Read this aloud in a Yorkshire accent (alright, whisper it if you are embarrassed):-
A tyke who had inherited quite a sum of money went into a high class goldsmiths shop. He told the goldsmith his little terrier had died and he would like him to make a model of it in gold, and that money would be no object. The goldsmith replied " certainly sir, it would be a pleasure to do this for you, 18 carat be alright?". The tyke snapped back "nah yer barmy sod, it's a dog Norah 'oss, ah want's it 'nawin' a bone.