Creative Comedy Project

I'm norra racialist me! By Phil Lowe

Mr Ducky: See, warrit is, lemme tell ya duckie, I'm norra racialist. I'm not. I'll even guh down Chinky Chippy run by Fu Manchu, Charlie Chan, or worrever is name is. I dunt touch the Chinese muck they sell but I will have a number 42. That's Chinky chips, a Pukka Steak pie and Cantonese style mushy peas. Number 42 tharris. They've gorra number 'em all cus 'alf the illegal immigrants woking there can't even speak the Queen's English! And 'ow people can eat that other Chinky foreign muck is beyond me. I've always bin the same. Me Dad wor too. Whole family. English grub for English folk. Yorkshire pudding, roast beef and roast taters. Or a cheese and 'am sandwich wi proper chutney. English grub. Can't beat it. Call me particular but I won't even drink tea if I see it's grown in Ceylon. It's all picked by foreign wimmin! You don't know where their hands have been.

What surprised me annall is that, allegedly, the Chicken Tikking Masala is now considered the most popular English dish in Great Britain! How can it be a Great Britain when British people are shoving that stinky junk down their gullets? How? Summat's not right. It's not. I'm not prejudiced though cos I did try some once and it gen me the proper shits. You don't know what gus into it. You don't, could be any ode stuff – mice droppings an all. I've sin it in The Sun. Standards have definitely dropped over the years as far as food is concerned. It wor bad enough when everybody started eating that ruddy Froggy garlic in the 1960s. Of course, everybody's eating owt these days. It's even encouraged on telly. Ever since that Madhur Jaffercake got on the box. Meks me laugh. I've sin programmes on telly and you dunt know what gus into most on it. Disgustin'. I don't trust rice, either. Never have.

See, warrit is, lemme tell ya. I've bin in Sainsbury's supermarket where I go for me knocked down stuff, reductions like, and I've sin all sorts on display – mostly foreign muck – curries 'n crap from all over ruddy world. Then there's that Paki food. You know, them onion argie bhajis, as I call um, or them triangular Samoans. I don't care if you do have a choice of vegetable or chicken, I wunt touch um wi a bargepole.

Warrit is annal, we've some Pakis from India on our street. The toxic stench of curry that comes reekin' over ma garden fence is horrendous. I'm sure its killed off one of me begonias. One of them Paki families runs a chain of them mini - supermarkets with them cruel heartless butchers in the back. Al Al. Not proper butchering that! If I got ode of that Al Al bloke I'd blummin' slaughter 'im! As I said before like, I'm not racialist, norrabit, but there's a ruddy limit, int there?

Phil Lowe.

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