Dreambook - The Pirate's Cove

Who goes there?

What in tarnation am I supposed to ask now? Oh, yeah. Email?

Whatever the bloody hell THAT is. Now what am I supposed to -- oh. Do you have a house page?

You KNOW what I meant. Anything else you have to say for yerself?

Who've ya come to get a little 'alone' time with, if ya catch my drift?

Any son of a sea-biscuit you'd like to see dance the hempen jig?

Oy! You want try Cookson's special crab-and-seagull flambé?

Don't. Trust me, bucko, there's evil in it. *pokes the flambé with a stick*

You sorry excuse for goat cheese, Robert Mullins! Just for zat you no get dessert!

Private?