When visiting Bath, UK this week, I was waiting for my wife and daughter outside the cathedral. A women, clearly a grandmother, stood behind a pram across the walk from me. I was taking in her cockney accent. A man working the sanitation in the area approached pushing a bin on wheels. The old women said “Mistuh, are ye movin’ that bin ere?”
“Yes,” he said, in local Somerset accent. “Well we beh-uh move, else we’ll get mojo’d ovuh,” she said.
I’d never heard this term used as a verb like that.
“Mojo’d” he repeated, with amusement, as if it was new to him as well.
When visiting Bath, UK this week, I was waiting for my wife and daughter outside the cathedral. A women, clearly a grandmother, stood behind a pram across the walk from me. I was taking in her cockney accent. A man working the sanitation in the area approached pushing a bin on wheels. The old women said “Mistuh, are ye movin’ that bin ere?”
“Yes,” he said, in local Somerset accent. “Well we beh-uh move, else we’ll get mojo’d ovuh,” she said.
I’d never heard this term used as a verb like that.
“Mojo’d” he repeated, with amusement, as if it was new to him as well.