Transcription
Slang, idioms, jargon. The words we choose to hurl at each other's faces are just as much of a cultural fingerprint as the clothes we wear, the games we play. This one's my favorite. We've all had that one friend who orders at Mexican restaurants like, "Ah yes, I'll have the anada E burito cono Poore." So you call them a Kirby sucking Club Penguin iPad kid, or something along those lines.
But what if you're growing tired of the same old curses, slurs, and TikTok brain rot, and crave a more refined lexicon to voraciously vivify vexatiously vulgar tongues? Well, worry not, my chitty-face chuckaboo, for in today's circum-bendus, I'm going to fill that knowledge box with enough slang, slurs, and silly syllables to spiflicate and Higgly Piggly Clapper claw some bottlehead adle.
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Pads. Now, if you're anything like me, you're a big fan of exploiting the words you use on public platforms to manipulate the masses. But as much as I love to gaslight, no one excels in weaponizing the silver tongue more than politicians do. Do you ever find yourself listening to an elected official and get confused by the words they use? "Be the Beast, I wonder what he means by that." Well, luckily for you, understanding the bias and reliability in the words used by important people has never been easier than with Ground News.
Ground News is a website and app designed to give you an easier way to read the news. They gather related articles from around the world in one place, and every story comes with a visual breakdown of the political bias, factuality, and ownership to show how different outlets cover the same story, all with ratings backed by three independent organizations. For example, take the recent FBI report that showed violent crime has dropped in the United States. Ground News found 160 sources covering the story, mostly from the center. Scrolling through the articles, we can see how the left-leaning sources highlight the drop in crime despite rhetoric from Republicans. Meanwhile, right-leaning sources tend to downplay the findings by shifting the focus and distracting from the overall national trend.
Ground News also has a great blind spot feature that shows stories underreported by the left or right. For example, right-leaning viewers would have missed this totally sick story on how octopuses and fish hunt together on joint expeditions. With how much media literacy is dying in our TikTok world, I find Ground News to be an excellent source in shedding light on the latest and greatest developments. Best of all, we're offering all our viewers 40% off their vanish subscription, which is what I use to get unlimited access to all their amazing features. To get 40% off your subscription, go to ground.news/bluej or scan the QR code to subscribe today. Thank you, Ground News, for sponsoring the video.
In today's digital age, language flows more readily throughout the cultures of the world than ever before. And while that should mean we've achieved incredible levels of information availability, education, and human connection, what it really means is that there's just that many more people you need to [ __ ] talk in in-game lobbies with. The comfort of anonymity granted to us by our favorite little TikTok bricks, comment sections, and threads across the internet have evolved into a constant battle of wits. And while many think they could just steal quotes from obscure indie films like "The Princess Bride" or "V for Vendetta" and call it a day, a true master of the silver tongue must engage in more rigorous and refined study to fully weaponize a keen intellect.
I'm talking, of course, about Fight Club. But in all seriousness, to really level up your yapping abilities, we're going to need to whip out the history books to study the wise words of our ancestors, the non-racist ones, at least. And to help stencil your name onto the list of eccentric conversationalists and/or an FBI watch list, I've taken upon myself to analyze the mountain of obsolete slang and idioms, can ED down to some that I think truly shine. So naturally, 95% of it comes from poor 18th-century British people.
And speaking of, what better way to learn the words of yesteryear than a little bit of immersion therapy? Let's say you're walking down the streets of downtown Atlanta after a long night of drinking when you hear wrestling coming from the alley beside you. You let out a sigh. You get ready to hand over your decoy phone and wallet, because it's Atlanta. When you see a magical gnome waddle out of the shadows and introduce himself as Dasher in an adorable French accent, brimming with glee. You bend over to hear his words, words of wisdom. When, uh-oh, you forgot one crucial detail. You're still in Atlanta. And the gnome probably flips out a switchblade and stabs you in the liver, casting a spell that sends you back in time to 18th-century England, but only after magically draining your 401k.
After coming to, you find yourself lying in the dirt of a London dockyard, bleeding profusely from the gut. But hey, you're in Georgia and London now. Having an open wound is pretty much par for the course here. Luckily for you, you catch the eye of a sweet-looking older lady who rushes up and asks you what happened. Now, given the crazy fiasco you just went through, you might say, "After a bender, this Frenchified Dasher took a flourish with their magical gnome tool and tried to ice me after casting up my accounts." You then watch as her amiable face turns to one of terror as she gasps or responds, "An aivi?" Now, you're not quite sure what she means, but noting that horrified look on her face and the magical-sounding words she used, you assume she's heard tales of these fantasy gnome scenarios before and respond with, "That's right." The old lady's eyes then widen even more before she quickly scurries off, fleeing you to believe that she's fing you some help.
