Has it a Fleg on it?

Well, they would but it would be more of a tea bag effect.

Turd? ...Thought it was a mahogany log. One of the Plasticos for sure as it is countersunk at one end.

Well I am up here in the driving room, no pencil lines on the Map thingy. wheel on auto pilot, long range radar shows land mass off the Starboard bow. I look down and theres the crew standing round the pool contemplating the removal of a log.
Cruising at 15 knots, calm seas light breeze. Time for breakfast I think.
Steward! full English please!

Billy, Old Stock, our multi-national crew are no longer serving breakfast. The Chief Steward tells me the galley will serve up Petit dejeuner, Fruhstuck, Frokost, Desayuno or Almusal; no more emulsified high-fat offal tubes with a touch of the runs in the early afternoon.

Boris has rightly buggered everything.

A new chap suggested that he was joining to preserve his sanity. I suppose we should hang on to one of those boats for him and any others idling under this misapprehension.

On the subject of LSA I hope we haven't got to a break point in the rules SOB-wise. I don't mind us having to carry a doctor but another one or two sparkies would be too much (especially if they're from Hibernia).

The plastico's are still serving me with egg, bacon and high-fat OTs. At least I hope that is what they are, there is no hint of chlorine.

Calm yourself child, :curtain_call: have no fear about the Boris buggeration project, :quill: The normal Ulster Fry will always be available in the injun room cooked by Squeeks fair paws. :big_tongue: Or rather you would know that had you ever set fut in the machenry space :yawn:

If I was you I'd make an appointment to see the medico toot sweet, you appear to have lost your sense of smell or have a blockage in the olfactory system. :shock:

The injun room is Covid free so if you appear anywhere near there until you have been certificated as LURGY FREE you will be formally introduced to Mr Flogging Spanner while Squeek and Eric attack your dangling bits :shock:

I am dreaming of Black pudding.

Or I think I am.

I occasionally dream of black pudding but I dream of white pudding every Saturday night. Lo and behold the Memsahib cooks an Ulster Fry on Sunday morning with many roundels of WP.

The new chap is almost certainly ex Bank Line, that's an open accommodation ladder policy for you.
An extra Sparky would be welcome as the current (sic) model has delusions of grandeur, and we need a Bar Officer before we become insolvent. Our colleagues have deep pockets and short arms. Has to be said.

I don't think that you chaps have any need to worry about viruses. You all seem to have achieved herd immunity to just about everything.
Nevertheless I trust that all rescued shipwrecked mariners will be subject to quarantine..

I resemble both those remarks. Gripewater is not ONLY a solvent.

We are not a herd.
We are a flock or a murmuration. Most likely a murmuration.
Many of the officers, in the privacy of their cabins, have a daily murmuration.
They can't touch you for it, you know.

Only if you start touching them.

Yes I can see murmuration. Definitely a lot of murmuring going on.
But what is the collective word for a bunch of barking mad old fruitcakes...... sorry, I mean a group of nostalgic mature gentlefolk ?

I need to know these things in my capacity of Guest speaker.. or is that guessed speaker?

I think gassed is more appropriate. In the American sense of having had a drop too much and, had you had time to put you head round the engine room access, a description of plumbers' flatulation - no naked flames please (unless amateur drama night).

I was once asked if I had the Injun room scrolls, I said no it was just the boilersuit chafing my thighs :quill:

Hang on I can't read my script. Is there a pharmacist in the house?
I think one might be needed in the engine room as well.

Errrr no sir you have that wrong, I believe Psychiatrist is the trade you meant. Actually the whole crew could keep him occupied for life :jester::hippy:

" what is the collective word for a bunch of barking mad old fruitcakes...... sorry, I mean a group of nostalgic mature gentlefolk ?"

A back-bar is the preferred term, I believe.

Please be careful chaps NO sly digs at the Engineers please. Without them the ship stops.In fact the whole caboodle stops. I have observed that they are getting low on Black bush so tread careful.
our communications/electrical Department being of Hibernian stock can handle it well with well chosen words. Deck officers however are a little more touchy on certain subjects. The Stewards...well they are Stewards
Anyone know where we are headed by the way? I looked at that map thingy but it made no sense to me.

Going? Oh goody, are we going to have destination lecture?
Or don't you do that sort of thing, might spoil the surprise etc.

Jeez Billy you will give Lord V a coronary, he lives on a crooked off-shore islet and regards Hibernian Stock as bog trotters. He probably wrote a strong letter to the BBC about the Last Night of the Proms to reinforce his British identity.
Make ready the medical oxygen.
Rule Britannia.