![[Ire]](/static/img/flags/ire.png "Ireland")
More Pricks than Kicks 91: He called me a bloody Bolshy.at bolshie, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 91: He called me a bloody Bolshy. More Pricks than Kicks 64: He was run plump into by one Chas, a highbrow bromide of French nationality.at bromide, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 149: ‘I have the chinks,’ he complained and apologised.at chinks, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 57: ‘How much is that?’ ‘Four dee,’ she said.at d, n.1
More Pricks than Kicks 63: Merrion Row was a home from home for jarveys.at jarvey, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 57: The eyes of them all, the dockers, the railwaymen and, most terrible of all, the joxers, were upon him.at joxer, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 20: ‘You make a fuss,’ she said angrily [...] ‘and then lash into it for your dinner.’.at lash in (v.) under lash, v.1
More Pricks than Kicks 119: I’ll take mine to the lav, I don’t feel very well.at lav, n.1
More Pricks than Kicks 83: ‘Oh Lawdee!’ he gushed [...] ‘don’t tell me I’m the first!’.at lawdy!, excl.
More Pricks than Kicks 168: He wore a belt / Whenever he felt / A pain in his tiddlypush.at tiddly-push, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 119: ‘And the rosiner,’ said Mrs Tough, ‘will you have that in the lave too?’.at rosiner, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 108: ‘Plato!’ sneered the P.B. ‘Did I hear the word Plato? That dirty little Borstal Boehme!’ That was a sockdologer for someone if you like.at sockdolager, n.
More Pricks than Kicks 240: So the night-nurse had split. The treacherous darling!at split, v.
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