Mike the f*%@ing Knight

Mike the Knight, he’s a brave young hero. Er… I’ll stop you there.

No he’s not.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do anything that isn’t twattish. If he isn’t breaking something with a carelessly brandished lance, he’s pissing off a dragon. Sometimes simultaneously. He is openly disrespectful of everyone, even his own mother. Having carelessly smashed the handmade vase she made for a competition, he had the audacity to turn it into a shitty mosaic and declare it an improvement. This opinion goes on to be validated when he wins first prize. INFURIATING!

Please, Squirt. Call the RSPCA.

So intent on being knightly, he routinely acts like a complete bell-end, ignoring everyone else and just being a selfish prick. It’s a wonder to me he has any friends left. The long-suffering Galahad could not be blamed for feigning a limp in an effort to be sent to the glue factory. And the way he treats Trolly and his family – don’t get me started.

Go on, Trolly. Do him.

He’s such a little show off. If I was Queen Martha, I’d be mortified. His behaviour certainly doesn’t scream well-brought up, and I’m fairly confident that he’s a hard sell at matchmaking events all over Medieval Europe. It would be a flat refusal from Empress Matilda, and Eleanor of Aquitaine’s mum wouldn’t touch him with a barge pole. But somehow the people of his own village love the metal-headed little scamp.

There’s only one explanation – his dad must be one scary bastard.