Remember me saying I wanted a really, really nice e-mail?
Last night I got a really, really nice e-mail. Top drawer. Thank you life.
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Sir Gareth didn’t have to kick the shit out of the big guy
after all. Turned out the big guy was no such thing, just a young lad togged up
in all black to make him look impressive. It was all a ploy by his three brothers,
apparently, and Sir G had already sent them packing anyway. When the final
battle came, the ‘big guy’ fell off his horse and it was game, set and match.
Sir Gareth was champ and married... er... that’s the problem. Nobody knows
whether he married Lynette or her sister Lyonors. You’d think Tennyson would have
finished the bloody story, wouldn’t you?
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