From the report of Captain Dick Jerker, of the New York City Police Department:

I ordered my men to continue firing upon the pirate ship ‘The Hairy Clam‘ that was advancing onto US shores, until I saw the vessel rocked with explosions and saw it sink beneath the waves, no doubt taking it’s criminal pirate crew with it.

As we celebrated a job well done, I suddenly noticed two figures appearing from the smoking wreckage, astride two large wooden barrels. One was a tall man, sporting a top hat and who seemed to be contentedly sipping on a glass of alcohol, stopping every so often to refill his glass from a tap on the barrel he was sat upon. The other, smaller man, meanwhile, was frantically paddling trying to keep himself afloat. Naturally, we were rather taken aback by this sight, and I ordered my men to stand down as the two men approached dry land, as I was eager to question them.

Once they came into shallow waters, I sent two men to escort them up to me. I introduced myself, and asked what business they had on United States waters. The taller man declared that he was in fact an aristocrat from England, and called himself ‘Lord Likely‘. While he did indeed sport a top hat and a striking moustache, his clothes were so tattered and he was so clearly drunk that I doubted the legitimacy of his claims, and accused him of being nothing more than villainous, pirate scum, here to steal from our fine city. At this, Mr. Likely became furiously angry, yelling at me and screaming, “don’t you know who I am?!” before attempting to take a swing at me, but only succeeding in falling flat on his face. His associate, a Mr. Botter, rolled his eyes and remained silent.

We searched both men, and removed a fencing sword, a pistol, a hip-flask of whiskey and a bottle of perfume from Mr. Likely. It was thought he was concealing another weapon in his trousers, but it transpired that it was not a weapon, but his fully erect penis instead. I then arrested the pair on suspicion of piracy, and also charged the so-called lord with attacking a police officer. I ordered they be handcuffed and taken to the nearest jail, but as they were loaded up into the police wagon, Likely was violently sick upon two of my men, so I added ‘vomiting upon the police in the course of their duty’ to his list of charges. Mr. Likely mumbled something about ‘removing my testicles with a rusty blade’, then passed out.

The two men were dispatched to the county jail, where they are currently being kept in a cell awaiting further action. Mr. Botter has been highly co-operative with our inquiries, while Mr. Likely has done nothing but complain, and has continually made outrageous demands, such as silk sheets for his bed, a freshly-pressed suit, meals of swan-meat and caviar, and the finest wines we have to offer. He also asked that the cell be re-designed with gold trimmings, a chandelier and classical artwork. Unable to meet his ludicrous demands, we gave him a few scraps of beef and a cotton bed-sheet, which incensed him further.

Proceedings against the pair will resume tomorrow morning, when Mr. Likely has had ample time to compose himself and sober up.

Report filed by Cpt. Dick Jerker, July 2nd 1856, 19.36pm.

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As we approached solid land for the first time in weeks, I could clearly see the stars and stripes of the American flag flying from the roof-top of a small building on the coast. Either we had chanced upon another country with precisely the same flag as the US, or we were finally here: America.

“We are here, Botter!” I exclaimed, my head still throbbing from my drunken antics. “We made it to America, at last! Quickly, crack open another barrel of rum, I feel like celebrating!”

“I…I think that is not such a good idea, milord,” Botter said.

“Hmmm, you are probably right, Botter,” I mused, looking at the streaks of vomit marking my coat. “Alright, then – I shall go and scrub up, while you steer us in. Ah-ha! America!”

I started to head off to the cabin, when Botter called out to me.

“Milord, look at all those people gathered on the shore, there.”

“Ha! They have probably heard that the world-famous Lord Likely, aristocratic adventurer and gentle-man of action, is headed to their country, and are eager to make my acquaintance! I am cocking excellent, after all.”

“I am not so sure, milord…they seem rather…agitated.”

“Nonsense, Botter, nonsense! I imagine they are just overcome with orgiastic delight, and wish to touch my balls. Why, at any moment I should think they will-”

I was stopped mid-sentence by an almighty kaboom, and then something crashed into the side of the ship, throwing Botter and I to the ground.

