Joyous Pirate's Republic of Bermuda

"There's an Albatross around your neck All the things you've said and the things you've done Can you carry it with no regrets? Oh, there's a light Oh, oh, oh, there's a light Your Albatross, let it go, let it go Your Albatross, shoot it down, shoot it down When you just can't shake the heavy weight of living..."
 * - 'The Weight of Living, Part 1,' by Bastille.

Oh, like, hey dudes. Oh, man, this is like, super awkward. I mean, I didn't expect that anyone would find my little like, club here. Like, not outside the usual regulars, that is. Like, fuck. I dunno what to say. Er, right, my name's Saint Oliver. Not really, that's like, my producing name. I'm a DJ, all sorts of music up in this place, yeah? Gotta little bit of trance, little by of psytrance, little bit of like, techno. Got it all, yeah? But like, I dunno what I should say. Right, right, okay. Tell you what; we'll chill out later, when like, the music's calmed down a bit on the beach and my mates are sleeping, yeah? Until then, can I hand you over to my Cousin? He's better at like, talking than I am, yeah. Like, just talk into the receiver, and like, he'll be right with you. He doesn't like showing up in person, see? Right. Right? Good! See ya!

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''Yes? What the hell do you want?''

...''Oh? Oliver told you that I could answer your queries? About this Bermudan Hellhole he's running? Fucking fine. I'll talk to you. You may as well get a clear picture from the person who's really running the show around these parts.''

''What? You thought Oliver was in charge? Please! Oliver can barely string a sentence together if I'm not around, that's how brain-dead he is. I'm the one that makes this ship run smoothly, efficiently. Can't do that much, however, what with all the pirates running around, fucking up my day-to-day schedule. I'll give you a base-line here, however. This is a mercenary clique. The Tyrannies, and the other dregs, hire these little play pretend pirates to do their dirty business. Oliver swings around like Errol Flynn's retarded brother, pretending to be a pirate king. The rest of the cretins here are wasteful, drunken morons who expect handouts just because they're poor sailors with more rum than blood in their systems. I fucking hate it here. I can't leave, but I wish I could.''

''Fuck it. If you're not going to leave me alone, I guess I'll tell you more about this place. Not that you deserve to know. You disgusting parasite. But what the fuck ever. Sit down, shut up, and listen here, because I'm not going to repeat myself, and I'm not answering any questions, alright? Alright. Good.''