T’ Birth O’ Woman

One day like, atter wot seemed like a chuffin’ eternity in t’ Garden O’ Eden by ‘is sen, Adam decided ‘e wer’ bored. ‘e’d dun aal t’ weedin’, mowed t’ lawns, an’ picked enuf berries ter mek another batch o’ Sloe Gin. ‘e’d given names ter aal t’ fowls o’ the air, an beasts o’ t’ land, an’ in t’ process invented Latin. ‘e’d even given that slippery bastard t’ snake, a good talkin’ to f’ mekin’ inappropriate suggestions ter the flamingos - which wer’ nah permanently blushing pink. So ‘e calls aat ter God...

“...Ey up boss, ist tha theyer? Ah’ve got a bit o’ a problem daan ‘ere like!”

Nah God wer’ sat on ‘is claad in ‘eaven discussin’ t’ concept o’ crosswords wi t’ arch angels Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. Currently ‘e wer mooare than a tad crotchety ‘at theyer failure to get t’ answer ter clue f’ three daan.  “Four letters, ends in IT – found in t’ bottom o’ a bird cage.”

“Oh, ey up luv” ‘e says peerin’ daan thru t’ claads at Adam. “Before tha says owt, answer me this. Four letters, ends in IT – found in t’ bottom o’ a bird cage.”

“Grit” says Adam.

“See, SEE” says God to ‘is angels, “Wer that so chuffin’ difficult? Appen thee aal are just a bunch o’ winged numpties!”

“Theyer must be a word we can invent f’ a collective o’ angels?” says Gabriel, ignoring God’s sarcasm. "Appen that'd mek a grand crossword question!"

“Aye, like ‘host’, ‘throng’, ooer maybe a ‘choir’” says Michael.

“Thicket” says Adam.

“S’ wassup Adam?” asks God trying to saand vaguely intelligent.

“Well ah don’t wanna saand ungrateful like” says Adam. “An’ ah know tha created me, an’ ‘ave provided f’ me ivver since, includin’ surraanding me wi this beautiful garden an’ aal t’ wonderful animals, birds, fish an’ creepy crawly critters - but ah’m jus’ not happy!”

“Oh, an’ why is that?” came a ‘thicket’ o’ voices fra Heaven.

“Well ter be honest, I’m lonely aal on me tod like” says Adam. “An’ it’s startin’ ter affect me eyesight!”

“Nay fret lad” say God, “appen ah’ve got t’ perfect solution. Ah shall create thee a companion.”

“Whoa" says Adam, "that sounds cooool.”

“Can we call it a Whoa-man” says Raphael whispering in God’s ear.

“As thou art a man, an’ thou art a he” says God sagely, “thy companion will be a she – an’ she will be called a woman.”

“So wots a ‘woman’, Lord?” asks Adam.

“Woman will be t’ most intelligent, sensitive, caring an’ beautiful creature ah’ve ivver created” says God. “She will be so in tune wi thee that she will be able ter figure aat wot tha wants afore tha wants it. She will be so sensitive an’ caring that she will know thy ivvery mood an’ ‘ow ter mek thee ecstatically happy. Her beauty will rival that o’ t’ heavens an’ earth. She will unquestioningly care f’ thy ivvery need an desire! She will be t’ perfect companion f’ thee."

“By eck that saands reight grand, that does!” says Adam.

“Aye lad” says God. “But she’ll cost thee. Tha dunt get owt f’ nowt in this world tha knows!”

“Oh” says Adam. “How much will this ‘ere woman cost me like, Lord?”

“Ah reckon she’ll cost thee, your right arm, t’ rest o’ tha eyesight, she’ll bend tha ear, mess wi yer mind, an’ grip tha testicles like a greyhound on a rabbit!”

“Bugger!” says Adam, scattin' 'is chin....

“Wot can ah get f’ a rib?”