“Shit on a hankie!” I roared. “What sort of mischief is this?”

“I think they are firing a cannon at us, milord,” Botter informed me, helpfully.

“What in the name of fuckery are they doing that for? I had heard that these Americans were rather fond of their right to bear arms, but this is taking the biscuit, and then cramming the biscuit right into my lordly anus!”

Another explosion, and the top half of a mast came crashing down near us. It is strange how finding oneself under fire from hostile parties can aid as a marvelous tool for instantly sobering one up, and so I felt the thick fog of inebriation subside, to be replaced by a rather thicker fog of terror and confusion.

“Just what is their bastard problem? Can they not see that we are just – by the arsehole of St. George, of course!” I cried, leaping to my feet. “The Jolly Roger, Botter! We are still bearing the flag of the pirate! Quickly, take it down at once, my man!”

“I would do, milord, but the flag seems to be on fire.”

“Balls.”

There was more cannon-fire, and pieces of The Hairy Clam exploded around us. I sighed. As much as I enjoy adventure, sometimes I wished we were able to go about our business unmolested. It was getting quite tiresome finding our lives under threat with episodic regularity.

“What shall we do, milord?” Botter asked, desperately.

“Stand firm,” I said, my resolve stiffening. “We are British, after all. These barbarians may wish to try and tear us asunder like savages, but we shall keep an air of dignity about us at all-”

Another cannon-ball whizzed past, exploding just behind me and making me lose my hat in the process. I raced to the side of the ship, furious.

“STOP RUDDY FIRING, YOU BLOODY BASTARDS! DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO THE DEVIL I AM? WHY, I SHOULD COME DOWN THERE AND GIVE YOU ALL A DAMNED SOUND THRASHING, YOU IGNORANT TWAT-STICKS!”

The cannon fire stopped, and silence descended upon us. I straightened up, and tucked my thumbs behind the lapels of my coat, proudly.

“See, Botter, all that was required was a bit of discipline. Even the savage beast can be tamed, Botter. Do not ever forget that.”

Then, with crushing inevitability, the cannons resumed their assault, striking the deck of the Clam, and sending Botter and I hurtling to the opposite sides of the vessel. The Hairy Clam was well ablaze now, and sinking fast, and furthermore my hat had been very badly singed. Botter groggily got to his feet, and staggered over to me.

“Are you alright, milord?” he asked.

“There have been rather more pleasant days than today, if I am perfectly frank,” I said, as Botter lifted me to my feet. I surveyed the carnage and chaos that surrounded me, the fires growing more ferocious, cannon shells striking the ship with increasing frequency. It was as I watched the Clam burn that I had a moment of complete and utter striking clarity. “I think it may be time, my dear Botter.”

“Time for what?” Botter replied.

I smiled and laid my hand upon Botter’s shoulder.

“It is time…for a ruddy drink,” I said.

- Lord Likely.

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And so, having taken complete and utter control of the Hairy Clam, we continued to sail onwards to America, to answer the call from my brother, Ludlow.

I say ‘we’, but of course Botter did most of the actual sailing, while I decided to relieve the ship of it’s supplies of rum, of which there was a plentiful and abundant supply. Suffice to say, after a day and a half of non-stop drinking, I did become quite, quite drunk, and thus the remainder of our voyage remains quite an indistinct blur.

I do remember swinging from the masts of the ship, totally naked, yelling, “I am a jolly rogerer!” before falling onto the deck with an almighty thud, bending my cutlass as I did. No-one should have to endure the agony of a bent cutlass, let me tell you.

Later on, I am told I tried to engage a shark in a bout of fisticuffs, as the hungry creature swam alongside our vessel. Allegedly, I called the shark, “a fang-faced, fin-backed bastard” and then I began wildly swinging my fists in it’s direction, apparently succeeding in laying a blow on the animal’s nose as it lunged up out of the water. At this point, I am told Botter tried to drag me away before I was devoured by the furious shark, but instead I declared the creature to be a “big, aquatic poofter” and then I vomited into the shark’s open mouth, as it rose up out of the sea to take a snap at me. This did not seem to please the animal much, and I am told it swam away in disgust.

