Today we have the rare opportunity to speak with one of the most notorious pirates in history. He's sailed the seven seas, plundered many a ship, keelhauled countless unlucky souls, and is the scourge of children everywhere. Of course I'm referring to none other than Captain James Hook.
Greg: Welcome, Captain Hook. I must say, I'm surprised that you left the comfort of your ship, the Jolly Roger, to visit us here on dry land.
Hook: I find it amazing myself, but when I heard what an enjoyable time my friend and colleague, Captain Burt Sharky had with you, well how could I resist the invitation?
Greg: Well, I must say that for a pirate you are incredibly, um, well spoken.
Hook: Ah yes, that does tend to throw one off I've found. I must admit that most pirates I've been exposed to are terribly uneducated and, er, course. I, on the other hand--or should I say hook?--was fortunate enough to attend one of the finest colleges in Her Majesty's empire in my youth.
Greg: Oh yes? What college was that?
Hook: Eton College. I was studying political science, but I also enjoyed the arts, especially the works of Shakespeare. Unfortunately, my father, a nobleman of some renown, took me out of school and sent me to sea. That, alas, is where I have been ever since.
Greg: You sound depressed about that. I always pictured you as the scourge of the sea. It seemed like you enjoyed it.
Hook: To the untrained eye it might appear that way. I must admit that a pirate's life is, in many ways, wonderful, but they are such an uncouth lot. It really is too horrid to deal with at times. Still, the money's good, and there is a certain thrill in looting a ship and its crew.
Greg: Although there is an element of danger. All sorts of things happen to pirates. The lose legs, eyes, even hands...
Hook: Aye, 'tis true. As you so clumsily implied, I have been a victim of just such a catastrophe. However in my case, the catastrophe lies not in the losing of the hand, but in how it was lost. While other pirates battle grown men, I am forced to cavort with a boy.
Greg: Oh, yes, you mean Peter Pan.
Hook: Vex me not with that foul youth's name! Yes, I admit that I lost my hand to a mere boy, a flying boy mind you, but nevertheless, a boy. To add insult to injury, he threw my hand to a crocodile who has followed me ever since, waiting to eat the rest of me. So yes, the last vestiges of sanity have been torn from my by a scurvy brat and his band of rabble--Lost Boys they call themselves! Would that they were!
Greg: Well, it seems I've hit a sore spot. Sorry about that.
Hook: Oh, forgive me. I still have trouble controlling my emotions where that whelp is concerned. But I ask you, how could a child continually get the better of me? It isn't fair. I've worked to become hated, nay, feared. I believe that on the whole I've been successful, but then talk turns to that Peter Pan, and the whole thing flies out the window--no pun intended.
Oh I wish I'd never gone to sea. Politics would have been better. I mean, would it have been so bad, Parliament, I mean? If I had been an MP, I would not have to deal with the lot of silly rubbish that I have to deal with in my present situation. Oh well, hang on, I think I'd have to think that one over a little more carefully.
Greg: Well, we'll just let you mull that over, eh Captain? After all, the grass is always greener off the port bow, right?
Hook: Yes, yes, I see your point. I mean it's not such a bad life, really. I can set my hours, and I'm my own boss. Umm, uh, do you hear something ticking?