BOB'S JACKET
I found it hard not to join in the laughter when the following tale was being told by one man to another in the bits queue, 'Bob 'adn't been up to much for a long time an' it wassn't no surprise when they tole me 'e wass dead.
I went to 'is funeral, for we wass related, far off like, on me mother's side. I don't know where 'is widow got the idea, but she said Bob always thought a of o' me an' she wanted me to 'ave somethin' that wass 'Is. Well, I went up one evenin'. She looked through all sorts o' things. There wass a gold watch but it didn't go an' she never offered it to me anyway, but after a while she fished out an old jacket. "'Ere," she said, "Bob wass always fond 'o this jacket. I think 'c'd like to feel you wass wearin' it." So I took the ole jacket an' went 'ome. "What you got there?" says my ole lady. "Jacket belonged Bob Evans," I says, "an' it fits." "It should," she says. "Don't you remem- ber it? I took it to the jumble sale five-six year ago." "Well, I got to wear it for Evans' sake," I said. I'm a bit of a sentimentalist.'
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