Oddly enough, it belongs to a renegade pirate whose motto is “Keep it dark”: Keith Richards.

You’d think that an only child whose mother killed all the pets he kept as companions would not grow up to be so positive about women.

“I put a note on her bedroom door, with a drawing of a cat, that said ‘Murderer,’ ” Richards writes in “Life,” his new memoir. “I never forgave her for that.”

His mom, Doris, who didn’t like the muss and fuss, reacted nonchalantly: “Shut up. Don’t be soft.”

But the first thing he did when he began making money with a little band called the Rolling Stones was buy Mum a house.

His reaction when the Stones started to attract hordes of “feral, body-snatching girls” was not titillation but terror. “I was never more in fear for my life than I was from teenage girls,” he writes. “The ones that choked me, tore me to shreds, if you got caught in a frenzied crowd of them  it’s hard to express how frightening they could be. You’d rather be in a trench fighting the enemy than to be faced with this unstoppable killer wave of lust and desire, or whatever it is  it’s unknown even to them.”

He continues: “The problem is if they get their hands on you, they don’t know what to do with you. They nearly strangled me with a necklace, one grabbed one side of it, the other grabbed the other, and they’re going, ‘Keith, Keith,’ and meanwhile they’re choking me.”