Category Archives: London Stories

The day A Squirrel sh*t on my head –

A Squirrel once sh*t on my head –

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It was a beautiful summers day the birds were singing in the trees and I was out walking in Hyde park with a ( rather hot ) lady nurse from Great Ormond Street Hospital and some of her nursy friends.

I’d not long been in London and was delighted when I moved jobs to work in Russell Square , as all the local bars and clubs were full of student nurses and other hospital staff and to my sheer joy they seemed to like my Belfast charm and accent and I felt confident that I may pull me a sexy nurse , if i got lucky!

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Hey, I was a young hot blooded male back then.

It was also full of trainee police staff , but to be honest they kind of scared me a little and made me nervous and so I kept my distance. This was obviously a hangup from my days of growing up in Glencairn and in and around the Shankill/Woodvale and my experiences with the police thus far , as a petty criminal. Normally for joy riding ( I know, I’m ashamed of myself now , but I was a product of the time and place ) shop lifting and abusing myself with drugs ect , nothing too serious in the grand scheme of what was going on back then in Glencairn and throughout war torn Belfast. Back in those days we tended to police ourselfs ( well UDA / UVF did ) and whilst we respected the police it would never enter our heads to ask them to settle local disputes or fallouts and so I had a natural apprehension round the old bill that would take me a few years in London to shake off. The fact that the paramilitaries policed us was of little concern to us and we give it little thought, unless we were caught in the act, so to speak and then we knew would be fecked!

Once when I was in a stolen car and the police chased us all the way from the Antrim Rd, through Westland, up to Ballysillian , down Ballysillian rd and all the way up to the middle Glenciarn. I was absolutely shitting myself in the back of the car and was amazed and relieved when some how, I dont know how, we lost the police. The guys I was with were the best car thieves/joy riders in Glencairn and where legends to the many young hoods in the estate whom looked up to them. Maybe the police had been called to a more important job or something , but as we made our way through Glencairn I swear to myself I would never get in a stolen car again. Suddenly in the distance we heard the sound of police sirens coming our way and the driver put the foot down and we were almost flying as he tried to get away from the approaching police. Then he turned a corner and smashed smack bang into the car of a top UDA man in Glencian , whom was a bit of a nutter and not to be crossed. Anyways we all jumped out of the car and ran for our lives and to be honest i was more worried about the UDA guys car, than i was about the police.

Next day we were all summoned up to the community centre and questioned by the UDA about the crash and the top guy whose car we had almost written off is going ballistic and calling for blood. Denial was the only option open to us as we didn’t want to have our kneecaps rearranged , so we all lied through our teeth and stubbornly stuck to our story , despite the fact our interrogators and the mad man knew we were lying and anted to kill us . Thanks to some family connection I wasn’t shot that day, but when the guy brought a new car we had to wash it for him for the next few months and he took great pleasure expecting our work and making us do it over again and again.Lesson learnt, no more joy ridding.

Anyways back to the squirrel and the trainee police staff I certainly wasn’t brave enough at the time to hit on one and possibly be arrested. LOL

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The day way going great until I heard the gentle hypnotic calling chimes of the Poke Man ( icecream van in Northern Ireland slang to those who don’t know )and thought I’d treat myself and all the nice girls to a nice big Poke.

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I inquired of the ladies present if any of them would like to have a Poke with me and through howls of laughter I took their orders. Of I go and on my way through a grove of trees I look up and pause for a moment, watching as two beautiful squirrels seemed to play tag with each other , jumping and swinging from branch to branch they disappeared in to the tree tops above me. It felt like a special kind of moment in time and I was kind of entranced and touched by it all.

And then one of the little feckers shat on my head!

How feckin rude is that ?

I knew it was squirrel shit immediately because it was the most logical answer and also they were both up there in the trees, starring down at me and I swear I heard them snigger.

Also the one that done the dump on my head must have had a curry the night before because as it ran down the side of my face , hot and sticky it smelt shocking and to make matters worse I could feel lumps cascading through the shit and gagging I realised they were poo covered bits of nuts.

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Bending over a tree I start throwing up all over the place and prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me alive. Sadly it didn’t happen.

Then to my utter shame and horror my Lady Nurse friend was beside me, stroking my back and asking if in a mummy voice if I was OK. It wasn’t a pretty sight to be fair and wiping my hair with a tissue I excused myself and proceeded to go get the pokes.

Sadly I wasn’t successfully that day in pulling a sexy nurse ( but more than made up for it over the comings months) and those are stories for any day.

See: The Loyalist Mod

See: Northern Ireland food and drink I love and miss

See: How to speech Belfast : https://belfastchildis.com/2017/04/30/how-to-speak-belfast-northern-ireland-2/

London Stories – Lost in Translation ,Do you wanna a Poke?

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Shortly after I had arrived in London I was hanging out with some London friends and one day to my delight I was invited to a picnic in the local park , with loads of staff (young sexy nurses) from Great Ormond Street Hospital.

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It was a scorching hot day and I was surrounded by beauties from across the world and I’m not ashamed to say I was having the time of me life and flirting with the girls as if my life depended on it. I was young , free and single and the world really was my oyster and fate was smiling down on me for at  once.

