What saeth oh dark lord, twill be a pushover, thy maid Marion is in turmoil the holes in her bloomers have gotten a whole lot worse, 'twas the seventh glass of mead that did it, she fell off thy ducking stool, pity no watter 'twas a hosepipe ban, I fear maid Marion nurses a sore head and rump end, I expect her to conceed anytime, as for thee thine arrows are sharpened and hitting thy evil normans everytime, we've probably heard the last of maid Marion when she comes to it will all be over ha!! ha!!

Town/City Southampton

Good Sir (that tis a jest for a start!!!)
Thou art a dolt and a clodpoll. Tis folly to suggest that I am in turmoil over the archery contest. Nay, I am but laughing at thy foolish banter. Beware, for Herne the hunter himself has taught me well!
Art there any other brother or sister bowmen or women out yonder that can take this knave down a nock or two!

We shalt haveth to watch the wench they calleth Maid Marion. Letting a wench loose with ye olde long bow, may resulteth in her taking some poor serfs eye out. LOL.

Town/City Romsey

Country England

Tis true brother, a wench with a long bow, thy stocks bekon her!! fear not brother the peasants shall thus thriumph, unless thou wench has a secret army!!!

Town/City Southampton

Thee younge wench they calleth Maid Marion,
Whom wanders but never rushes,
Is proberbly someone else in disguise,
Liketh Olive from On The Buses.

Town/City Romsey

Country England

Probably so but not a pretty !!

Town/City Southampton

Town/City Southampton

Town/City Southampton

Tis well said brother, olive of Normandy i fear, mayhap maid marion duth siddle with thy Normans ? wench thy stocks & ducking stool await thee!! Thou should'st visit Master Miltons olde shoppe for thy new fitting of thy holley bloomers [ fitting No 9 methinks ]& thou besteth maketh thee water tighteth !!!! harr harr!!!!

Town/City EASTLEIGH

Country UK

Why spendeth thy graots at Miltons olde shoppe for thou bloomers, when one can get a better bargain and a more comfortable fit with the wind socks from the local airport.

Town/City Romsey

Country England

Calling all Varlots, Knaves, Peasants, Serfs, Wenches, Slaves, Mistresses, and Damsels in distress, word has just reached thine kingdom from thy Darkest Lord of Twyford and thy greatest Surf in the kingdon of Romsey Lord Craig "Haveago," I call upon ye folks "TO ARMS"!!! sharpen thine arrows, fear not thy stocks, or thine ducking stool they only fit Maid Marion, she has secretly had a fitting unbeknown to her whilst at Mr Miltons last week, poor wench pie eyed on mead again!!

Town/City Southampton

fear not thy stocks, or thine ducking stool they only fit Maid Marion,

Are thou quite sure thine ducking stool shalt taketh the strain of Maid Marion? And if thou beathe right, will thine ducking stool be able to be lifted up once loaded thus? And if ye droppeth the wench into the whatter, wilt thou not endeth up creating a tsunami?

Town/City Romsey

Country England

Duth Miltons Olde Shoppe do cottage marques as well?

Town/City Romsey

Country England

Ah ha, so another piece of spider spittle hath join the Maid Marion Bashing - I care not, for thou shalt all be dancing to a different tune cometh the sixteenth day of June. I know not what this fixation with my nether garments is! Thou are strange and rude fellows.I say fellows, for "men" thou art not!
Tis a vile slur on my goodly name to couple me with the dunghead Normans!! I am a true Saxon of this wondrous and noble land and I am brethren to Hereward the Wake and when he doth find that thou art a mocking one of his loyal subjects, then thy jesting will come to a painful end!
I will see if the targets can be placed at thy feet, just to make sure thee all have a chance of hitting it! Anything further away than that, will leave thee a quaking in thy boots.
If I am a witch then thou had all better watch thy step, my brother in magic Catweazle (a personal friend who lives in the cave down the track from my tree house in the wood) with deal with thee! Ha!
PS mead I likest not! Now a draught of cider or a sloe and juniper berry elixir that tis a different sieve of fleas!

