"Tis an impolite tale of he-men and pirates. Imagine the proprietor of a pub and Petey playing the nudge, nudge, wink, wink. The proprietor says: me parrot says there were two trollops. Then Petey says: Arghh, weren't me, matey. Your scurvy first mate did the how's your father last night with his Senga Numpty from East Cundy. They kicked the hole in the wall. At that, he shows the landlubbers a boot-sized hole in the wall."
"Is this the bar scene from Star Wars?" EE asked as he stamped rejected on a query.
"Don't get your moobies in an uproar, ya bilge rat. The grog-stuffed Petey weren't nuthin' but blootered. downright pickled fool. But he has good reason." The author says. "He started out a bright Keelie until his Mumsie starts running her scuddy ass through the streets, screaming like Murton Muffly's lost love that she can't live without her darling baby boy. When he refuses to marry her, she set about gelding him. Almost succeeds too. Got one bollock in a jar of formaldehyde and about to take the other when the Old Bill stop her. Petey's been a piss artist ever since."
"That would tend to mess up your mind," EE said.
"Aye ye scurvy landlubber. That's when they find the two bodies stuffed into a priest's hole near the pocket billiards table. I call the story The Killer's Bunghole."
"Colorful." EE poured a cup of tea. "Would you like a cup?"
"Only if ya fortify it with John Barleycorn. This is a bawdy tale of wenches and squiffy sprogs and their plot to take over the high seas for old Jolly Roger while turning the world into Fiddlers Green for Davy Jones and his men."
"I'm confused. Come back tomorrow?" EE scratched his muttonchops and lied.