In the 70's I was a terrible young man getting into all manner of trouble, my father thought it was best that I went to sea for a while until all the babies were born and everything had calmed doon.
It was late in the year when I signed on to the 'Slocum' under Captain Dampier a cruel and idiotic man who liked to dine on rum and cold vomit mopped up with bread.
It was a sad and oppressive ship and my only friend was Dick, the bulimic cabin boy. The captain thought my friendship with Dick was unhealthy and so left me on an island alone with scant supplies.
On the beach as night fell I shivered with cold and fear as I could hear all manner of ungodly creatures inland howling and hooting and calling out names like " Beelzebub" and "Shake 'n' Vac" so I stayed close to a cave and talked to a tennis ball I had named 'Dunlop' he was a right cunt and kept trying to fiddle with me as I slept.
Soon the beach was full of Sea lions fornicating which isn't as sexy as you'd think so I headed in land.
There were rats on the island who would attack me as I slept and so I tamed a couple of feral cats, 'Miss Sassy Lashes' and 'Eartha Kitty'.
I lived off wild turnips and cabbages along with the goat meat and milk, ach the gas was awful but it kept the mosquitos away, and the rats oh and me cats.
I had one book with me, The Holy Bible, fuck me I wish I had brought something readable a nice Dan Brown book you know something a bit more believable. At least I had some shite wipe, Mark didn't last long as I had the shits and Revelations had blood in it.
Two boats did pass my way but one was French and the other was Italian and I was way too pretty to go aboard those vessels so I hid like an altar boy at a priest convention.
After 4 years and 4 months HMS Weymouth found me, I was covered in goat skin and my English was almost unrecognisable so I had not really changed much.