Another Sunday quickie.

A friend of mine is moving from Kent to either Lancashire or Yorkshire. I advised her to choose Lancashire, on the grounds that I reckon Yorkshire is the right end of the country, but the wrong side of the Pennines.

This is a reflection of the deep rivalry between the two counties. The Yorkists have never really forgiven us Lancastrians for whipping their arses during the Wars of the Roses. However, despite the mutual distrust, when push comes to shove we’re in it together, as this probably apocryphal story shows.

A Lancastrian and a Yorkshireman were sitting together watching a Roses cricket match, and the umpire made a questionable decision and dismissed a batsman.

‘Ee were never out.’

‘Ee were. Out by a mile.’

‘Ee weren’t out.’

‘Ee were.’

‘Ee weren’t out in a month o’ Sundays.

At this point, the man in front turned round and said, ‘I think you’ll find he was out.’

‘Oh aye? An werra thee from?’

‘London.’

‘Then it’s nowt do withee. Bugger off.’

That sums it up nicely.

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