…ooh, how we laughed. It weren’t so much the puddle that made us laugh, but what went in it. She were stood with ‘er back to it, and me, I were face on. It ‘ad stopped rainin’ about an ‘our ago an’ there were about three others inth’ queue beyind. We could see th’bus comin’ over th’brow, but none of us saw th’lorry trundle rarndth corner. It’s them pot ‘ole’s faults. Fancy one bein’ by th’bus stop. Anyway, th’lorry’s wheel went right through th’ole, splashed th’puddle all over th’five of us in th’queue. She took the brunt. The brunt. She were saturated. Saturated, right through to ‘er smalls. I copped it all down one side, and th’others in th’queue caught the muddy splashes. The man width’ paper had to throw it away, it tore right through it. ‘E chuckled first. Then me. Then she started. Before long, we were all ‘owlin’. Like I said, it weren’t th’puddle that tickled us, but th’lorry.  The man width’ paper pointed out what were on th’side: ‘sure to keep you dry longer’. An’ the bus just sailed passed. Out of service. That really set us off…

Eight under two ‘undred words. There we go.