Jackspeak Dialogue

The Old Matelot

“Welcome to my mess deck, Moses,” Said the Killick of the Mess “your pits over yonder, still warm from Izzy, he’s in deeks, left his half-hard books if you want them, handy for a nifty fifty”

“Thank you, But why did you call me Moses.” Said the young sailor, frowning

“Pull up a bollard I’ll spin thee a dit, I’ll be your Sea Daddy, call me Hooks,” Said the Killick, patting the young sailor on the back

“What do you mean?” said the young sailor

“Have an oggie?” he said passing the lad a Cornish pasty “And a glass of limers”

“On this War Canoe, it’s 0700 for breakfast we cackleberries and car smash, a train smash or a Cowboy's breakfast.  1200 for lunch Babies Heads and Bonsai trees  or Cheesy hammy eggy followed by covered wagon for scran cooked by the baby clacker, he’s bells in the head him, but he’s a good egg.” The killick laughed at his own wit.

The young sailor looked confused, the Killick pointed around the mess.

“I’ll introduce you,” said the Killick, with a smile

“Poor Dusty, the custard bosun went for a belly muster because he had crutch rot and they found cupid’s measles, the Dick Doc from Ark said it was the worst he’s ever seen, but at least he didn’t have a dose. Dusty had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, and teeth like a row of condemned houses when Doc told him, he’ll not forget his wellies from the queen again even when he’s hog snarling.”

“See Lofty over there, yep him built like a racing snake, he had to go for an interview without coffee, where the Jimmy read him his horoscope, He’s lucky he didn’t get a short haircut and go over the wall for what he did but weaseled out of it as always. We all stay schtum about that, though, he’s off to the a Trick cyclist next week”

“ And Jesse, he’s all prick and padded shoulders,  he wears a jock frock and speaks jockanese, he’s a junket bosun for the old man. Jesse is a complete muppet, the most useless person pusser ever trained. He is is a complete murderface. He has nautical nausea, real bad, spent a week with his head in the white telephone, Thought he was going to stop his clock, poor bugger.” He chuckled to himself at the memory of his stricken shipmate “Last week,  He was caught up in the nesting boxes, Stole a Jenny’s Rubber Hubby, went to table for that, The Jimmy was not best pleased gave him number nines for that”

The young sailor turned knocking over a pile of beer cans, sending the flying with a crash.

“Sunset, Sir,” Said Tugg from the corner, chuckling.

“So I said to Royal, Up or Down, not sideways,” said another old hand entering the mess with an oppo "Bloody Royals can't use ladders, wedged in the hatch he was".

“Dinger and Windy,” said the Killick gesturing towards the two men, both nodded in acknowledgement.

“On Poet’s Day we watch a Mickey Duck, we like a good shit kicker, then off to grab a granny night or the RN School of Dancing up Pompey it goes from the sublime to the gor-blime in there.” Said the Killick, he scanned the room his face suddenly lit up and he pointed to sleeping sailor “Trunk and Monk, Wiggy there, should have seen the duty skirt he pulled last week, she was proper 10 pints pretty, he trapped her doing a widow’s hop. He’s always yammering about something or other”

“Berma-do, that's the place to be, we went bare buff to banyons, we always had barrel fever the next day.  We’d run ashore in our glad rags for beer, big eats, bag off and back on board. The crushers were harsh when Taff was bombed out and got bollocky buff. Taff had the breaking strain if a warm Mars bar when it came to CSB he should have stuck to dead steam. Me, I prefer a dark and dirty or an electric lemonade, what’s your tipple, Adam’s Ale?”

“The kerosene budgie was burning and turning, the cabbage hats jumped onboard, reading their Globe and Buster.  That paraffin pigeon was humongous.” Said another sailor as he passed by. “Shut that Punkah-louvre, it’s enough to freeze the balls off” He picked up a magazine from the table “The Sports Pages, Phew, Put me down for some of that, The names Spud” He put out his hand. “Uckers anyone? The sun's over the yardarm chuck us a suds. Two’s up on Viz, Taff.”

“Tomorrow, Aggie Weston’s for tea and stickies, you coming along” Said Taff, to no one in particular “might even get a nibble if we’re lucky.” He opened his locker door, which squeaked as he did “Chuck us the Pusser’s fix-all, Nobby” The Killick throw him the WD-40.

“Just one question, why did you join the Navy?” Said the young sailor

“It’s me heritage, son! I come from a long line of sailors, born in a pussers blanket, and a natural love of the sea and all its moods from the long deep blue swell of the pacific to the cold grey chop of the North Sea. Plus the fact that Wrens wear black stockings”

“I’m off to shake hands with my best mate” The old sailor left the mess deck, the young sailor again looked even more confused.

“He’s gone to the Heads to Syphon the Python. It’s all a word salad to you init?” said Spud seeing the young sailors bemused expression, laughing as he turned back to his magazine. “Pumping the ship, he is”

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* With assistance from Jackspeak