The auto-erotic sales section of our local paper advertises car-phone-sex-lines. Titles include Home-Alone Fiat Panda, Escort Service and MOT and Lick My Volvo.

That's nothing. There's a card in the telephone box round the corner advertising the favours of an Intercity locomotive. Goes like the 4.15 from Paddington, apparently.

Tomorrow is International Walk Like A Pirate Day. Arrr!!

With a parrot on my shoulder and a cutlass in my hand, I am spying on Kate Bush while hiding in her shrubbery. That's right, it's International Stalk Like A Pirate Day, arrrr!

I wanted to pick up on this running gag, but I can't owing to my wooden leg.

Long John Silver's horse had three wooden legs.

And, strangely, his dining table kept falling over.

The most famous pirate who ever sailed the seven seas was Gilbert Perkins, whom fate had destined to be a chartered accountant, but, by pure freak of chance, was given misleading advice by a senile careers advisor at the end of his O-levels.

Perkins would have had no chance at accountancy. He was half Irish, half Scottish, a quarter Canadian, two-thirds Polish, and seven-eighths Nigerian, so his teachers dismissed him as being mathematically impossible.

There may only be seven seas now, but there was an eighth until its warranty ran out and it sank.

Pirates are a myth created by a subterrainean bureaucracy that has severe spelling difficulties to mask it's activities with the King of Canada's daughter

tongue twisters make baby jesus cry

Jesus is the Son of God. Damn! No-one will buy that rubbish! Yarr!