The HMS Bastard shook violently as the iceberg struck, sending me hurtling backwards, spilling some of the whisky from my hip-flask as I did so, which was rather irritating. As I collided with a particularly stubborn wall, I heard a small noise in among the screeching cacophony of twisting metal. It was a gentle, sobbing sound coming from a nearby cupboard, and reasoning that cupboards, on a whole, are not prone to bursting out into fits of despair, I deduced that someone must be lurking within. I made my way over, wobbling and teetering all over the place as I did so, (but still with a certain degree of style and panache), and flung open the doors of the wailing wardrobe.

“Botter!” I exclaimed, upon clasping eyes upon my man-servant, who was cowering in the furniture. “I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you, my man!”

Botter sniffled, and dried his eyes. “It…it’s good to see you too, milord,” he began, before I quickly pulled him free from his hiding-place, and then hurled him through a nearby window. There was an almighty crash as the glass gave way, and then the wretched creature screamed as he plummeted from the ship, landing with a huge splash many feet below.

“That fellow always manages to turn up in the nick of time,” I mused aloud. “Now I can make my escape from this accursed vessel!”

By now, the ship in question had let in rather a lot of water through it’s recently-torn hull, and so I had to tread carefully as I hoisted myself up onto the edge of the window I had just opened with Botter’s head. I looked down at the sea below, and gently steadied myself for the descent.

“BOTTER!” I yelled from the stricken craft. “I AM COMING DOWN. BE SURE TO CATCH ME, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL TEAR YOU A NEW ARSE-HOLE!”

Botter grudgingly swam closer to the ship, and readied himself. I took a swift swig from my hip-flask, straightened my tie and hat, and leapt.

“I’m sorry, milord. You just came down too fast,” Botter whined, as we swam away from the HMS Bastard, which by now was slowly sinking beneath the waves. I snorted loudly.

“I do not wish to hear your pitiful excuses, Botter,” I said. “Just prepare yourself for a life of extreme discomfort and shit-covered shoes.”

We swam out of harm’s way, and then turned and watched the great Bastard slip beneath the water. In the distance, small lifeboats crammed full of less-deserving passengers made their way out to sea, while we remained paddling in silence.

“What now, milord?” Botter asked.

“Well, firstly I shall allow you to carry me onwards. It simply will not do for a man of my standing to be seen thrashing about in the water like some sort of deranged fish.”

“Very good, milord,” said Botter, as I clambered upon his back.

“Now!” I exclaimed, as I assumed my new position on board my make-shift, servant-shaped raft. “I believe we shall head in…that direction,” I said, pointing towards a vast, empty expanse of ocean ahead of us.

“Are you sure?” Botter replied, daring to question my superior intelligence.

“Shut up,” I snapped. “And keep swimming,”

- Lord Likely, whose rather dampened spirits have been lifted by humor-blogs.com and the amusing antics of The Carrotty Kid.

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Two days passed while I attempted to track down my errant man-servant, Botter. I searched the cabin for clues, but got somewhat distracted when I realised that some of the alcohol in my drinks cabinet was missing. Enraged that someone would stoop to such low levels of villainy, I made sure that the rest of the booze was safely stashed away in my stomach, where no thieving scoundrels could get at it. Of course, the downside to this otherwise brilliant plan was that I ended up rather drunk, and soon wound up passing out on my bed while attempting to crawl into a large painting of a meadow on the wall of my room.

When I regained consciousness, I decided to confront Captain Anchor about the recent events on his vessel. I had found this particular voyage to be rather unpleasant, what with a derranged doctor attacking me with a corkscrew in the lavatory, my man-servant being stolen and my precious booze being purloined by unknown ne’er-do-wells, and I fully intended to make sure the Captain was fully aware of my acute displeasure. So, with a new-found fire in my belly (possibly as a result of all the booze I had consumed), I set out to give the Captain a piece of my mind.

“Now look here, Mr. Wanker or whatever your ruddy name is,” I snapped as I strode onto the bridge of the HMS Bastard. “While I am a reasonable man, I must take great umbrage with the outrageous behaviour of some of your passengers. It simply is not cricket, nor is it – “

I stopped in mid-rant as I became aware that absolutely no-one was in the room. Not only that, but the ship was still happily ploughing through the waves, and seemed to be on a direct collison course with a ruddy great iceberg.

“Well that is just cocking well fantastic,” I said aloud to no-one in particular, before jumping onto the ship’s wheel and making a frantic attempt to steer the ship from harm’s way. I wrestled furiously with the controls, until, to my great horror, the wheel came away in my powerful hands.

“Oh, shit-covered bollocks!” I exclaimed, making a last-ditch attempt to escape the imminent disaster by leaping from the ship. Alas, the doors were locked fast, leaving me entombed in the bridge. I sighed, took a swig from my hip-flask, and watched as the iceberg loomed ever nearer.

“I fear this may well sting a bit,” I said.

Then, the HMS Bastard struck the iceberg.

- Lord Likely.

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