Now that you're waiting here, wondering just how many pints of blood the human body has and whether or not you actually saw a gnome or just Danny DeVito, it's the perfect time to let you know that the lingo of the past doesn't perfectly align with the definitions of today. So even though you thought you were able to convey the mythical quackery you just experienced, what you actually said was, "You paid a sixpence to a flashy hooker with venereal disease for a quickie who turned out to have magical male genitalia and attempted to fart on you after you vomited." To which, in shock, the lady asked to clarify, "A penis?" To which you said, "That's right." So you shouldn't be too surprised when you see the old lady return with a group of big, strong, angry men with sticks.
This situation is what we'd refer to as an "uh-oh SpaghettiOs," or as these people would say, a "cocka fuego," or as your mom would say, "Hey, Tuesday night sobbing more tears than Kanye's PR manager." You scadaddle, scadoodle, before you're made a fool. When you lock eyes onto a tavern and figure, "Hey, if you're going to be wounded, might as well self-medicate." But before you can partake in the most classic of British pastimes, you bump into a large, mustachioed man.
"Double the morning, son. Now, I see what you're off to, but before you go looking for hot se's getting a hickey, how about you reach for me bagle mystery? What's in there? I think you know, son. Come now, grab me sausage before you get clammed."
"Whoa, calm down there, Eddie. This adorable little Eggman double ganger isn't soliciting a handy on the threat of death. Clammed is actually slang for starved in these parts. He just doesn't want you to go hungry. But heart's ease and getting a hickey merely gin and getting tipsy."
Eddie, and you better get used to the alcohol slang, as being a Brit in the 1700s, free time activities were pretty much limited to either go drink or go die, with true gamers shooting for a combination of the two. So what this gentleman really said was, "Before you go get tipsy off some gin, how about you buy a sausage?" A bago mystery was a rather whimsical way of pointing out how not even God knows what's stuffed into these intestine-line sacks of flesh, popularized in the 1850s. Which, I know we're currently in the 1700s, but this is my video, so you can all go eat a bag of Arbor V's. This is exactly the kind of I'd like to see make a comeback today, regardless of any potential problems it might pose.
"Just tap thine card here and your signature. Fortuitous two bags of mystery, my good sir."
"Oh, what the is this? A [ __ ] hypodermic needle? A wizard I may be, but power have I not over the workings of conjuration."
"Sausage-ry, you know I ought to sue you. A mage always prepares runic protections from the mortal ODS. What a waiver!"
"You son of a [ __ ]! Come on, Colin, let's get out of here."
Colin, escaping from that vaguely threatening encounter, or as they say here, an average British interaction. You finally watch your way into the tavern with your stomach thoroughly satisfied with meats of unknown origin, and also still bleeding. But as you're walking through the door, a hand snaps shut on your arm. Brimming with fear, you turn towards who you assumed to be the gang of angry men having finally caught up with you, but a relieved to see it's just a mere homeless man with a wild look in his eyes.
"Just a little crank, good sir. If I get candy, I promise I won't shoot the cat."
"Ah, good old crank. Finally, some street slang even a white boy like you can recognize. Well, obviously you don't want this crazy method to kill a cat, and it's about time you got a side quest in this British fantasy land. Okay, just take it easy. Where can I get some meth around here?"
"Uh-oh, he's looking pretty confused. Great. What did he actually say?"
I'm glad you asked. The term "crank" is a fascinating example of a word that has independently derived multiple slang definitions over the course of history, similar to how a minor fling is not only slang for a short-term casual relationship but can also refer to disrespect. While you and I today know "crank" as those funny little rocks, we're pretty sure Aaron Rogers smokes, in this time, it was slang for gin and water. So what he actually said was, "Just a little gin and water, good sir. If I get drunk, I promise I won't throw up."
"This guy's not a homeless tweak. He's just British. All right, I'll get you some gin. I'll give you some Spanx."
"What? He'll give you some money?"
"God damn it."
