Arrrrrrrr, ooh arr me hearties. September the 19th (mark it in your diarrry) is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, and for people not inclined to wear pink or buy a bear, these sort of days form an integral part of the calendar year. While your colleagues may applaud your Movember cultivation in the name of charity, some events are best left for the self, an indulgent ego trip for the soul to enlight and enliven the 262nd day of the year. It’s either that or celebrate the Solomon Islands joining the United Nations.
A little research had me reciting some Pirateese with far greater competence than when I nervously entered my fifth form GCSE Oral French exam. The entire charade revolved around me actually speaking another language other than francofied english for the benefit of the Yorkshire exam board, represented in this case by a small Sanyo tape recorder on a desk in a cold, unused classroom. My meek attempt to ask directions to the railway station had my dear French teacher waving manically the direction of the relevant verb tense behind the tape recorder as though it might see him with me moving from present to past like a manic fifteen year old Doctor Who. A charades champion he was not, and a B was, frankly, far greater reward than I deserved, thanks in part to his valiant effort.
The language of Pirate on the other hand revolves around a lot of poor grammar and a lot of ‘arrr’. For example, when stuck for something to say simply utter ‘arrr’. For example:
Pirate One: Me boys n me we was cuttin the ‘ole bunch of lubbers into pieces and sendin’ ’em to Davey Jones’ locker, so we was.
Pirate Two: Arrr.
If only I could have arrr-ed my way to La Rochelle railway station.
