This Merchant Navy training ship broke a few hearts but we Scousers did have advantages over lesser beings. Growing boys, we were all on starvation rations so breakfast, weevils included as part of the fresh meat portion, was eagerly looked forward to.
Alas! There were more bums than seats so there were two sittings. Happily the officer usually in charge of the meal arrangements was a Scouser. He perched at the top of the ship's gangway and would holler along the miserable queues of boys. "Anyone from Liverpool, get up here first."
Brilliant. As each approached he would ask, "Where you from, son?"
Each would reply his location: Dingle, Walton Vale, Bootle, Garston . . . . You couldn't kid him. He would ask you if you knew where such and such a place was; places only Scousers would know. You would then get the nod and in you would go, famished.
I lived in Waterloo and knowing that it didn't quite qualify as Liverpool I lied and said, 'Knowsley Road, sir."
"Tell me some local roads."
"Linacre Lane, Hornby Boulevard, by the North Park, sir." (ha-ha).
My brummie mate, after a little coaching from me, tried it on. He didn't get far. With an accent like his?