If you read only one Somali pirate story, make it this one:

“Mummy, mummy, please can I phone the pirates for you?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeez.”

By this time, with rain battering my windscreen and cars jamming the road, I was at the end of my tether.

“OK”, I said, tossing the phone into the back of the car. “They are under P for pirates.”

“Hello. Please can I talk to the pirates,” said my daughter in her obviously childish voice.

I could hear someone replying and a bizarre conversation ensued which eventually ended when my daughter collapsed in giggles.

This was a breakthrough. Dialogue had been established.

(Via EC.)