My jolly friends,. those days when I was a seafaring pirate, I deemed it a honourable profession to loot and plunder seagoing vessels, with the backing of my aristocrats. there was so much misery at home that we some of us had to be licensed to loot on the high seas. If I remember very well, my license number number was probably 007. I ventured into the Carribbean to flush out those Arabs who were blocking me from rediscovering you. I kept them in their place and sailed on to Africa.

 As you know, we pirates have our God, we are not Godless people, as you may think. Our God is a long-haired blue-eyed blonde, with gunshot wounds through his palms. That is to inspire our viciousness before we take over any ship. In the Indian ocean, my best friend, Vasco da Gama, scored a hit by shooting cannons into East Africa. It was a technological kill. How come you had no cannons to fire back? Were you turning your other cheek for another cannon ball? I had the backing of my Holy Fathers. We snatched one of you off the coast of Gambia, to show our Queen. She liked your capacity and backed us to carry more of you across the Atlantic ocean. Let me be emphatic that we had the support of our God that we have practically handed over to you, so do not expect us to apologise or give you reparations.