This bombastic proclamation of concern by these Canadian Hair-metal vixens is the perfect choice for Brenda, fresh from her entanglement with Geoffrey. A beer-gutted fellow who 'plays by his own rules', and is also an IT consultant for a large Insurgence company. And indeed, is a man who saw employment as a means to an end to subsidize his true passion: The collecting of broadswords, maces and armour from that golden age of chivalry: the Tudor period.
At first she found this an oddly charming, if expensive hobby, augmented by the fact he referred to her as 'mu' lady', and once quite unnecessarily threw his coat into a puddle so that she could walk across it.
But then it began to become irksome, that look on butcher's faces when he asked for a leg of mutton, and the horrible taste of instant coffee when served in a pewter tankard, particularly when he referred to it as mead. The sprinkling of rose petals upon her bed was nice: until she realized that the florist was being paid from her credit card, a fandango she hitherto wasn't aware of, courtesy of his mad computer skillz.
She found hearing about the crusades interesting, at first. Also watching Excalibur lost some of its luster after about the 30th viewing. Ditto his constant referring to his grubby, one bedroom apartment as "Camelot'.
So where was all the armour? I hear you ask. In a shed at his parent's house, like some ultimate ebay folly gathering dust, like a collection of the most expensive lobster shells in history, albeit with ornate, and frankly over ambitious cod pieces.
The final straw was when he insisted that she wear a chastity belt, and she actually agreed! trying to fit the thing on over her burgeoning thighs like a sort of steel nappy, it was most uncomfortable...with all sorts of nooks and crannies and key locks...the opening and closing of which he held in his possession: a brass key, that he kept in a vial about his neck on a leather string, sequestered under the neckline of his Marillion Tshirt.
