Ahoy me hearties, pull up a seat, pour yerself a tot o’ rum and listen as yer captain tells ye what he has been about of late.
Last Thursday ’twas my birthday and me landlubbing brother sent me gifts (arrr, I know what ye be thinking, he not be wanting me to plunder his scurvy souled town, and I be thinking that ye ‘ave a point). He sent me the latest collection of shanties by a fine lusty lass and a tall tale of a comedian in the arms trade. I be liking both gifts, though I must confess the whole idea of selling arms perplexes me. Why sell them when ye can use them to plunder more booty instead?
Over the weekend, the ship needed some repairs - the mass of booty plundered was becoming too great and so with much ingenuity on the part of our swedish carpenters we now be having a fine set of bookshelves to be a berth to it all.
This week I pressgang’d me first mate into helping me plunder the vaults o’ London. Arrrrrr! I also be on the look out for a new hand and been holding interviews for a suitable seadog.
Avast, I must be to sea. Fair seas to ye all and see ye at the appointed hour next year. Harrrrrrr!
silly