by Gideon Defoe
‘No problem,’ said Jennifer.
‘And if it turns out you’re right, Clanky, then I promise you won’t hear another peep out of any of us. I’ll even help you feed me to the bears by showing off my thighs, which can only be described as succulent looking. Well?’
‘Oh, go on then,’ said Nietzsche.
‘Right. So this is Jennifer. You’ve just met her in the park while feeding the ducks. You have to use your imagination. What are you going to say?’
‘Erm . . . Hello, Jennifer.’
‘Hello, Nietzsche.’
‘These ducks are nice, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, they are. Lovely.’
‘So, um, what music are you into?’
‘I like a bit of everything, really,’ said Jennifer.
‘I hate almost all music, especially anything that’s popular. I’m really into, you know, opera and stuff. You’ve probably never heard of most of it.’
‘Probably not,’ said Jennifer. ‘I don’t really follow music that closely. What brings you to the park today?’
‘I’m here to think about things. I’m a philosopher.’
‘Oh, really? How interesting. What’s your philosophy?’
‘I call it “Fascism”. It’s quite radical.’
‘Is it something to do with faces?’
‘Not exactly, although we fascists do prefer to see faces with moustaches on them, topped with a neat side parting.’
‘I see.’ Jennifer threw some imaginary bread to an imaginary duck.
‘Yes – and you know how most philosophers write everything down in big boring books? Well, I don’t do that. In fact, I prefer burning books to reading them.’
‘That’s a bit drastic,’ said Jennifer; ‘you can learn some great things from books.’
‘Perhaps, but it’s my belief that people are basically stupid and any sort of knowledge at all will cause more harm than good.’
‘So what are your main ideas?’
‘Aphorisms are my big thing.’
‘Aphorisms?’
‘Sayings stuff like “If a woman possesses manly virtues, one should run away from her; and if she does not possess them, she runs away from herself”.’
‘OK. But that’s not really proper philosophising, is it? It’s more like what you’d find in a greetings card.’
‘I also want more atrocities and stiffer hats.’
‘It’s got a bit cold in the park,’ said Jennifer. ‘I probably ought to be off.’
‘That’s the cold wind of destiny sweeping Europe, bringing about a glorious fascist future.’33
There was an awkward pause, broken only by the albino pirate doing a duck impression and quacking for more bread. Eventually, Nietzsche spoke up again. ‘So will you go out with me? You have reasonable childbearing hips for breeding a healthy brood of fascist babies.’
‘And . . . break,’ said the Pirate Captain. ‘Well then, Jennifer, what do you think? Should I be buying a new wedding hat?’
‘I’m afraid not, Pirate Captain. What Nietzsche has forgotten is that we women don’t tend to go in for authoritarian dogma. We prefer someone who is good company, can anticipate our feelings and make us laugh from time to time.’
‘And you, Clanky? How do you think that went?’
For a moment there was no reply. Marx, Engels and all the pirates held their breath.
‘It’s . . . erm . . . I realise now that what looked good on paper feels a bit silly when you say it out loud.’34
‘You see? I’m not known for my metaphors, but if you ask me, this philosophy of yours would be like . . .’ The Captain paused, and thought for a moment. ‘. . . like a dirty great boot stamping on the face of humanity for ever. And have you ever tried to make out with a pretty girl whilst a huge boot stamps on the pair of you for ever? It’s not so easy.’
The big metal philosopher let out a sad little puff of steam. Then there was a hissing sound as a door in his chest popped open, and a pale young man with a drooping moustache clambered out from the mess of levers and wires and cams and spindles in which he had been sat. He climbed down from his contraption and sheepishly dusted a bit of oil from his coat.
‘I think I’ve made a terrible mistake,’ he said sadly.
‘It’s all right,’ said the Pirate Captain. ‘You’re just a kid really. We all try to be slightly outrageous when we’re your age. I got my first tattoo about that time.’ He rolled up his sleeve and indicated a faded bluish picture of an angry adolescent pirate saying ‘Parents just don’t understand’ on his left arm. ‘I only did it to annoy them. With the benefit of hindsight I can appreciate that it’s quite a naïve sentiment.’
