Half Time

'Burger - no onions, Hot dog with. Ketchup and mustard on both.'

'Please?'

'Please.'

'Pam! Fatslab, no feathers; lingam with, blood and pus on both'

'Got it, Vik, coming up.'

'Puh-lease! You won't sell much like that, eh?'

'Not my van, innit?'

'So what? You get paid, don't you?'

'Like, soooo not enough, man.'

'Can you hurry it up, please. They'll be out on the pitch in a minute.'

'This is quality, innit!'

'Didn't sound like you think so, before.'

'Yeah well, not exactly desi is it?'

'Ha, like you could sell pakoras here. You wanna try Oldham, sunshine.'

'Maybe I will, like I say. Not my van. Wanna drink with that?'

'Tea, two sugars.'

'Get that, Parminder? Double sweet piss!'

'Funny fucker aren't you?'

'You'd be missing out on both counts.'

'We don't need your sort.'

'Really? Here's your tea?'

'Ow! That's fuckin' hot?'

'Like you wouldn't complain if it wuzzent.'

'Yeah, just the same...'

'Thanks, Parminder...Extra pus and feathers on the dog?'