Ghost Ships

Hypothetically, paying to go upstairs at the Crown and Anchor is like paying to listen to bad pop music at the supermarket: wasted money on an activity you’d honestly much rather avoid. The balcony is ancient, and provides a view of Grenfell Street, which is about as busy and entertaining as the vacant highways in Zombieland.
We handed over our five dollar entry fee to the door guy, who rewarded our trepidation with an invite to hang out with him while he finished his book. Tempting as that was, we trotted upstairs to Ghost Ships, a many roomed and slightly claustrophobic den, opening out onto the aforementioned Cranker Balcony.
Being an old wino, I was dismayed to find they had no white wine for me to imbibe. However, I rallied upon the offer of well priced cider. We passed a mini dance floor with some kids stumbling about wearing helmets made up of LED lights: their heads looked like they were being engulfed by glow worms. This was, and remains, a very confusing feature for me. Are the helmets supposed to aid the dancers, or hinder them for the amusement of other punters?
Not unlike grumpy cats, zombies, and donkeys, pirates have become somewhat marketable. And I for one, support any opportunity to make pirate puns. This sea shanty is decked out with some fantastic art, along with rustic candelabra’s, lights that look like messages in bottles, planks of old wood held together with rusty nails… yarrrr! I was also informed of something called a cargo hold room, where I assume people, um, sit around holding onto cargo.
Why are pirates so loveable anyways? Is it Johnny Depp? Captain Hook? The pirate English option on Facebook? Dunno. They just arrrgh.
N.B: They also serve what I’ve heard are delicious foodstuffs at certain times under the moniker ‘Mr Briskets.’ Pleased to meat you good sir!