‘I’m sorry about your pirates,’ said Nietzsche, looking at the bits of squashed pirate that were littered across the stage. ‘And the almost-having-you-eaten-by-angry-bears thing. You must think the worst of me.’
‘Aarrrr. Don’t worry,’ said the Captain. ‘If I’ve learnt one thing as a pirate, it’s that wherever you go, from Chesterfield to Matlock, there are only two kinds of diabolical villain: there’s the misunderstood kind who are doing it for the attention, and then there’s the evil-to-the-core kind. Actually, I’m forgetting zombies. There are three kinds of villain: misunderstood ones who are doing it for the attention, evil-to-the-core types and zombies. And inscrutable foreigners as well. Four types—’
‘Captain,’ said Marx.
‘Yes, sorry. Anyway, I look at you’ – the Captain patted Nietzsche on his head – ‘and I can tell you’re one of the misunderstood types.’
‘I suppose I am a little misunderstood,’ said Nietzsche, sounding rueful. ‘It’s just girls. The truth is, they terrify me.’
‘Of course they do. Everyone’s scared of girls. Even other girls.’
‘Even you?’
‘Oh, yes. Even someone as dashing and debonair as myself has relationship difficulties.’ The Pirate Captain took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a battered photograph.
‘There. That’s the woman in my life,’ he said wistfully.
‘This is a picture of the sea,’ said Nietzsche.
‘Yes, and between you and me she’s a nightmare. Wobbly. All over the place. Always making me ill.’ The Pirate Captain grinned. ‘But I love her nonetheless.’
31 Polar bear liver contains so much vitamin A that it can be fatal if eaten by a human. Not that you should be eating polar bears anyhow.
32 Though, due to its crystalline structure, tin can emit a high-pitched squeak when you bend it, known as ‘tin cry’.
33 Believe it or not, the Daily Mail wasn’t always the enlightened bastion of reasoned debate that it is today. In 1934 the paper even printed an article about Oswald Mosley’s blackshirts entitled ‘Hurrah for Fascists!’.
34 In 1882 Nietzsche arranged for a photograph with his friend Paul Ree, pretending to be oxen pulling a cart containing Lou Salome, who is whipping them. This bizarre attempt at romance failed, as Nietzsche later proposed to Salome and was turned down.
Thirteen
Murder Amongst The Molluscs
Marx, Engels and Nietzsche had all come down to the banks of the Seine to see the pirates off.
‘I’m sorry you won’t reconsider things,’ said Marx, warmly clasping the Captain’s hand. ‘You still have so much to offer the world of philosophical thought.’
‘That’s true,’ said the Pirate Captain. ‘But the trouble with this philosophy lark is that it involves a lot of introspection. And the thing I’m probably proudest of is my near total lack of self-awareness. It’s what makes me the man I am.’
‘Well, look after yourself. Now that this little scallywag’ – Marx gave Nietzsche a friendly wink – ‘isn’t causing us mischief, I feel it is only a matter of time before our reputation is restored and Communism really takes off. Especially now I’ve adopted some of your more pork-orientated ideas.’
‘It’s all in the type of glaze you use,’ said the Captain. ‘I honestly can’t emphas
ise that enough.’
‘And we’d like to give you this, as a going-away present,’ said Engels, handing him a painting. It showed the Pirate Captain looking burly and heroic, stood atop a big red shooting star. The rosy-cheeked peasant girl who seemed to feature in a lot of the communists’ paintings was holding on to his leg adoringly.
‘Aaarrrr,’ said the Pirate Captain, ‘I’m touched. It will go very well with my new giant novelty candle.’ He nodded towards where a couple of pirates were hefting the wax Queen Victoria onboard the boat. Then he turned towards Nietzsche. ‘So then, young man. You’ll remember what I’ve taught you?’
