All the fours forty four

“NOW on to the full house and nice loud calls if you do have a claim.”It is with those exciting words that the tension mounts and the drama builds and the momentum reaches fever pitch.

“NOW on to the full house and nice loud calls if you do have a claim.”

It is with those exciting words that the tension mounts and the drama builds and the momentum reaches fever pitch.

You see, dear readers, in my everlasting quest to get myself out of the house and mind-numbing television programmes and the suggestion I redecorate my little Ipswich sitting room I have discovered a new pastime. Bingo.

Not only can you sit somewhere comfortable and warm for a few hours you also have the time to distinct chance of untold riches.

Last time I played the lottery all I needed was three numbers to win a tenner, but it didn't happen. So I got out the little blue Polo, the latest replacement of the trusty rusty Rover, and motored across town to play bingo where the odds are better and there is a bar.

“I'd like a set of cards which have the winning number please,” I announced as I sauntered up to the counter to purchase my bingo books.

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“I'd like a solid gold toilet seat, but that aint gonna happen either,” came the somewhat shocking reply.

Nevertheless, dabber in one hand and a selection of colourful books in the other I found myself in the non-smoking section - now on day 13 in my bid to give up - of the hall waiting for the evening's main event.

Terrified I would have to make a call in front of a crowded room I discretely asked what I should do if my eyes went down and my number came up.

The options ranged from:

n “Here”

n “Ere you are”

n “Over here”

n “Yes”

n “House” - including “cottage” and “maisonette” for those trying to be funny.

n “Call”

n “Bingo”

n And in one case I think I heard a loud “about time, by Jupiter!” shouted across the room.

By now the numbers were coming thick and fast and if it wasn't for the lack of a 53 and a 71 I'd be £20 better off.

My new bingo-playing friend Tina did make a claim scooping a very handy £75 in the process.

Unfortunately I've yet to enjoy the satisfaction of taking home a prize plagued it seems by what are known as streakers - a section of the bingo card in which no numbers are called leaving them with nothing on.

Never mind I'm sure next time I'll be lucky.

MY postbag, which is never exactly bulging - I think people think I'm a tiny bit arrogant and don't deserve a letter - was positively groaning this week after last week's comments I made about the Essex accent.

Dear Mr Marston

I read your article in the Evening Star (16th January, 2007) with the headline 'I'm off to Furrock, innit?'.

I moved up to Ipswich in March 2001, from Essex and find it interesting that you think that is the way people speak in Essex.

The original Essex accent, in fact, is very similar to the Suffolk accent. Sadly, over the last 50 years or so, the 'real' Essex accent has been overtaken by the so called 'Estuary Accent', which is a form of the East London accent.

However, for those of you who are proud of the Suffolk accent, the Estuary accent is creeping into your accent and like the true Essex accent, your accent will disappear.


Mrs Clive A Farrell

Darlin Dear James,

Professional speak now and grammatically correct, I would like to tell you of my lovely sister Carraline (Caroline) or as we call her Cawl.

My children went to a local private school, and were always correcting mine and my sister's bad grammar, saying things like its Water mummy not whotar or as you mention in your Furrock innit comments war'er.

Well one day my middle daughter had her school chums in stitches when she recounted her aunty Caroline telling her children to “keep me asce tidy”. The little prepites said what's an asce?, Vicki promptly replied, “it's what she lives in”

This particular day lovely aunty Caroline picks up said children from posh school only to have all of Victoria's classmates surrounding her saying is this the aunty Caroline who says keep me asce tidy? You know what children are like; they were going around the school saying this at every opportunity like some sort of chant. Needless to say the teachers were not best pleased.

Some other words that might need explaining

but er …….for butter, the T is not sounded at all

ar……. For Our as in ar asce (our house)

aet …….Out


me…….. My/Mine as in keep me asce tidy or me fags…my cigarettes

plus hundreds of others/uvers that need translating.

Your column had me in fits.

Fanks alot. (Many thanks)

Marian, at Stowmarket, a born and bred Londoner. Whitechapel.


Why not put pen to paper and write to or e-mail James?

He will endeavour to publish your letters, as long as they aren't too insulting, in his column, and he does enjoy receiving them so.

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