Here’s Victoria Wood, on death:
In India, if a man dies, the widow flings herself on to the funeral pyre. In this country, the woman just says: “72 baps, Connie; you slice, I’ll spread.”
Thanks to Ms Wood and also, to a lesser extent, her fellow Lancastrian, comedian Peter Kay, I can now no longer utter the name “Connie” other than in a Northern voice; it somehow sounds completely wrong in my BBC English accent.
(As did asking for an “Alfred Hitchchocolate cupcake, please” in San Francisco earlier this month … but that’s another story.)