Dear Auntie Blackbeard... Yer piratical problems solved here

[amenabletopasta]

Dear Aunty,
I has a friend what fancies his cabin boy but he be too coy like to approach the subject directly. This friend of mine also as a penchant for wearing a oomans undies beneath his Pirate Attire. If the men should ever find out this friend of mine would likely get marooned on Canvey Island.

What should I do dear Aunty?

Arrr! Oi reckons ye...Oi means ye're friend...should just come out o' Davy Jones' closet. Oi've got a friend who 'as done just that, and 'e be finding that most o' his ship-mates be the same as 'im.

And FSM be likin' flimsy morals o' all sorts. :fsm_touching:

[beagle]

Dear Auntie,

I has a friend who met a swab in a tavern who had a pirate friend who had a terrible compulsion. He were getting an overwhelming urge to chuck in pirating once and fer all, and become a chartered accountant in Godalming. He be longing for a life of tedium, 2.2 children at private school, and a Volvo estate.
If this ever gets out he'll be ruined. What should I<ctrl-h> he do?

Arrrr.

[The Black Spot]

Dear Auntie,

I has a friend who met a swab in a tavern who had a pirate friend who had a terrible compulsion. He were getting an overwhelming urge to chuck in pirating once and fer all, and become a chartered accountant in Godalming. He be longing for a life of tedium, 2.2 children at private school, and a Volvo estate.
If this ever gets out he'll be ruined. What should I<ctrl-h> he do?

Not to worry lad.

I's be thinking that your shipmate's friend's acquaintance be alright. Chartered accountants be scheming, lying, cheating, thieving bastids. They've depleted many a man's treasure.

Thinking o' becoming a chartered accountant crosses most pirate's minds occasionally.

[The Black Spot]

Dear Auntie,

I's be having problems wi' me protocols.

When ye's captured a fine vessel, as often as not there's a lord on board. Now, what be the correct form of address when ye's holding a knife to 'is throat?

[beagle]

Dear Auntie,

I's be having problems wi' me protocols.

When ye's captured a fine vessel, as often as not there's a lord on board. Now, what be the correct form of address when ye's holding a knife to 'is throat?

Be that Lords Spiritual or Lords Temporal matey? An be it Hereditary or Life peers?
With the hereditary ones there be an extra threat yer can levy.

[black bart]

I's be having problems wi' me protocols.

I had trouble with me 'protocols' an all me hearty - I found a course of leeches did the trick! I be walking and swaggering much better since then.

[teripie]

Dear Auntie Blackbeard,
Be it true wot they say 'bout the size o' a pirate's parrot corresponds directly with tha height o' his boot heel?

Signed,
Prefers Spikes

[beagle]

Dear Auntie,

I's be having problems wi' me protocols.

When ye's captured a fine vessel, as often as not there's a lord on board. Now, what be the correct form of address when ye's holding a knife to 'is throat?

Oi looked it up in Debrett's Modern Pirate Etiquette. A simple "My Lord" will suffice, but the knife should be 'allmarked London silver (EPNS or silver plate would be a social gaffe of huge proportions), and you should be sure to have taken yer breath mint.

Yarr.

[beagle]

Dear Auntie Blackbeard,
Be it true wot they say 'bout the size o' a pirate's parrot corresponds directly with tha height o' his boot heel?

Signed,
Prefers Spikes

Dear Prefers,

It were true during the Glam-Rock era, but so many pirates toppled into the bilge that the practice a wearing huge boots were ended by the Health & Safety Executive under The Pirate Booty rules (1677).

[DaveL]

Dear Aunty Blackbeard

Me favourite first mate has found the Lord, followin a trip to see the missionaries off the Cape of Good Hope. It be very sad, as he was the greatest rum drinkin wench chasin rascal this side of the Antipodes.

Me and the lads have tried to cure him, including danglin him off the Crows Nest and makin him walk the plank, but he appears to have lost his mind.

Can you suggest any ways of curin him, for he be truly lost!

[black bart]

He'll be beggin' yer to take him back w'tin a fortnight.

By the FSM he be tougher than a Bucket full of Barnacles if he lasts that long!!!

[beagle]

Dear Auntie Blackbeard,

I's a bit worried I might have formed an unwise alliance. I's only a second rate pirating power so it seemed like a good idea to be a-teamin up with this huge pirating organisation we've got historical links with. Now their pirate chief has started gettin messages from God to go and delve in the Middle Orient, jest in case they's hiding a few cannons, and it be costing me a fortune in gold trying to stop the locals from slaughterin us and each other. Half me crew thinks I'm off me trolley, and the bloke in the next cabin be scheming to take me job off me. I were hopin to get captaincy of yet a third piracy outfit across the channel, but they're in an even more awful mess, after two of their ships broke rank and stopped takin orders. On top of it all Mrs captain has bought an house, the mortgage of which me memoirs won't be racy enough to pay fer.
Wot does yer advise?

Yarrr.

[The Black Spot]

Arr...

Sorry matey, but ye best resign yer captaincy immediately, afore the fleet mutinies. Ye still have a few o'the town criers on yer side, so I says ye best abscond to the big pirate organisation, where ye can pick up a chestload of dubloons like Iron Anne Bonney did. Let the swab in the next cabin try to explain where all yer treasure's gone.

Oh, and the missus should be sent down the plank immediately.

[beagle]

Dear Auntie Blackbeard,

Yarr, Many moons ago, arter a special good party, I's dropped a few swabs off on a little island miles from anywhere. When I sobered up, I's forgot all about them. Now they's bred like rabbits and there are billions of the blighters, asking awkard questions about where they came from. Should's I tell em it were all a joke, or leave 'em to get on with it?

[beagle]

Do they have any cash you could take off them in tribute?

Other valuables?

If nay, leave them be.

Nah, theys spends most of their time beating the hell out of each other an arguing over what I's like. So far no-ones got close. Yarr.