As you're finally able to breach the entrance of the pub, you're met with quite the exquisite sight. This place is different from the modern-day American bars that you're accustomed to, where you sit down at a sticky table next to that alcoholic that keeps saying, "H must be a hole at the bottom of my glass," before grabbing his keys and scour the menu for a drink that doesn't taste like straight piss but isn't too tasty that your immature friend from high school calls you gay, all while seeing how many alcoholics you can convince or find the drive home for a taste of power in listening to the bar's playlist of Journey and/or The Black Keys and literally nothing else. Hey, when enough of them are on the road, that's not a hazard, that's just skill-based matchmaking.
Anyway, the British taverns of old were more than just a place to speedrun failure. They were the beating hearts of their local communities, a place for socializing, for business, and political meetings. The pub was where anyone could go at the end of the day to just let go and be themselves, so long as that wasn't gay or black. The room before you is dimly lit, the floorboards creak as patrons walk beneath a low ceiling, dodging wooden beams, while the warmth from the open hearth enchants the atmosphere with a cozy ambiance. It's within these very walls that centuries of culture have been molded, shaping the fabric of the society around you, including the very slang you're learning about today.
You make your way to the bartender as a smile grows on your face because even with all the trauma you've been through, the spell of the British pub is already starting to work its magic on you. Despite all the stress, all the hostilities, and no mcab wounds, you're beginning to believe that against all odds, things just might turn out all right.
"Strip me naked and the magic is gone."
"What are you talking about? Come on, give us a d."
"What is happening?"
"Ah, just two more slang phrases for JY again. I can't stress this enough, there really wasn't much else to do."
"Oh, right. Uh, to strip you naked, you'll do what to me now?"
"Wrong pronoun. Wrong pronoun. Do strip me naked to go, please."
"Sure, coming right up. Oh, and be careful now. You're sitting right next to an admiral of the narrow seas."
"Oh, uh, thank you for your service. That was slang, wasn't it? For a drunk who vomits into someone's lap?"
"Yes. Don't worry, lad. Voice sound more than R is here to help clean you right up."
"What's so funny?"
"It's just I'm happy you're learning. I just feel like I'm being tortured."
"Yes, but anyway, a vice admiral that Aros sees was slang for a drunken man that pees under the table into his companion's shoes, which apparently was a common enough occurrence to warrant a full phrase."
Covered in more blood, piss, and puke than a Megan Fox relationship. You wait patiently as the bartender brings you your drinks.
"Do stirrup cups for you, lad. A freeze for a parting drink given to guests who are taking their leave, typically drink on horseback."
So now you have some fun new lingo to use. Feel like a little cowboy the next time you're pulled over for a DUI.
"Say, what's your name anyway?"
"Oh, I'm Eddie."
"Jackie?"
"No, it's Eddie."
"Oh, Max, actually. It's Eddie."
"What the? You got to be kidding me. Lightning."
"Oh, come on. How many words do you people have for gin?"
"Quite the comical amount, actually. In fact, one of my primary sources, A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue by Francis Grose, has over 25 terms for the liquor. I was surprised at first until I realized the lexicon was originally published following a period known as the Gin Craze in Britain, where due to some salty pillow fighting going on between England and France, French brandy was restricted, causing cheap gin to skyrocket in popularity amongst London's poor. So intense was its popularity that Parliament passed a whopping five major acts just trying to get people to chill with the bottle."
I know this might sound rather crazy, but if you want to understand the Gin Craze today, all you have to do is watch reruns of Ellen. As you grab your stir-up cups to complete your side quest. Do you hear someone yell, "The launch is starting!" followed by the horrid screams emanating from a girl outside? Surely you figure the combination of a launch and woman in fear must mean Elon Musk is nearby. But as you open the door and mentally prepare for a 15-minute monologue of [ __ ] you find out that there isn't an upcoming SpaceX launch, but a woman giving birth just outside.
While you yet again misinterpreted the situation, luckily you can write this one out, just as you would have if it was Elon that you'd come face to face with. Avoid physical contact, say, "Ew, that's gross," and advise them to stop having more kids. Running the corner with your drinks, you see a one-armed man crouching behind a barrel.
"Stand up and start approaching you. Careful now, Eddie. This sneaks be snags having snaffler seeks to snaffle and snav."
And while you're busy laughing at what you assume to be a bit of amusing Dr. Seuss in alliteration, a mean-spirited highwayman with large teeth comes up and mugs you before stabbing you to death.
"What are you serious?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"What do you mean, maybe?"
