You’ve got to love our language…
“Write,” said David. “I’m going two the shop.”
“Witch won?” Tamara asked, inn Ann idol manor.
“The wan down the rode, run bye the old kernel.”
“Eye don’t like that plaice,” Tamara replied. “Their always nasty too me.”
“Our yew shore? Nun of them our like that two me. Whirr yew they’re recently?”
“Of coarse. I’m know lyre! I’ve bean their many thymes, including just three daze ago,” the girl said, in a mien voice.
“Anyway. Wood yew want anything?” the pail bouy inquired.
“Knot really. Except four sum shoe pastry, sum chilly source and a phew cans of bier.”
“Know problem. I’m getting sum bred, meet, maze, pees and a couple of pares.”
“Aisle bee hear weighting four ewe. Oh, get sum flower to. I knead too make a pi. Hears a tenor.”
“Yore sew suite! Ewe no I’ve knot bean paid four moor than a weak.”
“Yes, that is knot fayre. Their crewel and fowl inn yore office.”
“Yew our rite. Sea ewe later.”