Bingo's Time Crisis

Been on the Jolly Rogerer for a few days now, I'm still wearing the ripped gingham frock, and the captain is now wearing my clothes, and is looking just like any other fifty year old that starts going out in jeans, T-shirt and runners. A complete and utter "Wang".

Well the post-it notes are all used up, but at least we have got 48 very pleased pirates, all now sporting their very own personalised name stickers. It gave me a superb opportunity to learn everybody’s names before they kill me. Trouble is brewing though, some of them have already lost theirs (blew away, burnt, eaten) and the rest have noticed that their "badges" are not as sticky as they were this morning. Good job I still have a few pages of take-a-break left.

It was during a lull in the party (and at a point when it looked like I was about to become a human pin-cushion) that I remembered the scruffy tragedy/puzzle magazine that Right-Hand stuffed in my bag when I arrived.
The pirates are clearly lacking in entertainment aboard ship, and seem totally captivated by the horrific tales of poor relationship choices (I married a two timing gibbon from Doncaster) and botched operations (woman gets 3 legs in liposuction mix-up) documented inside. It's a shame she's stuck in your time, but Kerry Katona's public slide into depravity has gone down a storm in the 17th Century.

Some of the men aboard ship have asked me if there are pirates in the future. I wasn’t sure what to say, but then I told them that there are a few pirates in my time, their leader is called "Lionel Blair", which then gave me a fantastic idea. These pirate types are quite nimble on their feet, have got the knack when it comes to using the old needle and thread, and are always singing shanties. So we have established a musical theatre group aboard ship, and our first production is underway, a musical re-interpretation of all Ben Elton’s musicals (you know, the ones where he takes an old band and makes a shitty show out of their back catalogue). I will be playing the part of Ben Elton's lost sense of humour, Salty Steve is playing Andrew Lloyd Webber's corduroy trousers, rehearsals are going well, with a bit more work "Whistle down the we will rock you Tommy, Phantom of the express" will be a huge hit.

Anyway, have to go, Filthy Bert has just put a hole in his Gloria Hunniford costume, and these dance numbers are not going to choreograph themselves.........

I have been aboard ship for a day now.
I haven’t seen that much of it though; apart from the small box they had me in for a few hours, and now the Captains cabin.
I'm alone (only being able to blog when nobody’s looking, I have to wave my right hand around in an erratic manner to communicate with you through my trusty right hand back there in your time, it makes me look like a mentalist, but it’s the only way) The Captain isn’t here, but I can see my clothes (jeans, trainers, T-shirt) and my bag on his table.
I didn’t see them arrive, and have no idea what Right-Hand put in my bag.

Somehow Right-Hand can see where I’m going when I jump, Pretty handy when being churned through time, but he is a lazy fecker, and all the bag contains is anything within 5 feet of the keyboard he lives on.

Captain Edward “Blackbeard with little white sticky bits in" Teach walks into the room and announces himself and welcomes me aboard his “glorious vessel”, The Jolly Rogerer.

The Captain is quite a large chap, but his voice, dress sense and manner doesn’t quite match his stature as the most fearsome pirate to sail the seven seas. He comes across much like you would imagine a 50 year old theatre director from Bristol who lives alone with his needy mother, and had a torrid affair with Christopher Biggins during the 1984 panto season.

He told me that my arrival was fortunate, as this was ladies week aboard The Jolly Rogerer and that his “super dooper party” was in full swing, what with this and the last lady exploding during a drunken game of get in the cannon, I couldn’t have “popped out of the sky” at a better time.
He pointed effeminately towards a ripped gingham frock and a blue sash (with “buggering station” written on it) draped over a chair at the back of the luridly decorated (lime and pink!) cabin.
He excitedly told me that this was going to be my crew-mans uniform from now on, that he was glad to have someone aboard with such pretty buttocks, and if I don’t get broken by the ravenous pack above deck will find myself with a special position, at the Capatains table, strapped to it.
Then he opens my bag on his desk. What surprises has Right-Hand put in there for me?