"Well, it could also mean this. This is a sneaky horse thief looking to rifle through your things so he can steal a wig for his pet snail."
"Slang is complicated, man. I still don't know if skib is a noun or verb."
"Well, look who we have here. I knew even the slugabeds would be drawn to the commotion."
"A slugabed was a drone. Now, obviously, he doesn't mean the flying kind we're familiar with today. He means someone who can't wake up in the morning. But ironically, if you think about it, slugabed is exactly what modern drones do too."
"You talking about the launch going on back there? Good for you, Eddie. What do you the local lingo?"
"Yeah, the loss is poisoned."
"All right. What?"
"Just another way of saying someone is big with child or pregnant. You could also say she sprained her ankle to say the same thing. But as you've just experienced yourself, using these phrases today would undoubtedly lead to a lot of confusion."
"H Jeremy."
"Oh, I think I sprained my ankle."
"You sure did. Congratulations, Jen."
"No, Jeremy. Oh god, I think I'm poisoned."
"Uh-oh, get Poison Control on the line, please!"
"For the love of God, use my phone."
"Oh, I get it. Let's see if it's blue or pink. I love gender reveals. Ah, well, glad that she's not dying then."
"Ah, I wouldn't go that far. She's still giving birth outside a pub in a London alley. Pre-modern medicine, it's pretty much a coin flip whether or not she becomes a statistic. The beauty of life, right?"
Speaking of, let's see if you keep yours. Now, I'm sure you're wondering where me rer is.
"I really don't want to know."
"He means his arm."
"Ah, what? I have you now."
"Now, I lost it fighting off a 30-foot sea lawyer with me bare hands in the middle of the Blind Man's Holiday, and I took way more from that bloody beast than he got from me."
"Two excellent 18th-century phrases, Eddie. A Blind Man's Holiday is slang for the night or darkness, while a sea lawyer, as you may have guessed, is jargon for a shark. One of my favorite slangs, but also quite ridiculous, as none of these guys are smart enough to pass the bar."
"That's right. So don't mess with me, son. I'm a bottom."
"Um, I really didn't need to know that. Not what you're thinking, Eddie. Amongst bruisers, a bottom is a hearty fellow who can take a good beating. So I guess, in a way, it is what you're thinking."
"All right, all right. What do you want?"
"I'll be a sneak be snacks having snaffler."
"Yeah, yeah, I got that part. So which is it? Are you killing me or looking for a snail wig? Preferably a nice powdered one with the little ponytails."
"I don't have any wigs."
"Oh, well, we'll be taking your shoes then."
"Fine. And do you have any tape?"
"What was that even invented?"
Surviving that snaffler encounter, you continue your journey to deliver your gin as you acquire yet more open wounds from shards of glass and your newly barefoot grippers. But not to worry, these cobblestones are covered in piss that's at least 20% ethanol, so the only thing you're going to be infected with is shame.
As you finally approach him, the wild-eyed alcoholic shoots to his feet, shaking more than an angry dad with Parkinson's.
"Bloody hell, you really milk the pigeon with this one."
"I assure you, I did no such thing. To milk the pigeon just means to endeavor at impossibilities. He's saying you really pulled off something challenging."
"Oh yeah? Really had to slurp, slurp the pigeon milk to get this?"
"Not really the way it's used, but I like the spirit. You're a bit of a clunch."
"I like that. Listen, Cole, what's say you and me go around back and suck the monkey till we're [ __ ] through our teeth?"
"Whoa! All right, buddy. I knew people were weird, but this is getting like VR Chat weird."
"Fret not, Eddie. Remember the rule of thumb when talking to the English: when in doubt, they're talking about alcohol. To suck the monkey was actually the practice of secretly sucking liquor out of a cask or barrel with a straw, an activity so comically stupid that calling it something you could mistake for is Topia fanfic was considered appropriate. And while the Brits may have reached Looney Tunes levels of alcoholic wackiness, the same couldn't be said for their bodily resilience, as newspapers reported numerous cases of people dying from the stunt. I would say that'd be a hilarious thing to see written on a tombstone, but anyone slurping an 8,747-ounce Big Gulp of ethanol probably doesn't have the kind of support structure that care about a proper burial."
So Eddie, what this guy actually said was, "You're a bit of an awkward fellow. Listen, man, how about we both go suck liquor from caskets with straws until we puke out of our mouths?"
