As today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day (see here for info: http://www.talklikeapirate.com/howto.html) , I thought rather than let you read my blog, why not dig up a blog from the archive of my ancestor Capt Doobeard the Grotty and post that up instead. So in honour of those salty sea dogs here’s an excerpt from this day 545 years ago:
Ahoy there me diary. Today be another day onboard m’ pretty vessel the Jolly Diaaaarbetic as we sail onwards towaaaards the Meditaaaarrrrrranean Ocean aftaaaar paaaarssin’ through the Arrrrtlantic these paaaarst 3 months. Scrubbin’ must be done for the deck be lookin’ like one whiff could kill a Kraken, for the filth be worse than the bile from a bung hole. I be telling Roger the cabin boy that he be needin’ to crawl on his hands and knees to be proparrrly gettin’ it shiny, but ‘ee be sayin’ that on account o’ his name ‘ee be too afraid to make himself prone to a gropin’. I be understandin’ this. ‘Is name be unfortunate considerin’ his choice of caaaarreer, but he must remembaaaar he be no worse orf than our sea buddy Able Seaman Drinker. ‘Ee be one unlucky seadog. Once the ship be as clean as a dairy faaaaarmer’s daughta’, then we be orf to get celebratin’ the birthday of our former Gunner, Master Wandless who sadly had to be leavin’ us when he lost a leg during a battle ‘gainst some landlubber who be catchin’ ‘im with his missus who’d bin smartly blowing on Wandless’s ‘ornpipe. After that o’course we found that landlubber and strung him up by his long johns till the vultures pecked out his eyes. Arhahahhahahah! Even with one leg, Gunner Mat be a jolly fellaaaaar, now biding ‘is time in the port of Crouch End, which be where we sail now in the hopes of some grog and merriment this fine evenin’.
Sailin’ be takin’ longer than it should on accounts of losin’ more or me crew yesterday. Darren of Brown persuaded many o’ tha boys he could be stickin’ them to their stools using some series of pictures. He alwas be playing his tricks that one and I for a long time now been suspiciaaarse that he be a witch o’some sorts, but me good lady Laaarlaaarr be sayin’ I must leave ‘im be. Well his own fate befall ‘im now. For last night he sat down the boys and started with some tricks whereby he guessed what numbers they be thinkin’, then knew that One-Eyed Jim be wantin’ to be gettin’ a giraffe called Frank. This left many in shock and curious by how this head trickery be happenin’. But they was enjoyin’ themselves and so gasps and cheers of more did ‘appen. Then, the most curious occurances did be. Brown showed them these pictures and a few said they had a head so fuzzy but they all did still move off their seats like they could on any day ‘cept those after an eve on the grog. There were yells and shouts calling Darren a ‘natterin’ black spotted swabbie’ and a ‘barnacle covered gutless rogue’ for his tricks did not work. Then just as Fighty Sampson be about to knock Brown about the head with the blunt side o’ ‘is scabbard, then we did all turn to see Pox-Faced Georgie struggling to ‘scape his chair. He squirmed and squirmed but he be stuck to his seat like a squid to the face of a wet whore. The boys did rush over to try and get ‘im out, but remained steadfast, and Brown was forced to turn back his evils and get Georgie out, but try as he might the boy stayed on his aaaarsse. Well we got no use for a man who can’t be standin’. How can he be fightin’ off the King’s men while weak kneed and sittin’? So we did what all good pirates would do for a pal and threw Georgie and ‘is chair into the ocean to be gobbled up by the sharks. We then told Darren the Brown ‘ee must walk the plank too, for his witchery be never used again, ‘is blood is that o’ evil. Scabby Arnold took the witch to tha plank but instead of pushin’ him orf, instead he threw ‘is scabby self right off and into the gobblin’ teeth of a great white. This be the curse of satan that that Brown ‘ave so we let ‘im stay for fear any more of us be going swimmin’ ‘gainst our will.
Less crew means more supplies for me, Larrlarr and the few bilge rats left aboard and once the Jolly Diarrrbetic be cleans, then we can gorge our faces on sea bass and drink rum till the ‘morrow. I only hopes we find treasure in the month of Octobaaaarrrrr or that sea bass will dwindle and I’ll be havin’ to ask Darren to be gettin’ rid o’ more men sometime soon.
Capt Doobeard The Grotty
So there you go. Seems times were very different back them, If there is enough demand I will post more of his adventures on other days where I haven’t really got much else to blog about.
As a post note here’s an interview I did in Edinburg about interviews:
Now away with ye, ye bunch o’ barnacle covered, bilge drinkin’, black-spotted, scrappy natterin’ cowardly rogues! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!