chimchimminey’,’ Maybe its because I’m a Londerner’ and ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’. I’ve heard that the cockanee is a happy soul, poor, but always has a cheery word and a whistle for his fellow traveller. Most of them drive taxi’s, appear on British talk shows similar to Oprah, or are crooks, but they’re the salt of the earth, gor blimey. Give me a cockanee over a scouser anyday of the week. Luvaducks.

See you all on Tuesday when I’ll tell you all about my trip to the smoke!