‘Yes, Pirate Captain,’ replied Nietzsche, looking serious. ‘Aloof – funny – deep. Always in that order.’
‘I’m sure the right girl will come along soon,’ said Jennifer. She kissed Nietzsche on the cheek, and he turned a bright shade of red, but grinned from ear to ear.
‘They’re going to kick themselves when they realise that in saving all those crowned heads, they’ve put back the revolution by about fifty years,’ said the pirate with a scarf, as the boat slowly pulled out from the jetty.
‘Yes, I think that’s what they call the ultimate irony,’ said the Pirate Captain. ‘Or possibly the penultimate irony. Because in many ways the ultimate irony is the fact that philosophy has lost us our sponsorship deal. It turns out that Perkins’ Pomades don’t want to be associated with’ – he read from the letter they had received that morning, ‘“– the kind of pirate who ends an adventure with reasoned and sensitive debate rather than multiple eviscerations and/or explosions”. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, or whatever the appropriate expression is in this instance.’
They turned away from watching Paris fade into the distance and looked instead at the pirates who were playing with the various bits of Nietzsche’s gigantic tin suit, which they had brought onboard the boat as a souvenir. At the moment what appeared to be Nietzsche’s hand with some stripy pirate legs coming out of the bottom of it was running about trying to catch Nietzsche’s elbow, which was getting tangled up in the rigging.
The Captain sighed. ‘In a way, don’t we all build up an impregnable metal suit around ourselves?’ he said wisely. ‘Except the suit is made of emotions and neuroses and things, instead of tin, so you can’t see it. And it doesn’t have light bulbs for eyes. And it’s not steam-powered.’
‘That’s very true,’ said the pirate with a scarf, who didn’t have the faintest clue what the Pirate Captain was going on about.
And with that, the pirates went downstairs to do some shantying.
Appendix:
The Wit and Wisdom of the Pirate Captain – a Major Philosophical Work
The Fable of the Pig and the Rooster
In the olden days there was a pig and a rooster, but the rooster was quite arrogant. It was this that led to his inevitable downfall.
On the Question of Ethics
Most people have a ‘moral compass’ – an internal sense that tells them whether any given act is the correct one to do. If, say, someone asked you to run over a load of vicars with a train, you’d have a think, check your moral compass and decide whether or not to do it. You’d need to get hold of a train, of course, but the argument still works.
I’ve taken this one step further – I’m not really one for abstract concepts, because if you think about them for too long your forehead starts to ache from all the frowning. So what I recommend is that you make a real moral compass out of a paper plate. Just get a pen and draw on some ‘compass points’ – for example, mine has ‘Right’, ‘Wrong’, ‘Wrong but feels right’, ‘Will anybody find out?’ and ‘Who can say?’ In the middle, make a little pointer and fix it with a split pin – you can get these from most good stationers. Then when you face a decision, spin the moral compass and see what your conscience tells you.
On the Matter of Love
If you’re off to fight in a battle, snap a ship’s biscuit in half and give your girlfriend the other half. When you meet again, they will match – like two halves of a single soul! Hopefully, this will stop her sleeping with other men.
On the Question of Knowledge
Occasionally, you meet a stupid person who tells you something ridiculous – like he’s bought your book and he can’t help thinking he could have written it better himself. You have to ask him how he knows this and he can rarely answer you – especially when you’ve smashed a vase on his face. But it’s an interesting question. How can we ever say what we know and don’t know? What does it mean to say, ‘I know that egg is hard-boiled’ or ‘I know that there’s a pig hidden under that duvet, and I’m not going to tell you scurvy rotters about keeping pigs in your cabins again’?
In my experience, the best way to find out if you really know something is to ask your second-in-command. Second-in-commands remember all kinds of things that you’ll have forgotten. If you don’t have a second-in-command, then I can’t help you.
On the Question of Gravy Stains
It is my opinion that the best way to get gravy stains out of cotton or wool is to soak the fabric in vinegar for half an hour and then rinse thoroughly with cold water. If this doesn’t work, try burning the gravy off with a match or getting a hungry dog to lick it off.