As we continued onwards, my alcohol-induced antics increased; I apparently bore my naked buttocks to any other ship we passed, and one time I am informed that I stuck a telescope up my arse, and claimed I was keeping look out with my “brown eye”. On another instance, I wrestled control of the Clam from my man-servant, and attempted to steer us to the end of the world, so I could take a piss off of it. It was only by offering me more rum that Botter managed to pry me from the wheel, which is just as well as I was seemingly very close to sailing the ship right into some rocks, which would have been rather unfortunate.

I do faintly recall hanging my Lord Palmerston over the side of the boat at one point, thinking, in my drunken state, that I could use it as a rod to reel in any nearby mermaids, and then take them back to their mermaid castle and paste their fishy behinds with my own man-batter.

After hours ands hours of such inebriated tomfoolery, I finally went to sleep, my trousers around my ankles, apparently clutching a fish I had caught earlier, believing it to be a ravishing mermaid princess. I am fairly certain I did not try and penetrate the fish, although Botter always goes rather quiet when I try and discuss the matter with him.

Anyway, I was roused from my soused slumber later by Botter, who was positively brimming with excitement.

“Land ho!” he cried out.

“Did you just call me a whore?” I slurred, as I picked myself up off the ground, discarding my piscine partner in the sea as I did so.

“No, milord. Look – I can see land!”

I tried to focus through my alcoholic haze, gave up, and employed the use of the nearby telescope.

“Well slap my dick on the Pope!” I exclaimed, lowering the telescope, apparently leaving an awful brown ring around my eye, as I had quite forgotten where that telescope had been earlier.

“Could it be America?” asked Botter, hopefully.

“Wherever the cock we are,” I said, rubbing my increasingly sore head. “I hope they have got some fucking coffee.”

- Lord Likely.

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“There you go, my dear,” I said, rolling off of Captain Labia NoBeard, after I had issued forth within her.

“Thank you, your lordship,” panted Labia, beads of sweat glistening on her chest. “Many thanks indeed.”

“Oh no, thank you,” I replied, lighting up two cigarettes. “It was very decent of you to let this condemned man have a last…meal, as it were.”

“Well, I could not deny you your reasonable request,” smiled Labia, taking one of the cigarettes from me, and drawing upon it slowly. “It only seems a pity that I have to force you to a watery death on the morrow. “

“Well, you are only doing your duty as a pirate, my dear. Really, there are no hard feelings,” I said, casually.

“What a man you are, your lordship,” Labia sighed, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air. “I doubt I shall find another quite able to measure up to you.”

“Talking of which,” I exclaimed, stubbing out my cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “I feel my Lord Palmerston is ready to go again. Shall we?”

“Rather!” Labia chirped, excitedly.

“Then it’s time for you to walk MY plank, my dear!” I cried out, as Labia mounted me once more.

“Excuse me?”

“I was referring to the sex-act.”

“Oh.”

I was up bright and early the next morning, ready to divulge my cure for the terrible crabs that had befallen the crew of the Hairy Clam. I gave Botter his instructions for the day, and then adjourned to the deck of the ship.

“By Shakespeare’s shaven scrotum!” I exclaimed, as I laid eyes upon the female crew, all huddled together on the deck, wearing nothing more than their nighties. “I feel as if I have died and gone to heaven!”

Labia NoBeard broke free of the mass, and strode towards me.

“That was…quite a night, your lordship,” she purred. “You are without doubt one of the finest lovers I have ever laid with.”

I smiled, but then her face darkened.

“However, if you try and cross me today, I will not hesitate to sever your prized organ from your body, and feed it to the sharks.”

“At least they shall be well fed,” I joked, slightly nervously. “Now, are we all ready?”

The crew mumbled in the affirmative.

“Marvelous! Now, as you can see, my man-servant Botter has taken the liberty of preparing one of the lifeboats for you. You shall all board that craft, and row out about thirty feet away from the Clam. There, you shall get out of the lifeboat, and into the sea.”

