George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Then again, when it came to women, he had a girl in every port.
Sometimes, two or three.
The problem was, after a while, the women got to talking, and they felt like they were getting played by George.
One minute, George was at the bar, drinking a tankard of beer.
The next, he was being dragged out by several of his former girlfriends.
They’d slipped a little something into his beer.
Three hours later, he woke up, hanging from a lamp post.
By what, I dare not mention.