Far fetched anecdotes of the sea.

[black bart]

Aaarrrgh I loves thee Muppets...it always remoinds me of me crew.

Roland your tale be fit for thee Necroplankecon itself...I think that be a compliment but I aint sure.

Here it be hincase ye aint set eyes on thee most feared book in Pirate lore before:

[Roland Deschain]

Yaaarrrggghhh! Oi be moightily honoured ter have me tale featured in thee-book-that-shall-not-be-named, Black Bart. Words cannot describe the shivers that go down me timbers when oi think o' that book. Oi remember seein' it in yer video ye posted afore oi started me tale. Most o' me tale were written while oi be sleep deproived, ter capture thee authenticity o' it.

[Errol_Fin]

Most o' me tale were written while oi be sleep deproived, ter capture thee authenticity o' it.

That's ironic if ever a shark's heard irony!

I was once on the point of eating 'Walktheplank' himself after he fell over board as a result o wearin a particularly huge wig wot overbalanced him...

Just as I opened me jaws to chomp im he put into play his emergency cunning plan wot consisted of readin one of his Tales...I woke up three weeks later on a Japanese Whaler an narrowly hescaped endin up as sushi!

[black bart]

The Dust of Doom

Aaarrgh it had ta happen heventuallee...some poor sod attempted ta change Nef Yoo's Diaper an released a toxic cloud wot hengulfed first Portsmouth an then the hentire continent.

I found meself grounded an me wiv an himportant meeting wiv none other than Don Tabasco of Spain...he aint someone ye says no to or ye be loiklee ta foind an horses head in yer hammock!

Anyway as luck had it the Royal Navy were runnin shyppes out of Portsmouth to elp stranded Britons back from the incontinent. Wiv all haste I smuggled meself aboard thee Ark Royal dressed as a Jolly Jack Tar an orf we went.

I must say Her Majesty's shyppes be right comfy wiv flushin toilets, four bars, two restaurants (all serving curry) and 24 hour sea shanty entertainment. Everything went well and within the month I had concluded my business wiv Don Tabasco (he'll be sendin his usual consignment of bull fighters to thee political debates at the Admiral Benbow in return for a steady supply of Fish Head Stew to his enemies) and I was back on board thee Ark Royal for the return voyage.

Everything went well until one night I over did it on thee Navy Rum and started singing 'Fifteen men on a dead man's chest' an started doin my himpression o Long John Silver an shoutin 'Thems that die will be thee lucky ones!'
The Captain got called to the scene an I couldn't resist givin him me best Long John Silver sideways mutinous look.

I be writin this from me prison cell at Exekushun Dock wiv a piece o charcoal made from the burnt remains o me peg leg! If only I'd a listened to Long Jock Roy McHunter...if onlee we hadn't tried ta change Nef Yoo's Diaper...if onlee me mummy hadn't a sold me to Blackbeard when I wuz four...if onlee I'd a stayed put as a Marks and Spencer Warehouse boy and not become a Madame Fifi's Whorehouse boy! How am I goin ta get to me trial now I've burned me peg leg? These and many other questions may never be answered...unless....

...There's a really old man in the cell wiv me...he be quite near ta death (If I've got anything ta do wiv it)...they puts the dead bodies into sacks an throw them into the sea...I have a cunnin plan...

[pieces o'nine]

Me croo be on thee hedges ov theyre hamucks, Bart!

[black bart]

Me croo be on thee hedges ov theyre hamucks, Bart!

Aye well...as ye knows I always makes sure ta finish orf me serialisashuns...

Jane Austin had more stayin power than me though.

I must try ta write a really depressin Thomas Hardy style Tale...The Pyrate of Casterbridge?

Pyrate sells orf his cabin boy at a fair.
Goes on to become mayor of Portsmouth etc etc

Brenda of the Durbervilles

[pieces o'nine]

Thee Forchunes & Misforchunes
ov thee Faymus
Moll Flanders
Wot were Born in Portsmuff, an durin a Loife ov continu'd Variety fer Threescorrrgh Yarrrghs,
besoides 'er Choildoode, were Twelve Yarrrgh at Madame Fifi's,
foive toimes a Wench (wareov once t'er owne Cap'n), Twelve Yarrrgh a Pirate,
Eight Yarrrgh a Transported Felon in Osstrayleeyah,
at last grue Riche, liv'd Honest, an dyed a Penitent.
Transcroibed from 'er owne Logs . . . by
Daniel Defoe
Fus publish'd 1722

[black bart]

Arrgh I knew Moll when she were but a slip o a wench a workin at thee Benbow as a Match girl...who would ave thought she would have grown up ta be an onest ooman?

[black bart]

Aaargh this could be thee most Far fetched annecdote so far:

Contact made wiv long lost Pyrate 'Walktheplank"!

Such a day, rum all out, crew revoltin...

We were sailin uncharted waters orf thee coast o thee deserted French island of Livrevisage (roughlee translated as Facebook) when thee lookout spotted a smoke signal, followed by a tiny figure in a huge wig semaphorin us wiv multi coloured coconuts...thee message read:

"send elp, marooned, last wig threadbare, ink running out, Walktheplank"

We signaled back: "What does ye mean, ink runnin out?"

Planky replies: "have had nothin to do for two years but shag goats and write Long Winded Tales"

We sailed away wivout him...two years worth of Long Winded Tales!!!...it makes me shudder just to think of it.

[pieces o'nine]

Yarrrgh! Ye narrawly missed a dangerous landfall theyre, Bart!

[Ubi Dubius]

Yarrrr. Bart, shouldn't ye 'ave saved the goats?

[black bart]

Yarrrr. Bart, shouldn't ye 'ave saved the goats?

I fink he's eaten em...either that or they were all hidin in terror of avin anuvver story read to them!!

[black bart]

Yarrgh me publishers ave written ta me wiv a most threatenin letter:

Bill Caxton and sons and sons
16 Gibbet Lane
The Isle of Dogs
Londonne

Dear Cap'n Black Bart

I trust you are well and free of scurvy and such like. We write to you with reference to the publication of your serialised novel Pride and Predjewdice and Pirates. As you are aware Part thee Thyrde was published quite some time ago upon whyche we advanced you thee sum of 4000 Cronans in anticipation of the delivery of the Fourth installment. As no such installment has arrived at our premyces we herebye inform you that unless this edition is delivered by the end of Julye we shalle be forced to ask you for a full refund of said monies.

Get on wyth it yew blaggard!

Yours

Jeremiah Caxton


GULP!

I can't even remember what the story was about as I wrote it in thee back room snug o thee Benbow...after two days on thee Rum. There be onlee one recourse...sufferin barnacles from hell...I'll have ta read a Jane Austin book!!!!!

[pieces o'nine]

Mr. Caxton: Oh, Captain Black Bart, why are you not writing? - Sons, allow me to present this old pyrate to you as a very undesirable client. You cannot refuse to write, I am sure, when so much publishing weight is before you.

black bart: Yarrrgh, Sirs, oi has not thee leaste hintenshun ov wroitin. Pleese don' hasoome that oi moved this way t'beg fer moor hadvance dubloons.

Mr. Caxton & Sons: I would be very happy if you'd do me the honour of completing Part thee Forth, Captain Black Bart.

black bart: Fank ye, ye welkum, but... oi be ... not hincloined ter wroite.

[black bart]

I be alf way through thee Mill on the Floss afore me First Mate tells me...it aint by Jane Awstin!!!!

Why in thee name o Neptun's Aunty anyone frem Hingland thought writin about Piano Forties an Water Mills ud be hexitin...bless me if I knoes!!!