Hey you slackers - guess what today is? Hint: Aaaarrgg!
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Aye, it's Talk Like a Pirate Day again, you scurvy dogs. Get with the program!!
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Don't have a clue...but sail away Silver !
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Arrrr... Wankin' Ross Drake here! Which of ye is ready ta walk da plank?
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Arrrgh. Cap'n Bob Hatchetback here. Me be thinking everyday should be talk like a pirate day. Arrrgh...where that wench be at?
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arghhh, what are ye scurvy dogs gonna be drinkin on this fine night? a flagon of ale for me.
(can you say anything meaningful in pirate talk? seems surprisingly difficult to me.)
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Say, has anyone seen my parrot?
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Damnations, can it really be 18 score days and 7 since me profession's last national holiday and a hard-working speculator and collector like meself could hang up his cutlass and flintlock for a day? Sadly tis not the same as it was; just a fortnight ago while boarding one of our "suppliers" me quartermaster lost a leg and was blinded in one eye, while me second mate lost two fingers and six crew were burned- then they had the damned audacity to accuse me of breeching "Health and Safety at Work", the mutinous dogs!
Worse still Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs are more determined than ever; October be almost upon us meaning a travelling businessman like meself must sit down on his only holiday to put quill to paper and present an inventory of me gains and losses for Her Majesty's scrutiny: a so-called Self Assessment Tax Form. I tells ye, it's no mean feat keeping track of me dubloons, for be they buried near and far, but worry not, a good portion are sealed in tarred water-tight chests buried a few hundred yards out to sea in sand banks so there'll be no levy paid on them..... it's called off-shore banking.... arrrrghhhhhhh me hearties!
Barkess the Carcass
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I too am burdoned with the cursed tax return.
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