When shoppin' I'm in sweats and nerd coat to cover stuff. Best go blaggin' when there's a load of peeps, and with a Johnny no-star for the Jakes to eye-ball. I bun a zoot and go for it.
Garms is easy, 'cos you've changin' to get all the shabby kit on. You leave lookin' tonk, not the skinny manz that went in, if you know what I mean. Eats is okay, cos it's like tight. The store feds don't trouble 'bout every nang loaf. Lectricals is sticky, with alarms 'n tags and shit. For that blaggin' I make sure I've wettin' creps. Anything bigga than an X-Box is militant. Mind, I got a telly once, when them riots was on, innit. It's good to know posh talk, cos if they get sus you can chat your way out.
It's the old-folks that is 'ready bayden that's gettin' away with the real blags. If the store dicks weren't always on we youf they'd catch a few of them granddads making a livin', innit- Hatton Garden's geezers. There ain't nuffin' for youf, 'spesh with them oldies with state handouts and brinks mat pots. The boomer generation are taxing our bleedin' future.
Under Bow Bells, Cockney Rhyme gives way to Multicultural London English- Perhaps the language above was authentic for a day and perhaps not.
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