Far fetched anecdotes of the sea.

[pieces o'nine]

In the Ocean o'Sand, a horbull beast like 'at woulda kilt 'em...

[Auntie Blackbeard]

I loves yer new Gyptshun head gear PON...but ye forgot thee beard.

[pieces o'nine]

Ackshewly, oi 'as a cabbin bouy t'ware hit for me...

[black bart]

Arrgh It just goes ta show these Long Winded Tales are all based on facts...thee legend o Cronan, thee voyages o Black Bart and o course the story of Moby Dick

[DavidH]

And this story as well, of course.

[black bart]

let me at im wiv an arpoon...the days o Fish Head stoo will be over!

[DaveL]

YArrr....

It be a Kraken, minus the tentacles.

[Ravi Oli]

...the story of Moby Dick

Pollard gave up whaling and became a night watchman in Nantucket, Massachusetts.

ARRRRRRRRRR! There truly be such place of legend?

Moby Duck. Oi near drowned troiyin' to escape when me own duckie fell in the tub...

[black bart]

It was a dark an stormy night and as luck would have it, me crew had been carried orf by Sea Eagles. These massive flying bastards had swooped down just after 8 bells and, one by one, me croo disappeared into the dark.

Come to think of it, a lot of strange things ave hocurred after I've drunk 8 bells.

[Ravi Oli]

Come to think of it, a lot of strange things ave hocurred after I've drunk 8 bells.

Aye bart... Oi hear'd blind ol' Missus McGillicuddy thawt ye wert thee milco's float an' chased ye fer a point o'milk an' sum creem fer 'er scones.

[black bart]

Arrgh...I'd keep yer love o scones an tea ta yerself matey...tis an unyewsewall taste fer a pirate.

(psst...be thar Cornish Cotted Cream an Raspberry jam?)

[pieces o'nine]

'E moight 'ave ... lifted 'em ... orf RRR wen thee Whistlin Teakettle were droppin' hinto port this week.

[black bart]

'E moight 'ave ... lifted 'em ... orf RRR wen thee Whistlin Teakettle were droppin' hinto port this week.

Aarrgh by the pillars o Hercules, that rascal be back pedlin his eastern brew!

[Ravi Oli]

Arrrr I be a real connosure... I takes me tea bagged an' me coffee instant.

[black bart]

The Curse of The Shrunken Head

Yarrgh this reminds me of a tale o long ago when me (The Black Spot at yer service) and thee croo used ta frequent a dark and dingy little Inn tucked away in thee back streets.

Twere called 'The Shrunken Head' and it was rumoured ta be haunted.

It weren't a bad place for a drop o grog but thee landlord kept a hideous shrunken head on a mount above thee bar which used ta put me right orf me vittles. Ye could feel the sockets of it's eyes watchin ye as ye supped yer grog and ye'd end up gettin a bit of a shiver.

Anyway, one day I was sittin in me usual corner, wiv a bottle o grog, when a dark fellar covered in tattoos comes in, sets his eyes on thee shrunken head and starts wailing some mumbo jumbo and pointing at the head shouting: WHANAUNGA! WHANAUNGA!

When we managed to calm him down he told us his name was Squeegyquog and that the head belonged to his brother Charlie. He begged us to let him take it back home to New Zealand. The landlord, Jim, wasn't too happy about this, 'how can you run an inn called The Shrunken Head if it aint got a Shrunken Head?' he pointed out. Squeegyquog uttered an oath and told us that the head was bad luck and would bring a curse down on Jim but Jim would have none of it, even though we pointed out that in recent months his wife had left him, his kids had disowned him, he'd lost all his money in game of poker with me, his leg had been crushed by a barrel of rum, his cat ginger had died, his goldfish Timmy had fallen in the Fish Head Stew and the entire Inn had dry rot.

Things might have gone ill for Jim if I hadn't a come up with a cunning plan. We got my ship's carpenter to whittle an exact likeness of the head out of solid mahogany and placed it on the shelf above the bar…you couldn't tell the difference, apart from the smell. Squeegyquog lifted the curse and with a 'E noho ra' he took his brother's head and departed for the Southern Seas with a general invitation for us all to pop round for a Barbie in the summer.

Two weeks later a Welsh bloke came into the Shrunken Head, pointed at the wooden head above the bar and shouted "Mummy!'