Idioms.

Mi dad's gone ooerm nar.

Ee kem ter stop wi me fer four neets cuz e ad a cooers (e's baht wuk for nar) abart aif a mile from eer.

When e wor eer it turnd parent-child relationship on its eeud. Am barn ter speyk like im nar cuz tha can't forget thi roots, can tha?

Am barn ter speyk like im and behave like im cuz to all intents and purposes I am im. Favva-leet. A thutty-year owd prototype, guin darn same deterministic path.

That meeans am barn ter loyse Bluefish one day. I'll cop off wi some gert I meet in t'boozer or wheerivver, an piss ivverythin away. Ivverythin a've wukt for. All them bloody years, wuth nowt. Just like me mam an me dad.

It appened ter me. Well, ter them, an a got cort int crossfire - as tha duz. A kem ooerm wun neet an me mam wor sittin int dark. It wor only abart six a'clock. This is years agu nar burra still think abart it.

Wot's guin on, a sed ter mi mam? Shi cun't gie ower rooarin, and teld mi ter av a look at a bit o paper shi wa owdin. It worra letter frum mi favva: sorry, a've bin playin away. I dun't want ter leeave thi wi nowt.

Fuckinell, e'd gone. A kept tellin er that e'd be ooerm in a minnit. Be reight - thee watch. If 'e cums ooerm, I'll gie im one-eighty in is back wi mi kitchin nives. Am tellin thi, sun. You know what? No bluddy judge in England ud convict me if a did im in terneet. I adden't gorra bloody clue - a nivver sore it cummin. Bolt art ert blue.

E din't cum tho. Turnz art e teld mi mam e wor gooin ter wuk an then ee'd gon bak tut ouse ter pick iz stuff up. E'd waited for er ter set off to visit er mam an then ee'd gon back an tuk ivverythin e could lay is ands on.

This wo Friday. A din't see mi favva til Setdy. Ee kem tut ouse (wi some chips) and they teld me ter gu up ter mi room after wi'd etten em. Later on, wi gorrin iz car an e tuk me in tut tarn. Ad nivver seen im cry afooer, burri did.

Nubdi ivver sore mi rooar. A did it int bath, cuz salt ed assimilate wit watter, and tha'd not be anyt wiser. It wor an excuse fort red face ant puffy eyes an all - a've just gor art ot bath.

A wor 19 an a cun't andle it. Mi mam sed a'd find er angin at back ot dooer wen a got bak frum collidge wun er these days. Shi bowt enuf paracetemol ter num a killer wail - neighbour ad ter keep tekkin um offer. Bowt as much as she cud from both supermarkits. As much as she cud from both kemmists. Mooer than enuf theer ter finish thi off.

A'v not bin reight wi mi dad since. Like a seh, it wa bloody years agu. A've only ivver bin able ter talk wi im abart it wunce. An a din't know what ter seh. A can't even write abart it in proper Inglish - a ev ter code it like this.

A can't forgerrit. A reckon it's same as if tha'd bin in a reight bad accident wi all thi limbs mangled and clingin onter life wi a flap o skin. It's ter much fo thi eead ter process, an all tha can do is develop copin strategies. It meks it so that sum days er allreight, but aif ot time, thi dreeams are fukt up, an tha weks up feelin as tho tha's bin dropped darn a well o misery baht end.

Fallin thru t'blackness, and then fallin sum mooer. A've bin spinning like a cathrin weel in mi own shaft er darkness for 11 years. Am longin ter it bottom. A'll either dee or it'll jolt me back into normality - worrever tharris.

It's ner wunder a feel so sad allt time. Am carryin this rahnd wi me, an it teks effort. A can't gie ower feightin wi it, an a dun't know ow ter lerrit gu. Avin ter balance fooerces wi summat a lot bigger than thi's fuckin debilitatin. Like a kitten trynna pull an artic.