“But it’ll be freezing in there!” Moaned one of the ladies.

“I am quite counting on that,” I explained. “Fresh, icy-cold, salt water is just the tonic for what ails you, my dears. Fifteen minutes in the ocean and you shall find that your unwanted guests will simply…disappear.”

The crew grumbled and groaned, but under orders from their captain, they grudgingly boarded the lifeboat. Labia entered last, and turned to me, pistol in hand.

“I am taking this with me,” she said, coolly. “If I suspect you of foul play, I shall not hesitate to put a bullet in your head.”

“To which head are you referring?” I asked.

Labia snorted, and climbed in after her crew. I gave the signal to Botter, who gently lowered the craft down to the sea below. It landed softly, and then we watched as the crew quickly rowed out and away from the Hairy Clam. Once they were roughly thirty feet away, they stopped, and one by one the ladies dropped into the ice-cold waters.

“Look at that, Botter,” I remarked, leaning on the side of the Clam. “Have you ever seen such a spectacular sight?”

The sight was, indeed, spectacular, as the ladies’ wet garments afforded us a tantalising glimpse of the breasts underneath, the nipples of which were as hard as bullets. It was like a vision from some kind of wonderful dream.

“Well, we can’t stand here admiring the view, as much as we’d like to,” I said, trying to draw my eyes way from the bobbing bosoms in the sea. “We have work to do! Are you ready, Botter?”

“Aye aye, cap’n!” Botter cried cheerfully, saluting sharply.

“Stop that,” I snapped. “You ridiculous twat.”

Botter apologised, and dashed off to perform his assigned task. Moments later, the sound of chains whirring into motion confirmed his completion of said task; to whit, the anchor was being drawn up. I, meanwhile, took to the wheel of the ship, and spun it to the right. Botter soon joined me at my side.

“Is the fire properly stoked, Botter?” I asked.

“Aye aye…um, that is to say, yes, milord.”

“Good. We won’t have long before those lady pirates get wind of our-”

There was a loud crack, and a bullet embedded itself in some wood behind me.

“Confound and bugger it! We have even less time than I bargained for. Quickly, let us away!”

I fought with the wheel, and the ship groaned and turned in accordance. The sails filled with wind, and we began to move.

“Here, take the wheel, Botter,” I said. “Just keep her steady, and for Christ’s sake avoid any icebergs. I am going to check on the progress of our pursuers.”

Botter nodded, and I dashed off to the port side of the Clam. No sooner had I popped my head over the top, then another bullet whistled past it. I ducked down, and peered cautiously over the side.

“YOU BASTARD, LIKELY!” Labia yelled, waving her pistol, as her crew struggled back into their tiny vessel. “I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS, YOU FOPPISH LITTLE SHIT!”

“THANK YOU FOR A WONDERFUL TIME,” I shouted back. “UNFORTUNATELY, I AM RATHER ALLERGIC TO DEATH, SO MUST BID YOU ALL A FOND FAREWELL. YOU WILL FIND PLENTY OF PROVISIONS ON THAT LIFEBOAT, INCLUDING AN ILLUSTRATED COPY OF THE KARMA-SUTRA, SHOULD YOU MISS ME.”

Another shot was fired, coming perilously close to my beautiful head. I retreated back to the wheel.

“They didn’t sound pleased,” Botter noted. “Are you sure they can’t catch us, milord?”

“Oh, quite sure. The wind is in our favour, Botter, hence why I asked that they disembark on the opposite side of the ship. We shall be clear of them in mere minutes, with our pace picking up as it is.”

As is often the case, I was quite right, and soon I watched as the former crew became tiny specks in the distance, growing ever-smaller in our wake. I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction.

I, Lord Likely, was in complete control of the Hairy Clam.

- Lord Likely.

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And so, Botter and I went on to spend the next couple of days in the captivity of the comely lady pirates. It was not an uncomfortable captivity; indeed, we were allowed to wander freely about the decks of the Hairy Clam, we were fed well, and enjoyed frequent intercourse with the female crew as and when they demanded it, which was often, as the poor ladies had been starved of male company for months. Luckily, I was more than up for the task, although I feared Botter might wind up spraining something before too long.

