The man who does our tax is a pirate.
Not a take-all-our-money pirate of industry, or a burn-extra-CDs techno pirate, but a proper, honest, craggy, eye patch wearing pirate*.
And a few days ago I took Bug and Peanut to the park, and we saw another pirate! A lovely lady had taken the tunic, tights and buckled boots look a step further, and added a low slung belt and hoop earrings.
Clearly there are many secret pirates living amongst us. If there's a club, I want to join!
*he did have some reasonable explanation about glaucoma surgery - I chose to ignore this in my desperate hope that there are, in fact, secret pirate clubs in my city...