Far fetched anecdotes of the sea.

[The Black Spot]

Arrrr Bart, that be a quite disgustin' an depraved tale, e'en by yer own pathetically low moral compass. Keep up the good work.

[black bart]

I only wish I'd included a Sperm Whale in there somewhere. Plenty of mileage in Knuckles O'Shuffle yet I feel.

[The Black Spot]

The Nameless Lurking Abomination From the Stars

by HP Hovercraft

It was during the course of my mathematical studies that I chanced upon Captain Willyum Bonney in the accursed rear chamber of that unspeakable eldritch establishment The Admiral Benbow.

My studies had led me to believe that certain dread passages in the fearful pages of the Necroplankicon could open dreadful passageways to the outer realms -- but only if one knew how to pronounce them.

I had spent years of toil working through those terrible pages -- even the briefest glance through those unspeakable stories invoked Azplankeroth, the bringer of comas -- and I had at last distilled what I believed to be the dreadful incantation that would open up terrifying vistas of an otherworldly reality. But how to prounounce these words? That was the question I was wrestling with, when I heard a voice at my shoulder.

"Arrrgh! Zit churrbee takkin?"

"Sorry?" I said. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Churr," said the stranger. "Izzit tekkin?"

I shook my head, bewildered.

"Churr!" he said pointing at the chair.

I was still unsure what this strange individual wanted, so I smiled and nodded at him. He immediately sat down and signalled for the landlord to come over.

"AAAAARRRGGGHHH Oi beaneeden er play terott grubb treet roitaway ana tankyarder groggter warshit daahn!"

Incredibly, the landlord nodded, scribbled something on his notepad, then hurried to the bar to carry out the order. I chased after him; "Heavens preserve us," I exclaimed. "Don't tell me you actually understood what that poor wretch was saying?"

"I'm afraid not, sir." replied the landlord. "That is Mad Willyum Bonney. Noone can make out what he's actually saying, but he always orders the same thing every day."

I returned to my seat, and was transfixed as a continuous stream of incomprehensibility issued forth from the strange pirate Captain. Unhuman, jaw breaking vowels and gutteral combinations of unutterable consonants flowed from his never empty well of eldritch meaning. A sudden thought grabbed me: perhaps here was the man who could pronounce the forbidden incantation! I thrust a parchment under his nose;

"My good man," I said. "Can you pronounce this word?"

"N'gfzq" said the Captain.

"And this?"

"Pt'anfzl"

My hands were shaking. "Please," I said. "Can you read this paragraph aloud?"

"Ia! Ia! Panzonn ffyre! Ick binnen e'yn burll'innarr! Cthulhu izza p'ahnzee..."

Suddenly, I felt at one with the cosmos. I joined Willyum Bonney in chanting the deadly syllables.

The room began to spin. I felt weightless, no longer tethered to the earth. Before me, a huge misshapen maw opened and expelled a warm liquid over me. I was being pulled to my feet by many hands, and I knew that my soul was lost for all time...

When I came to, I was in the gutter outside the Admiral Benbow covered with spew and with a fearful headache. I called to the landlord for assistance, but he leaned out of the window and said "Sling yer 'ook. I've never heard such a row as that singsong you an' Bonney was 'aving. And the mess ye made o' the toilets! Yer barred -- that's what yer get fer drinkin' with that mad bastid."

I got to my feet. The fools, I thought. They knew not the power that was unleashed in this establishment this very evening. I would find another tavern and continue my studies tomorrow.

[black bart]

I laughed and yet...I also experienced a shuddering down my spine thinking how near I have come to meeting the same end when talking to 'Phil' at the Turks Head.

[pieces o'nine]

A foine tale. I dint let me crewe reade hit alowd, though.

[black bart]

Ye Olde Bible

Marooooned...Maroooooooned!!!

Wot devilish luck ave brought me ere ter die all alone in me prime o loif wiv out a drop o grog!

I sobbed inta me tattered copy of thee bible wot I'd kept in me coat pocket in case of need...thee pages stuck together wiv, er, porridge,an thee cover pasted over wiv an image o Big Brenda...Brenda...how I missed her presence at this moment o despair

I tossed thee dry sand from me boots an looked around at my prison. Twere beautiful...a beautiful place ta die. I could at least read meself a yoologee from thee bible when me toim came...ere lies Black Bart, pour a drop o grog on his grave cos he died thirsty.