However, as agreeable as our situation was, the more pressing matter of getting to America to aid my brother Ludlow played upon my mind, and I spent much of the time in between pumpings trying to formulate a plan for our escape.

On one such night, Botter and I were holed up in our cabin, frantically trying to plot our bid for freedom.

“What about, if we dress up as ladies, milord? Then the other ladies might confuse us for the other crew members, and think the real us have already escaped, and be so distracted trying to find us that we – the real real we – can slip away quietly,” Botter said.

“Botter, is this just another laughably flimsy excuse for you to adorn women’s clothing again?” I asked.

“I likes the fabrics,” Botter said, defensively.

I grunted, and turned back to a schematic of the ship, which I had drawn up from my frequent constitutions aboard the vessel.

“There must be something we can do,” I mused, pouring over the plans. “There must be…”

Sometimes, one can spend an age carefully plotting and planning, only for Madam Fate to drop a solution right into your lap. In this case, Madam Fate dropped something else entirely into the laps of our captors, an event heralded by a piercing scream coming from the upper deck. Botter and I both looked upwards, then to each other.

“Egads!” I cried, leaping to my feet. “Something is afoot!”

We rushed upstairs, and found a scene of utter chaos and confusion, with woman strewn about the decks, scratching at their crotches in a most frenzied manner. Captain Labia NoBeard stood watching the melee with bewilderment, until she spotted us and stormed over, her face scarlet with rage.

“YOU TWO!” She snapped. “You two have bought a plague upon this ship!”

“I don’t recall packing a plague in among my luggage,” I returned. “Did you bring a plague, Botter?”

“SHUT UP!” Labia screamed. “Half of my crew have been infected with…with…with crabs!”

“Well, we are at sea,” I said. “There are a lot of crabs about, in the sea.”

“You know full well what I am talking about, Likely! Pubic lice! Crabs! My poor girls are crawling with them.” Labia cried, shaking with anger.

“Ah,” I said. “Well, while I can vouch for the health of my own manhood’s mane, I fear Botter may have been slightly less discerning with regards to tending to his own cock-foliage. I suppose I should have warned you, really.”

“Well, your silence will cost you dearly. You shall walk the plank for this, your lordship.”

Botter gasped, and looked up at me, desperation in his eyes. I smiled.

“Agreed,” I stated, much to my man-servant’s horror. “Of course, I shall take my secret remedy for the removal of lice to my watery grave, which will be a terrible, terrible shame…”

“Remedy?” Labia asked. “You know of a remedy?”

“Oh, quite so,” I claimed. “One needs to be prepared for all eventualities, if one is to follow a life of non-stop nookie, as I have done.”

Labia rubbed her chin in thoughtful contemplation, clearly caught in a struggle between letting me live awhile longer, and dying at this very instance.

“Look inside your heart, my dear Labia,” I said, placing a hand gently upon her chest, ensuring I got a good feel of her breast as I did so. “I am sure it will lead you right.”

Labia nodded, slowly. “Aye. I have decided. I shall let you live another day, your lordship, but only because I care for the well-being of my crew. As soon as they are better again, you shall die as promised.”

“That seems entirely reasonable,” I said, my hand still resting lightly upon her bosom.

“And please, take your hand off of my breast before I slice it off,” Labia added, waving a cutlass in my direction.

I withdrew the offending appendage, and smiled apologetically.

“My apologies, my dear. Now, tell your ladies to meet up here tomorrow morning, ready for treatment. And be sure to tell them to be lightly dressed, for that will…better facilitate the treatment. Yes!”

Labia pondered a moment, then nodded firmly, and strode over to her crew to relay the latest events. As she bent over to talk to the stricken, I happily admired her fulsome backside.

“I think I shall have to have one more for the road,” I said, watching as her derrière wiggled suggestively in the air.

“There is no road,” Botter reminded me.

