Plates of meat

Today I came across something that you don’t see too much of these days: rhyming slang. A courier was delivering paper to my office and complaining about the lack of parking, at least, I think that was what he was saying. He wanted to know “where d’ya put yer jam jar?”. I told him to park in the delivery bay next time. I hope I answered his question.

He got me thinking, though. What ever happened to the use of rhyming slang in the vernacular? Did someone accidentally let a policeman onto the trick, thereby making the rhyme system useless for its intended purpose (obfuscation to avoid the law)? It is a sad fact that Australian slang has devolved almost to the point where adding an ‘O’ to the end of a word is the extent of our customisation.

The Westie/Bogan/Bevan population seem to be the only holders of a true slang, but to me that population is tainted by association with The Dog-Man, who roams near my workplace. He speaks like a dog would, were it to attempt speech, more like a bark or growl than words. He lives wild, is wild. I feel sorry for him, perhaps with treatment he could be happier, instead of scaring everyone by growl-muttering as he walks along the streets of Parramatta.The government is definitely stealing his thoughts. Poor Dog-Man.

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