"Help yoursELF to the Columbian Gold on the bar, 'tit vert, while I see about that there wayward instrument" The bosun (what can I say? Some mix up about a secretary and a defence account, I was innocent of course) reaches into the depths of the sou'wester once more, and out pops a harpoon gun. He aims at the creature in the corner and fires.
Liz ducks, Morti gasps. The wee Afghan bodhran is neatly skewered and impaled against the wall panel.
"Got the bugger, and mounted him in one go" he cried. "Bring him alongside and get yer flensing knives out, and I'll show ye how to make a new skin for the stuffed mouse"

Editors Note: No actual bodhrans were injured in any way during the compilation of this thread. Complaints of bad taste, however, should be made in writing & sent snail-mail to Dead Horse Enterprises, Kent, U.K.