“One for the sea, then!” I exclaimed, putting my arm around my man-servant in an uncharacteristic display of good cheer. “One for the sea!”

Botter laughed, and scratched at his groin. Naturally, I withdrew my arm with due haste.

- Lord Likely.

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It was several hours later when Botter and I finally emerged from the cabin of the Hairy Clam, having been roundly ravaged by the sex-starved female pirates. We both simultaneously lit up a post-coital cigarette each, and gazed out over the moon-lit waters of the ocean.

“I haven’t seen that many nipples since I worked in a cattery,” Botter finally said, breaking the silence.

“Welcome to my world, Botter,” I replied, exhaling smoke into the cold, night air. “A never-ending procession of tits and fannies.”

“I think the short brunette quite fancied me,” Botter continued.

“The blind one with two wooden eyes?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“That would make sense,” I said.

We fell into silence again, quietly drawing on our cigarettes. Botter shuffled awkwardly, then spoke again.

“I…thank you, milord,” said Botter. “It has been a while since I felt the gentle touch of a woman.”

“I would wager that it has been even longer since you felt the gentle breast of a woman,” I replied.

“Yeah,” Botter answered. “It’s been a while. Not that I am complaining, milord. I am of course only to happy to be at your service day-in and day-out, but I have missed laying with a woman.”

As Botter slunk into silence again, I considered my faithful man-servant carefully, and felt a slew of strange emotions that I was unfamiliar with in regard to the small wretch. I felt pity, and sympathy and a desire to even embrace the poor fool. However, I quickly remembered that I was an Englishman, and made sure to bury these pesky emotions back down deep within my gut.

“Come, Botter!” I cried, slapping him heartily on the back, causing him to drop his cigarette into the water. “This is no time for moping! If you like, I could break one of your limbs, and give you something to really mope about, eh?”

Botter smiled, and turned back to face the ocean. We continued to regard the black sea, until we were joined by Captain Labia NoBeard, who was wrapped up in a blanket.

“Ah, Captain!” I exclaimed. “We are both much obliged for a wonderful day’s sport, but I am afraid we shall have to press on to-morrow, for we are bound for America on some quite urgent business. So, if you would be so kind as to-”

“Oh, I am afraid that will not be possible,” Labia interrupted, shaking her head. “We are pirates, do not forget, and you are our treasure, milord. And we are not in the habit of giving our treasure away. No, you are to spend the rest of your days here, with us.”

While the idea of spending every waking moment being sexed to Singapore and back was an appealing one, I was determined to make it to America and to the aid of my brother, Ludlow.

“Now listen here, madam,” I said, waving my cigarette in her face angrily. “I am not about to surrender myself to you and your crew, and become some kind of sex-slave, doing it night after night after night after night after night…”

“Are you sure, milord?” Botter whispered into my ear.

“Yes! Listen, woman!” I snapped, getting increasingly riled by the whole affair. “I am a lord, and an aristocrat, and I serve precisely no-one, save for Her Majesty the Queen, may God Save Her Royal Globes. So I must politely demand that you drop us off at the next available port, or allow us to board another vessel, else I shall be forced to ask again, in a distinctly less-than-polite manner, possibly involving a sound thrashing to your beautiful behind.”

I concluded my rant, and crossed my arms indignantly. Captain Labia smiled a smile that seemed not to be powered by joy, but by malice.

“You will stay,” she repeated, drawing a pistol out from the folds of her blanket. “Alive, or dead.”

“Pah! You would not kill us, if we really are so important to you.”

“It is true, I would rather not kill you,” Labia purred, stroking the muzzle of her pistol against her cheek. “But we shall get by with or without you. We are all quite used to quenching our sexual thirst with each other’s juices by now.”

This extraordinary turn of phrase made my Lord Palmerston twitch, but before I could become fully aroused, I heard a chorus of guns being cocked in the shadows, as the crew of the Hairy Clam stepped forward to support their captain. I sighed.

“Tits,” I said.

It seemed I had metaphorically leapt out of the frying-pan, into the fire and then straight into a ruddy big furnace.

