The Great Pirate Insult Challenge

[Ravi Oli]

Arrrggghhhh thee Winta Westerlies 'ave frozen yer ^ brayn as well as thee bawls off yer brass monkie.

[Moind yu, 'tis nort a lot warmer 'ere on thee Sunny Coast. Oi be ov thee opinyun 'tis Melbourne weatha awl thee migratin' Mexicans 'ave brung North wiv them.]

[skyweir]

Ah, 'tud 'splain whye thee 24 pounder 'as two extra rounds o' ammunytyon. 'Tis chille fo' yer shyppe also? Mebbe yer should count ther rounds fer ther BB gun...


(aye, the breeze her is southerly, suggestin' the cold heart o' the lower latitudes as the culprit)

[black bart]

Arrrgh, I'd slap ye wiv a halibut if it wasn't crueltee against thee fish.

[skyweir]

T'is nae why ye wouldna- ye'r be too busy rushin' its head to the pot, fer ter poison yer crue.

[Roland Deschain]

Ye wield thy tongue as if it were a sledgehammer.

[Ravi Oli]

Aye ^ 'tis a ladd takes arfter ye... suttle as a poke in yer oiye wiv a sharpe sticke.

[Roy Hunter]

Subtlety, you say? From a man whose idea of foreplay is "Y'awake, Sheila?"

[black bart]

Yarr I've heard it all now and that comin from a Scottish Pyrate wiv nothin worn under thee kilt...even after a Keel Haulin!

[pieces o'nine]

Yarrrgh; yer crewe larfs at ye fer thee crooel an hunyooshhall punishment ov eel callin.

[black bart]

Arrrrrrgh...Ye has a woman's knorks! I'll wager them knorks ave never been squeezed between thee planks of a shyppe ta stop her sinkin!

(that's it I've gone too far this time...I'm performin a self bannination!)

[pieces o'nine]

Arrrrrgh, ye be a pyrate ov one joke, but we lives in 'ope that wot ye arrrgh pleased t'call yer moinde can hencompass a newe one.

[DavidH]

It can't get any worse, but knor kan we expect much better.

[Ravi Oli]

Oi gess we carnt bee hexpectin' two much frum a cross betwixt a knork an' a 3-toed gobblin'...

[Almighty Doer of Stuff]

Arrrgh, Oi thot that Oi were following a treasure map wot I found on thee beach, a long-lost relic o' legend sunk in the sea millennia ago wot serposedly led to a larrrrge chest full o' preshus metals an' stones, crowns an' figurines, an' even a bejeweled cutlass wielded by thee first midgit, wot the FSM buried on the slopes of thee Beer Volcano an' forgot where he put it 'cause he were plastered. Oi thought Oi had found the hidden path to Heaven wot were serposedly created by thee FSM in case he passed out with the sink running and flooded the world, sose we could get to Heaven an' turn it off. Oi were ekstatic!

But then Oi looked up an' found meself in Kentucky. Oi said, "Wot thee ****?" an' then I took another look at me serposed treasure map.

To me dismay, Oi realized Oi had no map, but rather, Oi was draggin' ye ^ around an' the Beer Volcano were akchuwally just a huge, festering boil on yer face! Ye had passed out on the beach from drinkin' too much vodka (Vodka! What kind of pirate drinks vodka?! Yer, if ye can even call yerself a pirate, ye swab!) an' Oi found ye there an' yer face were so broken out an' scruffy that Oi thought ye were a map! No wonder thee map felt so heavy, ye fat tub o' bilgewater!

[Ravi Oli]

^ Ye art well ovadew fer new spectercals coz ye awlso mistook this fer the Long-winded Tale thread.