|
Owner: What can I do for you, Sir?
Customer: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through Rogue Herrys by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
Owner: Peckish, sir?
Customer: Esuriant.
Owner: Eh?
Customer: 'Ee, ah wor 'ungry-loike!
Owner: Ah, hungry!
Customer: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little toasted wheat gluten will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cripsy comestibles!
Owner: Come again?
Customer: I want to buy some toast.
Customer: Most certainly! Now then, some toast please, my good man.
Owner: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
Customer: Well, eh, how about a little Balmoral.
Owner: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of Balmoral, sir.
Customer: Oh, never mind, how are you on Windsor?
Owner: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it fresh on Monday.
Customer: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four slices of Sandringham, if you please.
Owner: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.
Customer: Frogmore?
Owner: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
Customer: Ah. Buckingham?
Owner: Sorry.
Customer: Kensington?
Owner: No.
...
:P
|