Why 'ello, 'ello! I've found an empty sack of flour what to write on, and not a moment too soon. Mr. Greystone 'as just informed me that, across the pond, the fat 'as really hit the fryer —the Americans finish their last month before the big vote! After 'e said that, Mr. Greystone said an 'ole mess of things about registering and polling districts, but I didn't 'ear a word. I just couldn't stop thinking about that delicious fat 'e mentioned. Mmmm…what I wouldn't give to 'ave a nice morsel of fat to chew on for supper. I'd 'ave some now and, if'n it was big enough for two meals, I'd save the rest for Christmas Day. Or per'aps I'd use a corner of it to trap a rat, what to train 'im to be my friend always and forever.
Begging your pardon, friends. I've let me stomach run riot again. Back to the matter at 'and. Voter registration deadlines are coming up faster than the railway to Greenwich, so if you 'aven't gone and signed yourself up for the wondrous 'onor of casting a vote—lads, now's the time! It won't cost you a six-p'nce, and I 'ear they send you a lovely bit of paper for your trouble. Seems they even put your name onnit. Imagine! Why I didn't see me name writt'n out 'til I was near 10 years old and they discharged me from the orphanage with nothing but an empty tin can and me dirty ole breetches! Still the happiest day of my life, that. Was the day I found out I had a last name. And a father.
So, get out there and vote, yanks! Or at least get yourselves your rightful bit of paper!
An' do save me some a that delicious fat if you wouldn't mind. All this political analyzing 'as made me terribly faint.