"Um, I think I'll actually pass this time."
"Ah, no worries. How about we go fist the cow instead?"
"Great. What's this? Chug cow milk mixed with gin or something?"
"Oh, no, that's not an idiom."
Adding yet another tally to your daily trauma quota, you barge back into the pub, not only to get clear of that frig pig but to get clear yourself. And as luck would have it, you spot a woman holding an extra pair of men's shoes, undoubtedly taken off the feet of a Wy crops Nick nin. As cool as Hobbits are, it's probably best to get them paws covered. So you approach the last to explain your situation.
"Hello, Miss. Uh, how do you do?"
"H, another master of the wardrobe, are we?"
"Oh, you're far too kind. No, she's not, Eddie. That wasn't a compliment. Come on, you're literally covered in puke. A master of the wardrobe was someone so desperate for a drink that they pawned their own clothes to pay for it."
"Oh, no, no, no. You see, I, I needed to bring some lightning to this drunkard outside, and after getting caught up in a launch and then running with a snaffler, you really have tongue enough for two sets of teeth, don't you?"
Before you compliment her sick-nasty alien reference, she's actually using a phrase for a talkative person, essentially saying one set of chompers isn't enough for someone who yaps as much as you do, a feeling I'm sure many of us can relate to.
"Hey, this is my friend Keith, but be careful, he's tongue enough for two sets of teeth."
"Oh, is that like some kind of idiot tongue?"
"Can also be used in a quirky response to someone asking how old you were. Hey, this is my friend Kevin here, he's the senior manager at my hedge fund."
"Oh, nice to meet you. That's really impressive. How old are you?"
"As old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth."
"What does that even mean?"
There were actually quite the plethora of phrases to describe a talkative person. For example, you also had the term "prattle basket."
"Huh? Just a random basket?"
"So essentially, at the end of the day, Eddie, this lady is asking you to wrap it up, right?"
"Uh, I was just hoping to take your kicks."
"Uh-oh."
While you've been doing your best to adapt to the contemporary slang, you inadvertently injected some of your modern tongue as well. So you didn't actually ask her for her extra pair of shoes, you asked the lady for her breaches.
"O, I'll give you a kick in the guts."
"Oh, hey, what do you know? You just talking about gin?"
"You're not mad?"
"Gods know every broken town's had a wild knot with that one. She's one of my cousins."
"That's just slang for harlot or prostitute. So she's not literally his cousin."
"I think. I mean, the phrase had to start somewhere."
"Well, thanks, but do you guys drink anything other than gin?"
"Why, it's rather rum."
"Well, you start to get excited. The prospect of finally another alcohol. Around this time, rum was actually also slang for something fine, good, or valuable. And it did a lot of heavy lifting amongst the wret in British population, as it served as an adjective to form additional slang phrases. For example, you had a rum nab, which was a good hat, or rum duke, meaning handsome chap. Make it rum bluffer to say jolly host, or rum bung for a full tote. A rum bugger was a valuable mut, and rum prancer, a fine horse to strut. A rum doxy was a fine wench, rum fuddle, a good drink to quench, rum peepers were good-looking glasses, and a rum problem is what you have."
Finishing your kick in the guts, you head to the bartender to freshen up your glass.
"Uh, you make a rum fuddle, my good man. I'll take another crank."
"Oh, you're pissing down me back. Another crank coming right up."
"I'm really hoping that just means I flattered him."
"Right on the money, Eddie. I'm getting the hang of this. There you go. Careful when quag swagon being off off and off."
I hate the British. Starting to feel a bit of a wobble in your knees, not only from the amount of alcohol in your blood but from the increasing lack thereof. It you decide to look around to mingle with some of the local patrons to fully immerse in the pub culture. You're beginning to get a little chilly because again, you've pretty much got the blood pressure of a quacking cheat by now. See you head on over to a group of men near the open hearth.
"He told me yes, over some scandal broth, that while we went here to soak, he join us after some snappin."
You figure you just might know who they're talking about, but first, let's add some context. Yes, is just a contraction of the word yesterday, a must-use for any conversational minimalists out there. But be careful contracting too much, because let's say you went to work after being sick with the cold the day before, and someone asked you what happened. Responding with "yes infection" could land you in an HR meeting. Scandal broth, along with prattle broth, chatter broth, and cat, you guessed it, lap, are all different ways of saying tea, getting its definition from it being the beverage of choice for women who like to sit around gossiping, or as we would say today, spilling the tea. To soak was yet another phrase for the Great British pastime. However, again, I would express caution using this one today, for asking people to soak with you could land you in hot water, particularly when it comes to Mormons.
