Mon then ya mad rockets, let’s be goin’ to see some stone floaters. There’s a many a good throw in the crowd. I’ll admit  there’s a few that rips ma knitting, but none dodgy. The peach with the elbow looks a stoater, but he got it right roon ye, din’t he, ya dafties? He starts a proper nigel but the assembled dae a burly and take him to their bosom, don’t they?

You know there’s a bevy sesh on the ‘orizon after the what ‘ave you. There’s nothing so satisfyin’ as hingin’ aboot wi mates efters. It’s a sound strategy. I wish the assembled would hawd their wheesit while the man’s throwin. I’m assumin’ they’re carryin’ cargo already. These tinkers always have money for it, but live in spam valley when Monday comes around.

Well, I gotta wrap it. Ta!