Are You Me Mot*...Or Wot?

Strap hanging on Dublin’s DART as it comes around the bay of Bray supposed to be a facsimile of Napoli. A couple (as Dublin as can be) slug it out in the prize ring of Love the big BIG FIGHT! She accuses him of sleeping with her best friend Mary Ann. It’s below the belt but he retaliates with he only did it ‘cos she had slept with his best mate Mike. Hello...? She says she only fucked him she didn’t sleep with him. Ouch! She‘s ahead now on points. The names of who had slept with f***ing who becomes a litany a veritable who’s who of who to do. Like...is there no one these fuckwits haven’t slept/f***ed with? It seems she’s a shit but he’s a shite. The whole carriage clings as we slowly go around the bend & the bay blossoms into view their every word. Our minds a ping pong ball in the last & furious final set. And just when we’re all of the opinion that they will throw in the towel kill each other & call it quits he suddenly blurts out: ”Are ya me mot... ...or wot! ” And she all snivels & snot contrite shouts out: ”I’m your mot! ” “I’m your mot! ” And they kiss & make unbelievably up. It’s a knockout! Love wins. I get off at the next stop. * Mot is the Dublin slang for girlfriend. Should be said with the glottal stopped!