scratched brassDialogue

Just say it normal,

lad.

Your normal.

Not his.

Asked for Scouse. Got lovely brass.

Put the accent first.

Still finished last.

“Broad Liverpool.”

“Keep it throughout.”

Made the letters bigger.

Didn't help his mouth.

Nearly there.

Run it back.

Lovely trombone.

Keep that.

“That’s perfect.”

Hadn't heard it yet.

Pressed play.

Bit premature, that.

Put “la” in the lyrics.

Put “lad” in twice.

He Safe.

He pronounced them clearly.

Very polite.

Asked for two fellas

to have a quick chat.

“PERSON ONE.”

Didn't mean say that.

Nearly there.

Run it back.

Leave him a minute.

He's reading the brackets.

Twenty-five points for the bend in a vowel.

Made us a table.

Looked proper, an' all.

Weighted the twang. Put the doubts underneath.

Still the same fella.

Different spreadsheet.

Now there's a file explaining the laugh.

We've nearly got Scouse—

In the first paragraph.

Nearly there.

Run it back.

Lovely trombone, though.

Don't sing the chorus.