My father is a master mariner. He never seemed particularly disappointed that I lubbed the land so hard. But after two days in Vounaki I have a mighty vessel of my own to command (a high-performance demon known as a “fun boat”); the first wisps of my barbical tribute to Captain Haddock and the open sea ahead.
Arrrrrrr! Happy sailing, ye old sea dog!
ooh stop it your birkenstocks are turning me on
Where has your belly gone? Did it fall overboard? Shurely shome mishtake? Is this an airbrushed image? The nation should be told.
Nice shorts.
No, really …
P: Thanks to yerrrrrrrrrrrrrr Petey
EK: This picture is here simply as Emma-bait
J: I turned it into a buoyancy aid
P: IN the light of your approval I have gone and bought several more pairs.
The word ‘phwoar’ died on my lips. I was THAT impressed!
No, really.
Splendid ….
That be a fine vessel. That it BE.
Not sure about your lubberly short-trousered garb, matey. Splice me if it ain’t so.
*Real* scurvy seamen wear pantaloons. (Ideally spattered in blood).