Week Eleven: The Pirate Party

On Friday the fifteenth we set sail;
Be here at eight bells without fail.
We're off seeking treasure of diamond and gold;
So come dressed as a pirate most bold.
The crew is made up of buccaneers of renown;
No cleverer crew could ever be found.

Arr, matey. There. Now that that is out of the way, we can get on with The Pirate Party. And it's a pity that Cokesbury didn't continue the potentially wonderful limerick they started with their invitation poem, which they recommend should be written on a cardboard dagger in red ink (both obtainable, presumably, from you local fine-and-time store, since they stock paper hatchets as well (see the Washington's Birthday Party)) or on paper with the edges burnt off.

But before you even get this far, Cokesbury suggest you re-read (not just read, that you've read the book is assumed) Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island to "refresh [your] memory concerning this adventuresome tale." TI of course was the epitome of piratey life in 1932. Today we have so many choices. But since y'all will go with the obvious choice, I'll automatically suggest you re-watch (that you've watched it already is assumed) Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Do NOT watch (or re-watch) the second installation. It's always been a rule of thumb to me if the best lines of a sequel are lifted verbatim from the original movie, the sequel isn't worth the celluloid it's printed on.) I'd much rather you based your pirate party on Cutthroat Island, than the second POTC, even exchanging Geena Davis' witty dialogue for Johnny Depp's.

But back to the party. First order of business: Costumes. Here's what Cokesbury recommends:

The boys should wear knickers and colored shirts, black being the pirate color, bandanas, faces colored with rouge, mustaches and eyebrows penciled. An improvised dagger should finish off the costume. The girls should dress much the same, with the exception, of course, of dresses, which could be patterned after a gipsy or Spanish style dress.

So, the ladies may, if they wish, bear mustaches, you heard it here from Cokesbury. Note the general absence of buxomness or zaftigness in the ladies' costumes. Watching modern pirate movies might make one consider that such attributes were standard equipment for pirate wenches. So do not be afraid to stray from the cliches. Go with the mustache.

Now, we all know that pirates perfer a certain ambience. If POTC movies are the order of the day, ensure your decorationsa re along the lines of tatty curtains, mouldy, half-rotted timber ships, lots of darkness, swamps, maelstroms (this could generally be achieved at the home of a couple who have more than three small children living with them) and other general piratey nastiness, such as a pig sty (perhaps left over from your St. Patrick's Day Party). Cokesbury, of course, goes all-out for this specacle:

Skull, cross bones, and black flags are emblematic of pirates, and these should be used in decorating for the party. A room might be arranged to resemble a ship, with an entrance in the form of a gangplank. Also a pirate's den might be arranged for, and with colored lights and long cardboard swords and daggers a weird effect might be created.

This, you've got to understand, is 1932 Cokesbury really, really, really letting its hair down. This is a book written by a Methodist for Methodists and suchlike. So to have a "weird" effect -- even if it makes your guests think a disco ball will be dropping out of the ceiling any minute -- is really taking it almost as far as one can go.

So the stage is set. The weird effect is achieved. On to the first piratey game of the evening: Bingo.

Mixing Game: Pirate Keeno. When the guests enter, they are each given a pirate name taken from Treasure Island. Of course all the characters in Treasure Island are men; so it will be necessary to put a Miss or Mrs. before these names. The following is a list of names of these pirates: Black Dog, Billy Bones, Captain Flint, Dirk, Jim Hawkins, Long John Silver, Squire Trewlawney, Dr. Livesey, Tom Morgan, Captain Smollett, Job Anderson, Barbecue, Captain Kidd, Tom, Alan, Ben Gunn, Isreal Hands, Abraham Gray, Mr. John Hunter, Dick Joyce, Thomas Redruth, O'Brien, George Merry. Other pirate names that are familiar to the group may be used, such as Gasparilla.

For added entertinament value, assign the names Mr. John Hunter and Dr. Livesey to the more anal retentive female attendees, so they have to have names like Miss Mr. John Hunter or Mrs. Dr. Livesey. That last one makes me shake in me boots in fear. And Gasparillia? Sounds like a drink made out of watered grog and soda water. But no. (I will have it noted I came up with the drink connection BEFORE I read about Gasparilla the Pirate.)

Anyway, back to the bingo. Once guests have been given their assigned names, they are to write the names out on a bingo board (Cokesbury calls it Keeno, for some reason, probably some Methodist way of keeping the curse off it). Then the names are called out. The guest attached to that name stands, so everyone knows who to call Miss Dr. John Hunter. Once a guest has completed a bingo/keeno row, he or she shouts "Keeno!" (I suggest penalties for those who forget and shout bingo) and the game is won. If this game doesn't make your guests say "Yarr!" with feeling, then nothing will. Or perhaps the next game will: A court trial.

Victim. The leader has cars numbered from one to the number of guests in the room, These may be made from any small pieces of cardboard. Each guest is given a number and told to keep his number secret. It is explaiend that the person who holds number one is to be the "victim," number two the "criminal," number three the "prosecuting attorney," number four the "attorney for the defense," number five the "judge," numbers six to seventeen the "jury," and the rest may be summoned as witnesses.

The lights are then turned out, and the victim, number one, is supposed to play dead, number two is supposed ot act like he has killed someone, number three then shows up and begins to question him, number four to defend him, and the judge to preside over the court, and so the case continues. The jury theng et together and sentence the criminal.

So, keep the numbers secret, but as soon as the lights come back on, make sure you're acting out your roles as if you're in the next Gilbert and Sullivan. And since we're into the Treasure Island authenticity, don't make the numbers out of any old cardboard, but cut them from a Bible as Stevenson's pirates do. And sicne we're dealing with pirates, dispense with the show trial and get straight on to the hanging. Be sure to invite lots of unpopular guests, for Cokesbury suggests:

This may be done a number of times and, if carried out properly, will create a lot of good fun.

For the survivors, there is a further winnowing process, this time involving walking the plank:

No pirate party could be an orthodox party unless the victims had to walk the plank. Each person is told that he must walk the plank blindfolded and jump over a pan of water at the end of the plank. After he is blindfolded, the pan of water is removed. The unwilling victim jumping wildly in the air attempting to jump over the water will occasion much merriment. In the game of Victim suggested above, if nothing else can be thought of as a sentence for the criminal, he may be sentenced to walk the plank.

Yes! Nothing need be unorthodox at a Pirate Party. Nor orthodox, for that matter, as we all well know the Pirate Code is more guidelines than rules.

So remember, for a successful pirate party, Cokesbury recommends disco lights, bingo, melodramatic roleplay and jumping around like a cretin. With the bingo exception, that describes the second POTC installment. So I suppose you could watch (or heaven forbid, re-watch) that film in preparation.

One more thing: Refreshments. Cokesbury recommends sandwiches served with a falgon of "ginger" ale. Maggotty bread optional.

Thank'ee fer comin, me piratey crew. Next time, we be tryin' our luck with Cokesbury's Try-Your-Luck Party. Until then, yarrrr.