Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

A visit to Medieval Times....

Family in town right now and my house is over-run with the pitter-pat, pitter-pat of young feet. Young, juvenile delinquent feet. Yes, the nephews are in town, and what with your Nigel being their favorite uncle and all, expectations are high for fun and frivolity all provided by your truly. I love these kids but they steal shit from me every time they visit, so the house is in valuables lock-down mode right now. I'm working hard on handling the pressure.

Last night, we all trooped off to "Medieval Times". This theme restaurant features knights in shining armour swinging swords at each other while bemused patrons sit in stadium-like array, screaming and yelling for their section's "knight" to kill all the others and thus win the hand of the princess. Horses galloping around, jousting, and fake English accents. Serfs running behind the horses, shoveling up horse leavings from the sand pit. Lots of dry ice providing the faux-Merlin chracter suitable atmosphere in which to cast his spells. Errol Flynn lookalikes with hair extensions, astride their saddles and bedecked in colorful middle-ages regalia, tossing roses to hot chicks in the audience (old drunk Errol left, and old drunk Errol with hair extensions gone bad, right). All this while patrons tear apart chicken legs and ribs with their bare hands. It's all very showy and exciting and well choreographed and fake.

To get a flavour of the experience, think: Harry Potter meets McDonald's, with a touch of World Wrestling Federation thrown in.

The princess was the funniest of the lot. Fair, she was not. She was more...partly cloudy. Looking not unlike the Carmen Diaz character in Shrek, she'd point at the various knights from on high and yell encouragement. "Yea, noble knight, I beseech thee; slay your opponent and felllatio will be yours!" And then she'd do the tongue in the side of her mouth thing while miming a hand job. Pretty convincing, I gotta say. Despite her blatant ugliness, I got turned on, just a wee bit.

Our knight got killed, and the night ended, and the waiter wants to get tipped, so he's up in our faces (me, my brother's), and we pay, and we leave. Returning to the reality of the 21st Century in the parking lot, I was reminded of this joke from the Middle Ages:

Michael the Dragon Master was an official in King Arthur's court. He had a long-standing obsession to nuzzle the beautiful Queen's voluptuous breasts. But he knew the penalty for this would be death. One day he revealed his secret desire to his colleague, Horatio, who was the King's chief physician. Horatio said, "I can arrange it, but I will need 1,000 gold coins to pay bribes". Michael the Dragon Master readily agreed.

The next day Horatio made up a batch of itching lotion and poured a little of it into the Queens brassiere while she was taking a bath. Soon after she dressed the itching commenced and grew in intensity. Upon being called to the royal chambers, Horatio told the King that only a special saliva, if applied for four hours, would cure this type of itch, and that tests had shown such a saliva was only to be found in Michael the Dragon Master's mouth.

King Arthur summoned Michael the Dragon Master. Michael the Dragon Master slipped the antidote to the itching lotion, which Horatio had given him, into his mouth and for the next four hours worked passionately on the Queen's magnificent breasts.

Satisfied, he returned to his chamber and found Horatio demanding payment. However, with his obsession now satisfied, he refused to pay Horatio anything and shooed him away, knowing that Horatio could never report this matter to the King.

The next day, Horatio slipped a massive dose of the same itching lotion onto King Arthur's loincloth. King Arthur summoned Michael the Dragon Master.....

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 6:05 AM