Great, the daft bastard has packed the Ipod along with my new portable speakers, an old copy of Take-a-Break, some post-it notes, and a large jar of Vaseline.
Great, I’m doomed.

Blackie (as he insists I now call him) wasn’t too interested in any of the items, he was slightly puzzled by the Ipod, but seemed happy when I explained that it was a pillbox given to me by me dear old Mama, and was of no real value. He couldn’t read so the Take-a-Break was safe, and he didn’t like the taste of the Vaz, and didn’t think too much of its cutlass cleaning properties. He gave me the bag, and told me to keep it hidden from his gang of scurvy dogs, as they will inevitably try to burgle me one of these nights.

He told me a few of the boys will be down soon to put the frock and sash on me, and that I was free to chill out in his cabin for a few hours, and that he will bring me above decks a bit later for bit of a party.
I thanked Blackie for being so nice, for making me feel so welcome, and that he need not go to any trouble on my behalf

Almost forgot, Pirate facts.
Fact One: Pirates didnt wear eyepatches because they had poked their eyes out during pervy pirate games. They wore them so that one eye was always trained to see in the dark, making it easier to navigate by the stars.

Fact Two:When someone says they have you over a barrel, they are actually implying that they have you tied up in a popular method of pirate bondage, and I can tell you its not funny, the rope is burning my wrists and ankles, and have got some rather severe splinters in my belly!

I can hear someone coming down the hall towards this cabin, back soon...........

I woke up the same way as I usually do when I have just jumped through space and time. Screaming like a wee girl, stark-bollock naked (although my clothes and belongings always arrive 30 minutes later), disorientated, discombobulated and proudly sporting a rather large erection which is teetering right at the point of climax.
It wasn’t a problem on my inaugural time jump, there isn’t a "George at Asda" in the Stone Age, where upon my arrival actually found that kind of thing went down rather well with the locals, but it has become more of a problem the longer I remained in the time/marmite vortex.

I "appeared" right there on the main deck during what can be best described as a pirate festival. It was clear that I had appeared on a boat in an ocean somewhere, it was a warm evening and I'm not sure if it was the burning English naval officers hung on the rigging and distinct smell of Rum, but there was definite Caribbean flavour to the surroundings.

I soon cleaned up my mind and spillage from the time jump, but before I could cup myself and find somewhere to hide while waiting for my stuff, the Pirates had seen me after witnessing my staggering and spattering appearance for a few moments, they came towards me rattling their rusty cutlasses and a flame of wicked intent burning within their eyes.
They grabbed me roughly by the arms, quickly and efficiently binding my hands with the abundance of old rope at their immediate disposal.
The whole ship roared at me as one with a single belly infested laugh. The entertainment has arrived. The captain must be pleased with them to spoil them with a live magic show as well as the free rum.

Now we all know that a Pirate ship is populated in general by large groups of drunken, bearded and dangerous men that spend long periods away at sea. They like to sail around the Caribbean or anywhere else sunny, cruising from port to port, leaving havoc and ruin in their wake.
They have a penchant for wearing bandanas, gold jewellery (especially earrings for some reason), ripped trousers, brown leather slip-on shoes, and a wide variety of accessories that really turn this basic ensemble into something special.
Rum based is their favourite type of drink given the choice, and only the scariest and munted up women can ever count themselves among their numbers aboard ship.
History never quite put all of this together with a truly cynical eye as to what was really going on.

Piracy and Villainy on the high seas is more about shopping and bumming than, smuggling and gunning.
And I’m trapped for a whole bloody (lets hope it’s not a bloody hole) week aboard The Jolly Rogerer as it sails around the West Indies on a hunt for brand new shiny things and sailors to shout rude things at. I have met the Captain. I recall in my history lessons many years ago the stories of the famous pirate Blackbeard, however history seems to have omitted and denied him the eternal recognition of his full given title. “Black-beard with little white sticky bits in it”

I can’t remember what’s in my bag and haven’t been here long enough for it to appear. There must be something from the future that will keep a ravenous and randy gang of pervy pirates at bay…………..