Ha. Thy weazle words worry me not of your supposed prowess with the bow. Your bragging doth cause me no disdain.We from beyond the Gap of Watford,know full well that Maid Marion shall not prevail with her feeble attempts.The lead flashings from her local church,carefully secreted in her poacher's bloomers will verily weigh heavy on her balance,sending her arrows skywards towards the sun. Ne'er to be seen again. And hark ye well that I fear not Lord Graham's Chateau Colostomy. I shall be fortified on the field of battle by copious ammounts of Ye Old Tom-a potent brew to beat all others. You have been warned. I shall take no prisoners. I shall prevail over all others.My ancestor Harold's death will be avenged.

Town/City Stockport

Thou ist correct about the lead flashings that hath been nicked frometh the roof of thy chapel and thus being used to weigheth down the undergarments of poachers bloomers made I mighteth inform thee from a silk parachute procured byeth the Maid Marion for the use thereof, and obtained from the Bursledon motor car boot sale for the princely sum of 4 groats, and frometh the follow advertisment:

SILKEN PARACHUTE FOR SALE.
USED ONCE.
NEVER OPENED.
SMALL STAIN!

Nay, not another two dolts with nothing on thy minds except bloomers!!!! What a sad bunch thou art!! Call yourselves Lords, thou are nothing but maggot poo! - and just as useless.
Dost thee actually know how to hold a bow and arrow? Methinks non of you have the strength to draw breath let alone draw a bow!

So Tis thy lord of the nether regions flexing his dainty bow, the last I saw of him was when he was lying face down in the mud at Hastings, give up now stay north of the gap thou northerners hath no power over us, and what s with this Maid Marion lead lined bloomers she hardly be able to stand let alone draw back thy bow, and where art thou aids from the great forest flown sideways again to thy tower tut! Tut!

Town/City Southampton

I have to agree with thy noble knight Lord Graham. If thee Maid Marion should have her bloomers loaded with the lead of the local church, let us pray that she doeth not have so, as this will make a considerable strain on ye olde ducking stool and will inhibit a herniaus astrinomicalus on any poor soul attemping to lift her on the said equipment. Me thinks that some spell needeth to be said by our good friend Catweazle of the dark path under adamcos, and I hasten to add that lead lined bloomers may constitute a breech of The Health and Safety (etc) Act. 1974.

Town/City Romsey

Country England

My Lord Graham should take heed. I will not contenance such mailicious screed from the likes of him and his soft Southern counterparts. I shall unleash the Whippets of War and the Flat Caps of Doom next month when I descend past the Gap of Watford into your lands for ye revelry. And rest assured that no ammount of lead lined bloomer flashing by Maid Marion will put me off my stride. The mud of Hasting's field to which you refer was no more than a mud pack to instil fear into your feeble troops and any I take prisoner will be force fed Puddings of Black and ye peas of mush.

Town/City Stockport

Please do cometh into the Southern Counties and ye olde Saxon Kingdom of Wessex, as we hold control of the ancient capital of all England namely Winchester where they sayeth that King Alfred the Great burnt the cakes. ( this could have been maid maron who burnt them whilst playing cards )

I HELD A HAND THIS PAST SATURDAY,
IT MADETH MY POOR HEART SING,
IT WASETH THE SWEETEST HAND I HELD,

FOUR ACES AND A KING!

Bringeth it on oh Lord of the Nether Regions, by the hairs of Catweazles beard I telleth thee that my aim is true, and mayhap there shalt be some fun.
I shalt meeteth thee at Hexwood refreshed having arrived using the new magic of this time namely
NETWORK RAIL.

Town/City ROMSEY.

Country ENGLAND

Never hath I heard such bloated egos as from such lowly fellows. Rest assured my letcherous Lord, there wilt be no flashing of anything from me! Except of course the flash of my arrow from my trusty bow, winging its way to the centre of the target!! Tis wise of thee to bring thy whippets, for they canst go fetch all thy arrows that have missed and bring them back to thee to have another try!
As for thy black puddings thou canst stick them up thy tabard.I fear no pudding of any kind (I know Lord Graham and he is pudding enough for anyone!)
As for thy peas of mush - trust ye fellows North of Watisford to ruin a fine and noble vegetable and reduce it so to such a sorry sight.