On the Matter of Kids
There is nothing funnier than a child saying something either wise beyond his years or charmingly naïve.
On the Existence of God
On the face of it, this seems patently absurd. The modern forward-facing pirate uses reason and logic, and isn’t about to accept the existence of a deity without any proof.
Ah! But if there was a god, that might be exactly how he wants it. He might want to be able to move amongst his creations incognito. To do this, he’d need to choose an occupation that enabled him to travel around easily, something like a door-to-door salesman, or a hobo, or even a pirate. He wouldn’t want to show off his all-encompassing knowledge, so he’d probably deliberately get stuff wrong, like, for example, if he was being asked to explain what various nautical terms meant. Also, bear in mind that in all the paintings you see of God he has a great big beard. Anyhow, I’ve already said too much.
On the Matter of Plants
Don’t throw away empty yoghurt pots – they make excellent pots for small plants.
On the Question of Classification
You can divide the animal kingdom into five different classes:
Animals: identifiable by their characteristic four legs, animals are probably the most famous creatures available. Meat comes from here.
Sea creatures: includes sharks, crocodiles, whales, barnacles and other fish. Distinguished from animals by being slimy and more suited to parsley sauce.
Sea monsters: the most fearsome class, sea monsters vary widely. The common theme is that when you tell people about them, they assume you are lying. A fascinating fact: zombies are technically in this category, although none of them live in the sea!
Birds: anything with wings. Birds evolved when the earth was still covered in lava and therefore too hot to walk around on.
Fungus: mushrooms, toadstools and athlete’s foot. If you go for a walk in the woods and see a fungus, why not eat it? It’s a proven scientific fact that a creature that doesn’t move can’t hurt you.
Any creatures that don’t fit these classes are the exceptions that prove the rule.
On Life in General
Life is like a big shanty. Everything will be fine so long as everyone sings in harmony. But if someone plays a duff note on the accordion or tries to break-dance at a sensitive bit, then there will be all sorts of trouble, mark my words.
On Discipline Running a Pirate Boat
An old sock and a couple of shells can be used to create a sock puppet that acts as a useful teaching aid when dealing with the slower pirates on your crew. You can name your sock puppet anything you like, but I’d recommend either ‘Socky’ or ‘Lord Socklington’.
On Delicious Fudge Brownies
>
6 oz rich dark chocolate (minimum 60% cocoa solids)
9 oz softened butter
5 big eggs
1 lb caster sugar
Drop of vanilla extract
41/2 oz plain flour
2 oz cocoa powder
Some chopped walnuts
Melt butter and sugar together in a pan, remove from heat and beat in remaining ingredients. Put the whole lot in a roasting tin lined with greased tracing paper and stick in the oven for forty minutes. Remove from oven and leave to cool on a wire rack.
If any of your pirate crew try and pinch one before they’re cooled, playfully smack them on the back of the hand with a wooden spoon and say, ‘Naughty! Oh no, you don’t!’
GIDEON DEFOE was born in 1975 and lives in London. He is also the author of The Pirates! In An Adventure with Scientists, The Pirates! In An Adventure with Moby Dick, and The Pirates! In An Adventure with Napoleon. You could be forgiven for thinking he is a bit of a one-trick pony.
By Gideon Defoe
ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE PIRATES! SERIES
THE PIRATES! IN AN ADVENTURE
WITH SCIENTISTS
NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE
It is 1837, and for the luxuriantly bearded Pirate Captain and his
rag-tag pirate crew, life on the high seas has gotten a little dull. With
nothing to do but twiddle their hooks and lounge aimlessly on tropical
beaches, the Captain decides it’s time they had an adventure.
A surprisingly successful boat raid leads them the young Charles
Darwin, in desperate need of their help. And so the pirates set forth
for London in a bid to save the scientist from the evil machinations
of a diabolical Bishop. There they encounter grisly murder, vanishing