what’s it going to be, eh?

He had glasses on and his rot was open to the cold nochy air. He had books under his arm and a crappy umbrella. He was coming round the corner from the Public Library. So we came to him, and I said, very polite: "Pardon me, brother." He looked a malenky bit poogly* when he viddied us, but he said: "Yes? What is it?" in a very loud teacher-type goloss.