- Lord Likely

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Before Botter and I could beat a hasty retreat from the vicinity of the pirate ship, some masked figures rushed to the side of the vessel and pointed pistols in our general direction. Escape, it seemed, would be impossible. Or, at least, extremely painful.

“I would say the game is up, Botter.” I said to my man-servant, as the figures lowered a smaller craft into the water near us, motioning violently for us to board. “Now, when we are aboard the ship, make sure not to bring attention to the fact that I am a ridiculously wealthy aristocrat and well-know and much-beloved lord. These are pirates we are dealing with, and if they knew my true identity they would not hesitate to strip me of my assets in a flash. And I do not want these bloodthirsty rogues anywhere near my assets, understand?”

“Gotcha, milord,” said Botter, as we slowly, grudgingly boarded the small boat. Once inside, we were quickly hoisted up onto the main ship, where we were roughly dragged aboard and flung onto the floor.

“Well, that is a fine how do you do, I am sure!” I cried indignantly, as I picked myself up off the floor, dusting off my top hat. “I cannot say I care much for the service on this ship! Suffice to say, I shall be lodging a formal complaint.”

One of the masked figures next to me lashed out with a whip, catching me on my left cheek (upper). My face burnt with pain.

“Hey! You can’t treat his lordship like that!” cried Botter, before realising his error and slapping his hand over his mouth. I rolled my eyes.

“Lordship, eh?” enquired another of the pirates, stepping out from the assembled crowd. This character was a tall, lean person, with blonde hair tied up in a pony-tail, their face also obscured by a mask.

“Um, no…I said…uh, ‘large ship’. No, wait, ‘loud shit’. Um…’lewd shrimp?’”, babbled Botter, desperately trying to dig himself out of his self-made hole. I sighed, and wished the hole was six-foot underground, and filled with his stinking, rotting corpse.

“Thank you, Botter,” I said, “I think you have said quite enough for now. In fact, I think you should seriously consider not speaking again EVER.”

“Shut up!” the blonde-haired pirate yelled, striding up to me, and pulling down the mask on their face. I gasped. Instead of the typical, bearded, filth-ridden scumbag I had expected to see, I was confronted with a not unattractive female face. Suddenly, fortune seemed to be smiling upon me once more.

“I am Captain Labia NoBeard,” she informed me. “And this is my ship, The Hairy Clam, and it’s crew,” she gestured to the other pirates, who all drew down their masks, revealing themselves to be all entirely, one hundred per-cent female. I grinned broadly, and straightened my tie.

“Well,” I said, “The pleasure is all mine.”

Labia smiled, then as quick as lightning, drew out a pistol and jabbed at my chest with it.

“Please, your lordship,” she said, calmly. “do not think for one moment that because we are female that you are out of danger. Need I remind you that we are still pirates, and we fully intend to rob you blind. Now, if you’d be so kind as to give us your most valuable possession to begin with…”

I shrugged my shoulders, and pulled down my trousers, revealing my Lord Palmerston to the assembled crew. There was an audible, sharp intake of breath as the ladies beheld my behemoth-like member.

“This is my most valuable possession,” I said proudly, “and I will happily ‘give it’ to all of you.”

The lady pirates stood, transfixed by my outstanding organ. Finally, one of the ladies broke the stunned silence.

“C-Captain?” she said, meekly. “What do we do?”

“We are pirates, ladies,” Labia answered. “Let us do what pirates do. Let us pillage!”

The women excitedly swarmed forward and lifted Botter and I up by our arms, and dragged us towards the interior of the ship. I looked over to my man-servant, who seemed to be fighting between expressing fear and joy.

“Chin up, my man!” I cried. “It is a dirty job, but someone has to do it. Try and keep a stiff upper lip, or even better just try and keep stiff! Ha-ha!”

We were dragged into a roomy cabin, and as the door swung closed after us, I mused on how my penis had managed to save my life twice in one week.

I was truly blessed.

- Lord Likely, who enjoys reading humor-blogs.com while ‘on the job’.

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