Poggered!

I am. By that lot. I just Double handed a good two thirds of that shit. Now I'm about as poggered as I honestly remember ever feeling.

Some explanations are due, yeah? Ok. I'll try to take ye through this. Only my mind's about closing down with sheer exhaustion here. I'm physically, thus mentally, about fucked. Just thought I'd tell ye about this little episode.

" Poggered " ? It's a Gypsy word. Part of what we call " Poggardi jib ". What academics would refer to as " Anglo Romanes ". That vestige of the fuller Romani Gypsy language still retained by english Gypsys. Frankly, little more than a form of slang, these days. 'Pidgin Romanes', one might say? We've lost all inflection and the vast majority of words.

To explain That? (Tricky, actually. Because I have to dredge up what little inflection I've picked up through the academic study of the truer language!) Ok. A Gypsy mate of mine once asked me to demonstrate the purer, inflected, language to him. I asked him what he'd like me to say ~ ye know how it's always murder trying to think of an example of talk.

He said; " Say; ' Here comes the big, black cat '. " So I said, " Avella o boro, kalo matchka. " He was impressed. So was I! I was so into it, in them days, I didn't even need to think about it. Just came out with it. Say that shit to any english Gypsy today? He'd likely say; " Do what, mate?! "

But, it'd be the " Avella " that'd most likely throw him. The rest he should know. Only, he'd only know to say something like; " Acai av's ..... (the big, black cat) ". See? We've lost the forms of shit like I do. They do. We do. He does. Etc.

The fuck was I talking about? The fuck Am I talking about?! Why am I talking about this shit?! Fuck knows. Maybe I've knackered myself so badly I'm going to die as a result of it? Is this the last stage of Ditch Shitters brain switching off and going bye, byes? Am I exhibiting the truth behind the thing about ones life flashing before one ~ witnessing one last time the stuff I knew as a little child? Or is it just the stout and whiskey, on an empty stomach? I'm honestly too fucked to cook my own dinner.

Anyway, trying to drag some sembelance of sense out of all this: I'm poggered. I poggered myself shifting that shit in the photo. That's Turf. What most of ye would probably know of as " Peat ". Only, you put it on ye gardens. We put it on our fires. And the photo's decieving. Let me tell ye; The average length of turf brick in that shot is a foot long. Each bit is about three inches thick. Look again. That fucking pile filled a high sided truck which can hold over a hundred bails of hay! LOT of fucking turf! And I've just shifted most of it. Twice.

" Poggerdom man kedivvus! ". That'd be the proper, old way of saying; ' I fucked myself today! '. Not literally. I'm not out to teach any of you bastards to swear in Gypsy! But, in context, it works. I'm Fucked!

Doesn't the above, rambling, confused and confusing diatribe just about prove it?

Fuck this. I'm off!