Normal for Norfolk

Trosher was rat-arsed, all right. Four pints in five minutes, as the saying goes. He reeled out of the pub looking right queer, his face all bishy.

“Oi!” he yelled, walloping me on the back. “Hold yer hard, bor!”

“Gettin’ on me wick, Trosh,” I said, moving away.

He stopped and held up a finger, then slowly turned out his pockets. A collection of coins spilled onto the cobbles, rolling away as he tried to stomp them.

He looked up and give me a watery smile. “You can keep anything you collect, bor. Enough to stand you a pint, at least.”

He walked over to the wall and sank down, legs asprawl as he sat.  His chin dropped to his chest and he started to snore.

“Bloodly berk,” I muttered, and tried and heave him up by the wrist.

Down the street I saw a pair of constables walking towards us.

What Pegman Saw: Great Yarmouth

15 thoughts on “Normal for Norfolk

  1. Oh my, I giggled all the way through this one. There seem to be coins falling everywhere in Great Yarmouth. The slang had me in stitches. I could hear it all.

  2. What fun this is ~ except for poor Trosh. Me thinks his morning won’t be so grand. Imagine visiting here and hearing all the slang, spoken quickly and trying to figure out what the heck they are saying.

  3. Quite the vivid picture you paint — one that reminds me how happy I am not to be dealing with drunk & disorderly friends on a Saturday night anymore! (Well, not that drunk, at least.) Great use of slang, that’s fun.

  4. A common scene in this part of the world, though I expect it happens everywhere. My only halt in reading it was the word constable. Coppers would be the norm, if we want to keep it polite :)

  5. Could be any weekend in any town or city in the UK, I fear – we do love to binge drink.Well drawn scene of a night out that’s only ever going to end in vomit and regret! Great writing Josh

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