Raise that Jolly Roger!

          Arrr! Matey! At long last I have a reason to write about Pirates! Not only that, but I can blather on about Russia, too– it’s a match made, well, on a gangplank, really. The unpredictability of both parties is such that whatever I write is bound to be proven ludicrously off the mark in moments. Well, I’ve been wrong before, so here goes: the stage is set with Russian warships steaming full speed ahead across the briny deeps, en-route to the Gulf of Aden, where the Yanks are caught in standoff with pirates who have hijacked a Ukrainian ship. I can just see (through my magic telescope, held to the eye which hasn’t got a patch on it, and after I’ve seen what I need to, I collapse the telescope resolutely, and order someone around), anyway I see a man standing on the deck of one of the ships singing “I am the very model of a modern major general…” in Pirates of Penzance style. But here come the Russians! Will they shout “Avast ye Scurvy Knaves!” or whatever that is in Russian when they arrive on the scene? The suspense is killing me.