THE FECKITISM OF COMMODITIES
A: There goes good old Mr Mammon.
Feckit, where would we be without him?
B: Fumbling in a greasy till, I suppose.
A: Easier said than done, feckit.
B: What’s that feckin noise upstairs?
A: Aw, that’s poor old Mr Skeleton
falling out of the cupboard again.
B: Feckit! Weren't we to get him a nice little plot
down in the churchyard for himself?
A: We were feckit! But we were too busy saving
for that holiday in Tsunamiland.
B: Poor old Mr Skeleton without a plot. Feckit!
A: And the state of his house, feckit!
B: And the state of the economy, feckit!
A. And the Feckitism of Commodities.
B: Oh God yes, the Feckitism of Commodities.
A: And now they say Beckham
has become a feckin commodity.
B: Feckit, you’re right. They say he’s a prime case
of the Feckitism of Commodities.
A: They never said a truer feckin word!
B: When did he become a commodity, do you think?
A: Feckit, ‘twasn't today nor yesterday.
B: Oh feckit I don't know. He went awful quick in the end.
A: And he was such a nice feckin lad.
B: And to think he's a commodity now.
Well, feckit altogether!
A: ’Twould make you feckin think alright.
B: It would indeed. But feckit, sure he had
the figure for it.
A: Ah sure, feckit, he had. You could see it coming.