If onlee thee bible were a science book thinks I, it could ave thee secret of how ta convert sea water into fresh water or thee best way ta catch a fish for me dinner...or how ta make cheese! I'm too young ter die!

Wait a minute, thinks I, thee first chapter is about thee creashun of everything, there must be a bit where sea water gets turned into fresh water. Sure enuff, after wadin thru a load o crap about snakes (although there was nice pikturs an it made me look out fer thee liddle poisonous fellas) I came across some small print about usin two sealed bottles, fillin one wiv sea water, boilin it thru a pipe to create lovely fresh drinking water.

I sipped me water an read on. Bugger me, there's onlee a chapter about fishin. Thee general gist o fishin was there...first go near thee water.

A few hours later I was happilee slurpin on a bowl o fish head stoo. Wot a yewsful book says I ta thee piktur o Brenda...I don't suppose it shows ye how ta make grog...Bugger me...there's onlee a chapter on thee subject of turnin water into wine!!!

Again thee bible be a tad short on thee detail but generally ye fills yer jugs wiv water, froot an a spot o yeast, ye leaves it fer a few munths an ye ends up wiv quite a nice Beaujolais Nouveau.

I spent a pleasant 15 munths on me loverllee island, drinking an eatin me fill. No one to annoy me, gallons o Beaujolais, lashings o fish stoo...I was even bakin me own bread an buildin a shoppin mall by the end of the marooninashun.

I was eventually rescued by a boat of topless girls from thee nearby island of Boobyfannywatta...no coincidence, thee bible had taught me how to create a telegraph communicashun system and I'd soon set up a chat room with the local girls.

As we left the island I held the bible aloft to thank the heavens for my deliverance. A gust of wind blew the piktur of Big Brenda orf the cover revealin thee frontispiece...orv...'The Hencyclopaedia Britannica!'

Wot be thee chances orf that? Tis a miracle.

P.S. Don't try any of this at home.

[Griffin]

There ownlee bee wun thing wrong wiv this tale - I downt beleeve a word of it - no wun 'as books animoor. Nowif ye 'ad a Kindle.... it wuld be a different story.

[black bart]

Aaaargh thou art a right clever cloggs...but owe would I have stuck me piktur of Brenda on thee front of an unspecified hand held device!

[Griffin]

Oi beleeve this be Big Brendan, a relative o' Big Brendaaaaaaaaaagh, wot be decoratin' the screen protectoor. Oi can rekkemend Aaaaaargh! Bay fer h'an h'excelent choyce o' screen protectres wiv all yer favorait caracters fer yer unspecified hand held device. So Oi dunnknow wy ye fink ye canknot stikk yer pikktyer wear ye want.

[black bart]

...ahem...an how hexactlee would ye charge up this clever lookin piece o devilment on a DESERT ISLAND...miles from anywhere?

I wouldn't loik ta be marooned wiv thee loiks of Oskar Wilde anyway...just himagine the hendless witty ribbin I'd be gettin, day in day out...whilst I was goin about me honest Piratin...

"Ooh look it be it be thee hunspeakable in pursuit orf thee uneatable".

"There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying."

I tells ye I'd ave brained im wiv a coconut after a week!

[Griffin]

...ahem...an how hexactlee would ye charge up this clever lookin piece o devilment on a DESERT ISLAND...miles from anywhere?

....ahem...yer h'average desert island be surrounded by warter.

[black bart]

Ye'll ne'er get thee funding from thee council fer that!

[Griffin]

Oi thawt yer wer the cowncil. Oi culd swair ther wer a long battle o'er The Mayor witch got satsfactorrily resolved. Despite rumours of vote rigging (which I thort wer a ter do wiv ships, til I wer kindlee told different.)

[black bart]

I luvs these tales...I mean was there hever a more heloquent Pirate than wot set their thoughts down in blood on these ere pages?

[black bart]

I forgot to do an Xmas tale of Poverty and Debauchery!