All hope abandon yon landlubbers what read this blog, for on this day we ‘ave unleashed our inner buccaneer and ‘ave embraced the life of pirates bold with gay abandon, ‘aha Jim Lad.
Breakfast twas a salty affair, a vertiable feast of sea biscuits and grog (or to translate ….. two ryvitas, two Dairy Lea triangles with marmite, washed down our lusty gullets with tea with milk and two sugars), aha, aha, aha. Twas jolly grub and sated our pirate hunger well, served straight from our bung hole to our chum buckets, aha, aha,aha.
We ‘ave a day mapped out for pirate debauchery, aha. We will dance round our horn pipes, force Lucy to walk the gang plank, in her nightie, over the fish pond and plunder any treasure chests we may chance upon (including the fridge).
We couldn’t get a parrot at such short notice but found a trusty seagull instead and ‘ave called ‘im Roger.
Darrell keeps on giggling when he tries to say “Come up and see my urchins, be’gorra, be’gorra” – I ‘ave told ‘im that pirates don’t giggle and that his laughter should come from the very bowels of his belly and send the shivers up everyone's timbers, but alas he is a lost cause, because me saying that only makes him giggle even more.
We are also going forgo our daily rations of fruit and vegetables (our 5 a day), so that we can experience the misery of scurvy at first hand (but we will be monitored carefully by a team of medical experts or Bones as we pirates call ‘em. Should our rude health deteriorate to a dangerous and life threatening level, orange squash and a banana will be administered to us straight away).
We will leave you with this one thought to ponder, as we prepare to spice the fish paste …….”Dead men……. tell no tales …..” be’gorra, be’gorra, be’gorra!
…… pillage and plunder is not really my behaviour of choice …..