Lying on the grass chatting with a dusty beauty hanging on my every word I was sure I was going to “pull” and I silently thanked for the gods for bringing me here and now.

Suddenly I heard the gentle chimes of an ice-cream van approaching from the distance and feeling rather generous standing up I asked the crowd :

Does anyone want a Poke?

 

Silence……..

After a moment of confused silence everyone burst out laughing and realising what I’d said I had no choice but to joined in , although I felt like an right idiot!

My English mates thought it was feckin hilarious and took the P out of me for the rest of the day. And in case your wondering I did get off with the dusty beauty and she give me a night I will never forget. She informed me she’d read the kama sutra and I was to be her student for twelve glorious hours.

Another time shortly after arriving in London I was living in Walthamstow and after a skin full of beer I decided a pastie supper was in order , so I staggered my way to the local fish and chip shop and joined the queue.  When it was my turn I informed the good chinese lady behind the counter I wanted a Pastie Supper, with lots of salt and vinegar.

Please.

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She looked at me as if I was speaking Klingon and I saw doubt flicker momentarily in her eyes and then crawl slowly across her face. Then she went off and I was salivating at the thought of getting me chops around a pastie supper and I  could almost taste it my need was so great.

Then she returned and presented me with a  Jamaican Patty, a smug “got you!” smile dancing on her face.

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No says I ,  “ I want a Pastie Supper”

“Oh”  she says and goes off and returned with a plastic bag. Hmmmm.

This went on for about another ten minute until she’d shown me everything in the shop that sounded like plastic or pastie or whatever the crazy Irish man was asking for.

She was also starting to get grumpy with me and I decided enough was enough and I had to admit defeat!

“Forget it” I says, I’ll have a fish supper.

My Belfast accent was often a talking point among people when I first met and/or worked with during my early years in London. In fact to my joy a lot of women found the accent sexy and with my Northern Irish charm I was never without female company or friends and I always stood out in a crowd. When I first started to work in the City in high profile and big wage sales teams my accent was more of a hindrance and at times I found it hard trying to sell insurance and mortgages to people who couldn’t understand me. Slowly and gradually I learnt to slow right down and pronounce my words with less of the Belfast lilt and thankfully my sales went right up. The weird thing is my accent sound normally to me now, but when I go home they call me”posh git ” and London Steve  and take the piss out of my English accent. ?/

But back in England I still meet  people who find it hard to understand what I’m saying and I have to kinda slow down for them, mostly when I’m drunk come to think of it. I once had a Japanese girl (very rich) and I could hardly understand a word she was saying to me and she had no clue what I was saying to her, the long winter nights flew in!!

Funny.

Bye for now.

You have been ready extracts from my Autobiography Belfast Child – See home page for more chapters and PLEASE share. 

 

How till spake Norn Iron (A guide to local phrases)

There’s no better way to get to know the city and its people than to mingle with the locals and engage in a bit of light-hearted ‘banter’.

So if you want to know the difference between a minger and a munter or why tea is different from tae, or add your suggestions, just consult ‘How til spake Norn Iron’ and you’ll be talking the talk before you know it…big lad!

Here’s our A-Z online guide to speaking the local lingo, like:

A is for…
Ach: A regional word that’s usually placed at the start of a sentence. “Ach go on.”, “Ach you know?”
Arse: Bottom, bum. “A kick up the arse.”
Ascared: Combination of the words afraid and scared. “I’m ascared of heights.”
Aye: Yes. “Aye, I’ll have a pint if you’re buying.”

B is for…
Bake: Mouth/face. “Shut your bake”, “Look at the bake on her”
Banjaxed: Broken. “Darling, the bog is banjaxed, call a plumber”
Banter: Craic, fun chatter. “Let’s go for a pint and some banter”
Beezer: Good, fantastic “Your new car is beezer mate.” (Rosemary – London) 
Big Lad: A robust young gentleman. “Alright big lad?”
Bout Ye!: Greeting, How are you? “Bout ye big lad, let’s go for a swall.” (Glenn Kelly – Belfast)

C is for…
C’ mere: A command. “Come here”
Catch yourself on!: An expression, translated as “Get a hold of yourself!”, “Wise up!”
Clinker: Similar to Beezer. “My new bike is clinker.” (Eimear – Belfast/Glasgow)
Coupan: Face. “Look at the state of the coupan on yer woman.” (Eimear – Belfast/Glasgow)

Cracker: Good. “That restaurant was cracker”
Craic: Fun, to have a good time. “The craic is mighty lads, get the beers in”

D is for…
Da: Father. “I seen your Da in the pub last night”
Dander: Walk. “Lets go for a dander”
Dead-On: Good, decent, alright. “I like him, he’s dead-on”
Does my head in: Expression. Someone who really annoys you. “That dipso does my head in”

E is for…
Eejit : An Idiot. “You are an eejit”

F is for…
Faffin’: Messing around, acting an eejit. “Stop faffin’ around and do some work”
Fegs: Cigarettes. “Can I have twenty fegs and a can of coke?”
Fiddle: A Violin. “Get that fiddle out and let’s have a sing-song”
Fire: Throw. “I was out firing stones at the peelers”

G is for…
Grand: Good. “That’s grand, I’ll see you at half-eleven”

See: inyourpocket.com for G – Z