London slang and Cockney rhyme

Bloody typical, in London Town they say buses always come in frees but in Gay Paree they never seem to come at all, so I started killing time by rabbiting wiv me trouble and strife on the dog and bone. After what seemed like donkey’s years the charabanc finally turned up. I was just abaht to ‘op aboard when a right weird geezer barged in front of me. ’Is grubby long overcoat looked like it ’ad crawled out the trenches. His scraggy Gregory Peck seemed to need scaffolding to support the weight of ‘is loaf of bread. ‘Is Barnet Fair was pinned upwards wiv a clasp in the form of a bowler tit-for tat. ‘Is boat-race was ashen and his mince pies were glazed like icing on a cake. He looked as crazy as a box of frogs. Stumbling to the last seat at the back, leaving me hanging, he began spewing out non-associative verbiage, ten to the dozen. Fings like: “Good job pigs can’t fly or we’ll all be covered in muck”, followed by: “If you externalize excessively do you become internally blank?” Other passengers couldn’t believe their King Lears. I was so mightely intrigued and crept towards him to ‘ave a listen but stumbled and trod on his plates of meat. He opened his north and south and started Lord Mayoring at me like nobody’s business. I lost me Aristotle and told him to put a sock in it, he then finally shut his cake-hole and did a runner.

Later, I was walking down the frog and toad, saw him, and told his Land’s End that he ought to buy a new button for his mad China plate, not to replace the one missing on his overcoat, but to button his lip.