I had been practising some stunts on the FarkBlade in the empty overspill car park recently when I noticed Ken Ellman, the owner of the farm adjoining the Farkham Hall estate watching me over the fence. I stopped to pass the day, thinking he was impressed with my stunting style.
Ken opened the conversation with "'Ere! You'm wanna get zumm o' that traaaashin control vor that thar boike o' your'n". Slightly bemused, I tried to explain that the execution of a feet up rolling burnout was a matter of great satisfaction and pride to me. Seeemingly unimpressed, he went on with "'E muzz be carrssstin' you'm a vortune in toyers!". "You'm get your'nzelf traaasshin' control and thart'll pay fer itzelf in no toime".
Feeling that I was fighting a losing battle, I should have shut up but tried once more to explain. It was to no avail. "'Kin 'Ell man," he said "Tharrrrt be whoy they'm callz it Traaasshin' Control, it starrrps you'm vrom traaasshin' your'n toyers!". With that he turned and sauntered off to some farmerly chores no doubt, leaving me puzzled and relieved that he hadn't added "You marrrk moy wurrrrdz!", when from the retreating figure of Ken Ellman sprang the parting shot "You marrrk moy wurrrrdz young Farkham!". "You'm bludi mad you'm!"
I put the bike away and had a long sit down.
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