Ahoy, Mateys!

Once upon a toime, two foine lubbers decreed that a day o’ the year would be put asoide, nay, dedicated, to Talkin’ like a Pirate. Aye.

In honor o’ these foine men and their labors, I’m incloined to participate. Yar.

Fer starters, these blokes were wily enough to contact Mr. Dave Barry, a foiner man never sat before a keyboard to make me laugh ‘til me sides ached, sure ‘n it’s true.

Sure ‘n I’m glad to be fully endowed with all me arms and legs and such, otherwoise raisin’ a hand in clappin’ fer them moight just cause me to stab me hand. Brilliant waste o’ toime that it be, certs.

If’n there’s toime (and sure’n there’s naught) I moight pop in Pirates o’ the Caribbean tonoight, followin’ rehearsal fer the foine foine show on its way to our shores, Book o’ Days. Yar.

Aye, tis a pity I’ve no lass to share the piratey day wit’. It’s been too long since I’ve shivered a timber. Or perhaps I’ve gone and shared too much information wit’ ya. Sure an’ it’s the Rum talkin’.

What’re ye scurvy dogs lookin’ at?! Back ta yer chores, avast!


“…really bad eggs…”