Hoist the Black Flag

“Come on Nigel, now’s our chance to make a break for it.”

Rog and Nigel slipped from the vault room, being cautious to evade detection.

“Those old geezers, we should have sacked the lot.”

“Right, Rog. Let’s get out of here first, you know those old pensioners have lost their minds.”

“Well it’s all about the efficiency, isn’t it? This bloody antediluvian firm and their antiquated methods and their outdated equipment. Bloody shame, letting their profit margins slip away.”

“Shh… I think I hear them. Singing,,, Sea chanty?” Nigel whispered.

“Oh sod, they’re coming back. Run for it.”

The corporate managers broke for the stairs. But when they approached the top they met the angry, cutlass-wielding mob of accountants coming up.

“There they are boys, grab them,” cried the pirate captain.

The scurvy crew eagerly swarmed over the efficiency experts. Rog and NIgel were carried to the roof and forced to walk the plank at umbrella-point.

Oppressive corporate overlords forget only at their peril:

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.
—H. L. Mencken

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Inspired by this Sunday’s Photo Fiction prompt:

A pre-Victorian building that is now one of the major banks in the UK.

And yes (hell yes) by the Crimson Permanent Assurance skit. The very first thing that photo/style of building reminded me of.

For those of you who don’t know your Monty Python it can be found here:

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