"Um, I think I might have run into that guy you're talking about."
The group of men turn towards you as you make yourself known, and the gentleman who spoke previously responds.
"Dig you now, the one rammer toad eater himself."
"Toad eater? What does that mean exactly?"
"What it sounds like, Eddie. A toad eater was someone who was paid to eat live toads and was a must-see attraction at any Georgia affair. The idea was that since people believed toads to be poisonous, a mischievous charlatan could miraculously cure them in order to sell their snake oil medicine. And now, to prove the curative properties of my fantasmal medicine, Johnny here will swallow a live toad."
"Woah! Yeah, yeah, eat it."
"Uh, that's for my wife, you son of a [ __ ]!"
"Right. Well, uh, one rammer, you said?"
"Yeah, I spoke with the cole outside."
"You did what now?"
"Oh, so close. Said he again. I appreciate the effort, but saying 'I spoke with the cole' means you robbed the man."
"Well, well, well, gather around, boys. It looks like I have to settle this cold by a stroke on his knob."
"Stroke? Don't get too excited, champ. He's actually saying he's going to punch you in the head."
"Yeah, and after that, I'll give you a blow in that jolly knob."
"Um, what is happening?"
"Once more, just saying he's going to beat your head in again. Crucial not to misread here, as ideally, we want to minimize your inevitable CTE."
"All three of us have a pull in that knob of yours. All mill that canister, so good, you won't be able to walk in the morning."
"Okay, these guys have to be hearing themselves. To have a pull means to have the advantage on something. He's essentially saying by outnumbering you, clobbering your head in will be a piece of cake. So, in summary, now is an excellent time to start running."
H crossing sticky floors, waving bye to whes, and sprinting out the doors. You're once again weaving your way through the London slums. Running through all these streets and alleys, you're really starting to get to see the full glory of the great power that was 18th-century England. So as you approach the top of a hill, you figure now would be an excellent time to take in the firsthand views of George and London.
"Let's take a look. Ah, what beauty! This magnificent architecture is what they refer to as the Industrial Revolution, or as we say today, an animation timesaver."
Rounding a corner, you finally catch some luck, 'cause you run into a constable.
"Oh, thank God, sir! I'd like to make a report. I'm being chased down by some men from a pub back there, and I really had to heave my way out of there."
"Heave, you say?"
"That's right."
"Right then, come now, son. I've got some ruffles for you. You're going to get to polish the king's iron with your eyebrows."
Now you figure this could mean a few things. Maybe he's inviting you to become a specialized worker in the Royal Court, literally polishing the king's iron. Or perhaps they're asking you to jack him off. Either way, you suppose if you're going to be hard at work for nobility, the potential reward far outweighs any downsides, even if that means sweat won't be the only bodily fluid you're drenched in.
"Okay, sounds good. Uh, but when you say ruffles, are you talking about like, the tasty treat? The spicy treat?"
"No, Eddie. When you told him you heaved your way out of the pub, you actually said you robbed the place. And to polish the king's iron with one's eyebrows actually was a saying for looking out of prison windows. You're very much so under arrest."
"What? No! This is a mistake."
"You know, I reckon it's your execution day as well."
"What? No! This is absurd! Help me, Godbird!"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Eddie, but he doesn't literally mean you're being executed. He just means you need to be washed. You are absolutely painted in people's DNA, after all, say, aren't you the bloke that verbally assaulted Mrs. Lock earlier?"
"All right, then. I'm taking you in, and you'll go up a ladder to bed."
"Okay, that one does mean execution. Please save me! Take me back to Atlanta!"
"Oh, sure thing. What, you could have done that the whole time?"
"I could have, but what kind of teacher would I be if I did? An ethical one."
"Oh, please, I never took ethics class."
"Oh, I feel weak."
"So Eddie, now they got to soak in all the grime and culture, the people and customs, and the pubs and boos of 18th-century London. How about it? Feeling ready to wag that silver tongue with a whole new pallet of colorful slang?"
22 minutes. Getting a little sloppy. Dasher Z was in the way of the aot AR. Can't let him bend down. Next time it messes up your aim. Good run. A few more drills tomorrow. We excellent obsolete slang. 12 out of 10 stars.
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