In ye olden dayes Men wd gather around ye Fire for to tell one-another storyes of Legend & for to offer one-another Sound Advyse on Matters of Import. Aye, a most vocal Tradition. Alack & Alas, To-Day we have the Tell 'Ee Vision. Young Men, unbloodied by War & untested by Experience, filling oure Heades with sundrye Jocularr Visions & silly Jokes. 'Oyez oyez, I'll tell 'ee this...' commenceth they, 'My Mother-In Lawe be so fatte she doth Eclipse ye Fuckynge Moone!' Damn their Tell 'Ee Visions & the Bad Language that doth accompanye them. They quite Ruine the Mindes of the Younge. Bring back ye Goode Language say I, the Olde Latinne and Greeke & cetera & let Us have no more of this Tell 'Ee Vision Satyre. Aparte from aught else, ye more Numerous ye Human Channels for these Visions there be, the Thinner ye Materialle. Bah!

What? Are we nowe to appease these damn'd Usurers, Gropecuntes & Fatte Cattes? Oh, hey nonny nonny diddly-arse NO!

I cannot waite to see ye backe of Medieval Laboure & its blasted Politicalle Exactitude. For what prevaileth under their cursed Rule but Ye Black Death, riot, Incontinence, oppressions, rackinges of the poore, Domes, raisinges of house prices, publick entertainments of Cookerye & ye bending of ye knee to America though it hath yet to be e'en fucken discovered! Some do say the Newe World wille in fullnesse be inhabited by o'erweight folke with fire-armes & ruled by a Blackamoor ha ha would ye have any spare change on ye at all. 

I near fainted upon hearing ye latest proclamation, to whit that a peston be worthe but five testons & another proclamation following hard on't that testons cried at six pence apiece, a groat at two pence, two pence but one penny, one penny an obolus & a halfpenny a farthing! Thank G-d I converted my savings into fragments of Ye Virgin Mary's pants.

Ye Receiver hath tk possession of my modest wooden house in Puddynge Lane & of my beefs, halberds, chamber pots, swines, child mistresses, ale buckets, wild bear, sturgeon, firearms & divers shit like that. Cock-swallowing taxpayers! I wd be mighty gladdened if ye STINKYNGE TREACHEROUS FRENCH did entyrlie take over ye fuckynge bankes!

In an Iland engirdled by ye Ocean's pearllie Queene there be'd sometime a Cittie situated, made riche by Marchandize & populous by long peace, whose name be-be'd Londoyne. The Cittie be'd of no small credit, having exceeding wealth, and girt buildens waggling in ye Sky like unto giant udder-teats inverso. That be all I cn remember, that & loads of wankers talken loudllie in mobile.