Customer: Good Morning.
Owner: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
Customer: Ah, thank you, my good man.
Owner: What can I do for you, Sir?
Customer: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through Rogue Herrys by Hugh Walpole, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
Owner: Peckish, sir?
Customer: Esuriant.
Owner: Eh?
Customer: 'Ee, ah wor 'ungry-loike!
Owner: Ah, hungry!
Customer: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Walpoling activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles!
Owner: Come again?
Customer: I want to buy some cheese.
Owner: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
Customer: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
Owner: Sorry?
Customer: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
Owner: So he can go on playing, can he?
Customer: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.