Smythe! Take two of your biggest grilling irons and take out the cheese factory, we'll go in the left and fry their onions to buggery with this heated bicycle.
O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise, As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice! She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum, A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum; That frae November till October, Ae market-day thou was nae sober;
Never fear M. Louis-Alexandre Vilsex, I am here to guard your soft flanks whilst these rosbifs flounder around attempting to enter your Channel. We're quite safe he.......ouch. Stop that.
I'm painting myself blue and am willing to be flung forward on a suicide mission, resulting in a bonnie wee ballad for my bairns to read while they're working the treadmill in the orphanage.
It's in my bluid.
Unflinching foot 'gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met; The groans of those who fell Were drown'd amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang, And in the battle-yell. Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot, Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot; And O! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring Noble bled for fame, The Patriot for his country's claim; This Knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady's love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood, From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave, From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the Grave!
72 commentaires:
Bon tetons!
Send in the fire-ships!
TWO!
Damm!
Putain! Le plume de ma tante est rigide maintenant!
Charge!
ONE!
Mais n'est ce pas si bonne comme mine, eh?
CHAARGE!
One! We'll not let this one get away!
Three! Arse he's got verification!
Man the guns on the starboard side, Mr Wagonwheel!
FIRE!
Smythe! Take two of your biggest grilling irons and take out the cheese factory, we'll go in the left and fry their onions to buggery with this heated bicycle.
Nice britches.
THREE!!!
Bring her round, Mr plowman!
We've got to finish this quickly! My horse isn't that good a swimmer! Five!
Two.Two.Two.
Third quarter-deck's taken shot! Repare the breach, midshipman!
ONE!
YES!
Three...
Hoots mon, there's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht!
FOUR!
Nice work Smythe. Move up the beach, they've reinforced that art gallery with a concrete Edith Piaf.
Mizzen-mast's not going to hold! Mr. Louche! Cut the rigging!
Fair faw your honest sonsie face, great chieftain of the pudden race!
Have a look at my pudden, you FILTHY FRENCH bandit!
FOUR. WE'RE FIGHTING BACK!
FIRE THE ALRAM GUNS!
Commander, we've taken grape shot on the poop deck. Deploy germoloids and then prepare to return fire!
Set up a jury-mast, and turn her into the wind!
TWO! HA HA!
Unleash les chiens of war! A mighty five!
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.
[wheechs dirk oot at inopportune moment]
Nice britches.
THREE!!!
The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
A bonnie wee FIVE for Jeanie and the bairns!
Your guns aren't in reach, Mr. Plowman! Swing your main-sail abaft of the breeze, sir!
Take THESE!!
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_0XBRB1F5ZuY
/SOYwPZh1yeI/AAAAAAAABk4/PWLdMC7lOTM/
s1600-h/download.jpeg
Aaagh!!! Not now, DSL, NOT NOW!!!
FIVE!!!
What are you blathering about, Quarter-Master H? I'll occasion you five hundred lashes if you don't man that deck gun!
Huuurgh, it's like Marseille all over again. But this time they're shooting back, the cowards.
O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise,
As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;
That frae November till October,
Ae market-day thou was nae sober;
This one is for all that FILTHY FRENCH cooking!
She's coming about! Thumper! bring her to port and give her a broadside salute, sir!
THREE! YES!
HAVE THAT, MONSIEUR!
I'm trying Cap'n but one of the nag's water wings has taken a shot! we're swimming in a circle! Three!
A SIX! You're all clear Kid. Let's blow this thing and go home.
Never fear M. Louis-Alexandre Vilsex, I am here to guard your soft flanks whilst these rosbifs flounder around attempting to enter your Channel. We're quite safe he.......ouch. Stop that.
Wagonwheel's coming under fire from their flagship! Admiral Louche! Stone-shot at five hundred yards!
FIRE!
The fiery fire is in my bluid, Admiral Perry!
I turn into uber Scotchman when there's a fight in my loins.
The strength of ten normal men, and an inappropriate Rabbie Burns poem to bedazzle the filthy Furriners!
They're unleashing the saucisons, sir. Starboard..
Sir, the admiral's lost another eye!
I DON'T GIVE A DAMN, RAISE THAT JIB AND TURN INTO THE WIND OR BY GOD I'LL KEELHAUL YOU 'TIL YOUR SPLEEN'S BLACK, BOY!
SIX!
AAAGGGHHH!!!! CLAIR!!! FRIENDLY FIRE...!!!
Mr Moose, you've fallen short the target, sir! Bring her round and give them a swing from your starboard forty pounders!
FOUR!
Wagonwheel! Take Mr Egg down to Dr Smollett! MOOSE! FIRE, MAN, FIRE!
Whatever you do, don't look at that photo of her br......too late.
Admiral, there's garlic on the poop deck, I think the infiltrating French Fornicator is back!
For faintnefs thae forfochtin fulis
Fell down lyk flauchtir fails ;
Frelh men cam in and hail'd the dulis,
And dang them down in dails
Bedeen that day
MY ARM! The forecastle's taken a direct hit!
ONE
Take that
Jacques Dutronc
For Clairs tits then. Five!
Damn you, Moose! I'll have you brought up on a charge for this! All ships! On my signal, sixty five pounder broadside on the port side!
READY!
AIM!
Smollett's out of tar, he says we'd best cauterise Mr. Pike's stump with the cook's best frying oil.
MERCY! we're hit below the water. Turn the flagship hard to port!
Admiral!
I'm painting myself blue and am willing to be flung forward on a suicide mission, resulting in a bonnie wee ballad for my bairns to read while they're working the treadmill in the orphanage.
It's in my bluid.
Unflinching foot 'gainst foot was set,
Unceasing blow by blow was met;
The groans of those who fell
Were drown'd amid the shriller clang
That from the blades and harness rang,
And in the battle-yell.
Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot,
Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot;
And O! amid that waste of life,
What various motives fired the strife!
The aspiring Noble bled for fame,
The Patriot for his country's claim;
This Knight his youthful strength to prove,
And that to win his lady's love;
Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood,
From habit some, or hardihood.
But ruffian stern, and soldier good,
The noble and the slave,
From various cause the same wild road,
On the same bloody morning, trode,
To that dark inn, the Grave!
FIRE!!!
On your command then...
AARGHHH!!! The left one's taken a direct hit!
BOSH! FIRED!
She's pulling down her colours! We've holed her under the water!
I think we've got her, lads! And lasses!
I may not live to see the morrow, sir. My death may not, however, be in vain if we can bag them buggers.
*sips perrier*
Go, camel my boy. Bite the froggy swine. TWO!
Demmit, Mr. Kemp, you'll wet the powder. Charge those guns and hit their masts with a good weight of chain shot.
Huzzah!
VICTORY! The captain's handed me his sword, and we've captured two frigates, and three men-of-war as our prizes! We've beaten the buggers!
HUZZAH!
See that? That's OUR Trafalgar, is that.
Now hard a port, and head back to Portsmouth, sailors!
HOORAY!
By God sir, I think we've got her. I think we've got her. I'll tell me ki...ACH...ch...
SNIPER! THOSE SWINES!
He'd almost reached his 16th birthday. Fire a salute, men. Fire a salute.
DOUBLE TOTS ALL ROUND!
Egg - We've beaten 'em. Turn your ship about, or it'll be the lash for you.
Is it too late to defect? I've always secretly liked cheddar you know.
I only turn my coat to serve my country, sir. Think what thou whilst...
Did someone say drink?
I'm going to see if I can capture one, it will make a hansome prize!
Raise the mainsail and raise the ensign high, boys. Set a course for Brittany, the day's ours.
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