Dear Mr. Johnny Depp,
Actually, is it okay if I call you Jack? Captain Jack Sparrow, that is. It's just that ever since I saw the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie I've had this insane crush on you. Well, not you, exactly. Your character. Captain Jack.
I don't know if it's the smokey kohl-lined eyes, the hair full of god knows what, the perpetual tipsiness, or your startlingly believable fey mannerisms that launched a thousand slashfics—I just love you, Captain Jack. I could watch you swig heavily from a rum bottle and refer to random people as "luv" all day long. I dream of watching you manhandle that steering . . . wheel? . . . thingie . . . on your beloved Black Pearl. I have, frankly, a rather X-rated fantasy that involves a lurid scene between you and Will Turner and a lot of naked swashbuckling—but, ha ha, I digress.
So listen, I know I'm not as cute as a nine-year-old British girl. Let's be honest, this letter Beatrice Delap of Meridian Primary School in London wrote you is downright adorable:
'Captain Jack Sparrow: At Meridian we are a bunch of budding young pirates. Normally we're a right handful but we're having trouble mutiny-ing against the teachers! We'd love if you could come and help. From Beatrice Delap, aged nine, a budding pirate.'
I can understand how you found that difficult to resist. There you were, right nearby in South London filming the fourth Pirates movie, and so you decided to show up at this girl's school—in CHARACTER—and subsequently blow the minds of every student and teacher there.
You, sir, are awesome.
Captain Jack, I'd just like to say that I too would very much like to request a personal visit. I may be older, far less charming, geographically inconvenient, and I can't provide such a fantastic PR opportunity . . . but are we not all budding pirates?
Thank you for your time, and I hope to see you soon, Mr. Sparrow. Er, Captain.
Linda Sharps, aged thirtyharrrummmpph.
Image via Disney
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