The King's view on Bors

The people seem to forget, that being a king is not just riding around in pretty new clothes and repressing the commoners. There's far more to it than that. A king must be able to take on any challenge and out wit his opponents. Occasionally that means facing a deadly black knight in combat, or knowing where to purchase the best shrubbery, or even recognizing when it is an appropriate time to run away. A king must always be prepared for any situation.
Therefore I was a little surprised when my men questioned my decision to employ our newest knight. His name is Bors, and while he seems to be less of a fighter than Robin, and not as comfortable around the ladies as Lancelot... he has a fantastic skill at hunting wabbits...err.... rabbits and other rodents. I'm sure that sometime soon he will prove his weight in gold. At that point,  I'm sure, my men will apologize for ever doubting me.

Bors SMASH!!

Though I have come to comprehend and accept the magnanimous decision of our hallowed monarch to consign my pulchritudinous and conscientious spouse, my ambrosial progeny, and myself to this island Bastille, I do considerate a more familial confinement.  The menagerie of fauna here is quite queer to minimize the verbiage.  Here dwell titanic rabbits with short ears that traverse about in leaps upon elongated hind paws, minuscule bears that consist of more proboscis than anything else, beavers inured with duckbills, and these over sized rodents I swear come from the depths of Hell itself.  The most unsettling however, is this breed of dog the indigenous inhabitants call . . . That . . . CALL . . . THAT . . . 
DINGO EAT BORS BABY!    BORS WANT TAKE ARTHUR HEAD  SMASH  PATSY COCONUTS WITH  SKULL! . . . 
Sorry!  Ever so sorry.  I become a scant  bit agitated at times, especially when I reminisce about the egregious inducements for which I was dispatched to this infernal atoll.  I really was not trying to drown Bedevere's resplendent female sibling as a witch; I simply mistook her for the Lady of the Lake, and thought she would luxuriate better in her innate habitat.  There is also significant defense for my actions that one winter when Guano Knickers Robin let that wretCHED minSTREL wail ON . . . and ON . . . and . . . AND . . .
BORS HUNGRY . . .  BORS TAKE LUTE  SMASH . . . 
Crikey . . . slipped again . . . sorry.  Well one can hardly admonish me for the ire, since there was an significant absence of admonishment when the cannibalistic activities occurred.  I even recall a smidgen, or more, of rejoicing.
Anyway, with much introspection I have matriculated to keep serene, for the most part, and I am looking forward to returning to King Arthur's service in rectitude and a calmer demeanor.  I am also anticipating reuniting with my brother who garners his wages as a sentinel at Swamp Castle.  He could always illicit a better mood from me, that would make me more reluctant to . . . smash . . .    

The following is to be read with an outrageous French accent.

For quite some time it has been very, very, quiet here on the Western front but recently we have seen a massive increase in English pig-dog activity. In the last two weeks alone I have single handedly led the successful taunting of an English army three times.  There is no way of knowing how much longer these silly sons of window dressers will force me to shower them with insults and barnyard animals. So long as they continue to infringe upon my God given right to eat bad cheese and bed hairy arm pitted women I shall stand my ground and continue to wave my private parts at their most cherished family members. On the bright side of things we have recently acquired some large and expensive arte! We were sad to see that it did not contain any chocolate but that did not prevent us from proclaiming it a national treasure and over-inflating its value.

Vive La France! 

Volare me artemon

I am appalled at this trend of pisces ferientes (fish schlapping).  It is not that I am opposed to the practice of inflicting pain; however, pain should only be practiced as a reminder that tartis animi, corpris infirma (our spirits are stronger than our bodies).  Blessed pain should not be used for lustful expressions, especially sui ferientes (self schlapping).  Then there is the issue of the instruments of this miss-used pain; unclean creatures from the sea that swim in their own excrement. That is immoral, unsanitary, improper, and just plain foedus.

God speed our king on his quest for our most holy of relics, so when he returns he can despence some knights to set this bad Finnish influence straight.

As always I leave you with this prayer;
Custodi me Deus, et da mihi sapientiam et ductu ad viam vitae, et ambalat in uiribus ac uirtute.

Brother Ratus Tabula

Unrequited love

Dear Diary,
     Today I saw him again. Lancelot. So big and strong and hot. I wonder if he even notices me. Oh how he takes my breath away! I try to get his attention by singing and dancing but, to no avail. I can't even get close to him because he's always surrounded by men, after all he is a knight, and I shouldn't take it so personally... But  there is a rumor floating among Camelot that he, my brave, courageous, perfectly handsome knight.... Bats for the other team :(
I don't want to give into these ridiculous rumors diary, at first I thought, well, is he truly gay, or just simply, European? You know diary, they bring their boys up different there.... It's culturally diverse. It's not uncommon if he wears a kilt or bears a purse. but, I cannot look past the signs, the times when he stares too long at the other men.... The pointed shoes, the perfectly coiffed hair... The waxed chest... And not to mention his incredible dance moves!
About three things I am absolutely positive: first, Lancelot is gay. second, there is a part of him - and I didn't know how dominant that part might be - that thirsts for the art of dance! and third, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
I will never love another. Nothing can cure this level of devastation. If I cannot be his I fear I shall live alone all the days of my life. Collecting cats and possibly, some shrubbery.