Within the offices of Transocean Ltd, such a journey might have been described with corporate seemliness as an "end-of-life voyage"; but in the saltier language heard offshore, the rig was "going for fucking razorblades" -- for scrap, to be dismantled in a shipbreaking yard east of Malta. [...]
Back behind the sand, where the beach narrowed and formed an uneven track up to the coastal road, lay the gravestones of a hundred or so islanders. A fractional difference in the gusts and tides overnight, and the runaway Winner might have brought her great weight down on the resting place of one Malcolm MacCauley, whose grave was set closest to the water. [...] However terrific a noise this made nobody was around to hear it, bar the seabirds and snails. The police started to arrive around 7am, as did the first stunned residents.
You may remember Transocean from such previous hits as "Deepwater Horizon (Volcano of Oil mix feat. BP)", and: