What the flip did thee just flipping gabble about me, thine miniscule bitch? I’ll have thee know I bested the most prestigious jousting class in the whole of Camelot, and I hath been involved in numerous secret marches on behalf of his Majesty, King Arthur, and I hath over 300 confirmed victories on horseback. I am trained in castle of Guerrilla warfare and I am indeed the highest ranking joustee in the entire land of Great Britannia. Thee are nothing to me but another false crossbearer. I will joust thine shambles with precision the likes of which hath never been observed in the King’s lands, mark my flipping words! Thou think thou can escape retribution by shouting that hogwash at me from afar? I implore thee to think again, peasant. As we converse I am contacting my secretive network of knights across the realm and thine footsteps are being traced right now, so thou best prepare thineself for the storm, pig-maggot! The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing thou call your armour. Thou art a flipping dead man. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill thou in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare lance. Not only am I extensively trained in mounted combat, but I hath access to the entire arsenal of the Kings Royal Army, and I shall use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable derriere off the face of the realm, thou miniscule feaces. If only thou could have foreseen what unholy retribution your little “clever” challenge was about to bring down upon thee, maybe thou would have held thee flipping tongue. But thou couldn’t, thou didn’t, and now thee art paying the price, you goddamn fool. I shall shit fury all over thou britches and thee will drown in it. Thou art flipping dead, child.