When pirates walk the plank.

In the last 10 years, I have witnessed the growth and en masse documentation of many crimes, fraud, drug trafficking, paedophilia and of course, knife and gun crime. Late last year however, saw the rise of one of the most hideous criminal acts, piracy. I am not talking about file-sharing, neither am I talking about buying bootleg copies of the latest Hollywood drivel from a questionably dressed individual in a Tesco car park, no, what I am referring to is real piracy, bands of merry men sailing the seven seas in search of treasure and adventure, wreaking havoc on unexpected sea-folk.

Over the last year, I developed quite the affinity with said pirates. I admired these collectives of young men from impoverished and war-torn countries, trying to earn a crust in a way yet to be depicted by rappers. In an age where CCTV and GPS monitor the movements of the masses, these diehards took to the ‘blue Madame’ to chase success. Voluminous bodies of water, over which man has no real jurisdiction - genius! Today, however my love for these men was sullied.

Late last year, they kidnapped a British couple who were minding their own business, perusing the aquatic terrain and held them hostage, demanding £7million from the UK. The British government, in response to this act of Jack Sparrow proportions, decided that with their policy to never negotiate with terrorists, coupled with the financially lean climate, they would refute the pirates’ demands. This story soon trickled into obscurity, that was until today, when I learned that the pirates have now lowered their demands, from £7million to £2million, asking for just enough booty to cover their expenses.

Expenses? Really? This was not a lunchtime run to Greggs to pick up some iced buns for co-workers, this was piracy, kidnapping! These villains, whose’ criminal activities date back 18th century, had resorted to begging. My heart genuinely sank and my image of a pirate, altered.

No longer do I see them as randy young men, with untrimmed beards, eye patches, the proverbial parrot and conjurers of fine phrases such as ‘argh’ and ‘ahoy’, ready to swash-buckle sea urchins in the pursuit of fair maidens and fine rum No, after this feckless retreat, my mind now, gives them a Frank Butcher-esque demeanour. Thanks this to this spineless backtracking, I now see pirates who don flat-caps, tan sheepskin jackets and who jabber on in a timid attempt to salvage a deal with an uninterested customer, all the while slurping milky tea from a polystyrene cup.

Thanks guys. Now I believe in nothing.