Here was Doolin’s goad:
That? That is the best you have, mongrel beasts? My friends, I am twelve pounds. I have the markings of a bra emblazoned on my chest. And I have a Mohawk that will not stand.
But you go instead to my fighting. My people are those who invented violent uprising. My Norman ancestors spread their culture only as they spread the blood of their enemies. We are the children of the guillotine.
We are the inventors of the face slap, the spirited barb, the insult delivered with flair and panache.
I will meet you again in battle one day. And my biting sarcasm while bore into your tender, exposed psyche like a poison dart.
H & R’s response: We fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster, and
your father smelt of elderberries!
(I let them watch Monty Python. The French Soldier is their favorite character.)
TAGS: Awst | AwstChallenge | Doolin