Somebody recently gave me crap about my Cornish accent. Oi haeppen ta think itz maervelus moiself sew screow yoou. I was regaling him with my fabulous Pirate Poem at the time so now I shall force it on the Hot Pink Massive as well.


Only stipulation is that you must go ARRRRRRRRRRR after each verse as if you were as salty a sea-dog as Lot's Wife. (Wanky obscure Bible Trivia there, hehehe what a tawt.)


OH that's right, I have a fab old column all about Pirates because on September 19th it's
International Talk Like a Pirate Day!


You have to cast your mind back to Don Brash's philandering ways when he had two wenches on the go at once but I'm sure you'll manage.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!


Tuesday is International Talk Like a Pirate Day! AAARRRRRRRRR!

So ye may notice a few words slip past ye salty dogs that wouldn’t make sense any other day but on this day make parrrrrfect sense.

OK, now that we’ve cleared that up…..Why do pirates always carry soap? SO if they get swept away they can wash themselves ashore.

AAAARRRRR-hahahahahahaha

But really I’m wanting to talk politics with ye scurvy ridden parrot lovers. More specifically hideous mental images that are pervading the news and are worse than a syphilitic barnacle on the arse of Mary Louise the fat wench from Upper-Twaddle-on-Rye-Bread.

Personally I don’t give a maggoty rat what politicians do with their pork sausage or Cornish pasties, as long as gays can marry and no one blows their infernal tobaccy in my good eye. But all this reporting of it is turning my gills as green as Black Dog Bitch’s amputated toe.

Speaking of tobaccy why didn’t the pirate smoke? Because he had a patch!

AAAARRRRR-hahahahahahaha

If I have to imagine Captain Don Juan Brash in a clinch with anymore exotic lasses from the East or Mistresses of the Round Table then frankly I’m going to lose my pig intestines braised in rum and Frenchman’s bile on the poop deck faster than you can say “Is that a canon or are you just pleased to see me.”

But what I find most unbelievable about this whole mess of cats guts, is that there are two wenches in the land that want to fire his canon in the first place. I know some say power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, but even if he were clothed in Johhny Depp (AARRRR) I’d still know he was under there and walk the plank rather than show him my treasure chest.

Incidentally did you hear about the Pirate Movie? It was rated…. ARRRRRRR!

AAAARRRRR-hahahahahahaha

Also making me blood curdle is that according to a National MP it’s good Don is rooting about as it means he’s a red blooded male. I’d like to see if he’d say that about a female MP or just call her a harloty jezebel with legs easier to spread than the grease of a spitroasted mongoose. Somehow I think so.

ARRRRRRRRRRR well I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised at Don’s latest affair coz as they say; “When a man marries his mistress, he creates a job vacancy.” I just thought the job market would have been closed for the barnacled baldy and that a comb over, even on a pirate, would only ever attract the likes of Bleeding-Eyes-Bette, who hasn’t seen a thing since the octopus.

Just goes to show, I don’t always know everything, but I do know what Captain Hook died of………..Jock Itch!

AAAARRRRR-hahahahahahaha

The Pirate Poem

I want to be a pirate
And Sail the Seven Seas
And have a name like Black Dog Bitch
And say “A-hoy me hearties”

I want to have a gang
Of fearsome buxom trollops
Who’d cook a mean Cajun stew
With body parts and scallops

For my obnoxious drunk behaviour
I’d finally have an excuse
With a quick grope of the codpiece being
an acceptable way to seduce

But if Roger’s Jolly was crap
If his love techniques stank
There’d be no phoney phone numbers
Just a wee quick walk of the plank

And I’d never have to worry
About being overweight
With a constant diet of tuna and rice
Perfecting my Piece of Eight

My Pirate garb would reek style
Frilled shirt of blood red claret
And every day I’d accessorise
With a different coloured parrot

Then I’d tragically lose one hand
And replace it a hook
Which would mean I’d never lose my keys
Always knowing where to look

I’d be squalid, filthy and coarse
Dirty, nasty, deranged
I’d say the most disgusting things
So I guess there, not much would change

But my skin would always be radiant
A pirate queen sensation
With an endless supply of spirulina
And sea-salt exfoliation

And though in a different form
Men would continue to quest
For the glorious elusive contents of
My Golden Treasure Chest

But I fear I never will be
The Terror of the Pacific
For no matter how good I’d look in the hat
I get catastrophically seasick.


Black Dog Bitch, Jim the Cabin Boy and Captain Bad Wig