It slices as it dices as it chops as it ...

"Oh no, Sir knight ... Sorry, just a squire you say?  My apologies, only I thought, what with your noble bearing and the way your discerning eye led you to this little beauty ...  

Yes, the Excalibur XL.  Wonderful model of sword, sir - apologies again, so hard to call you 'squire', you've just got something so knightly about you  - wonderful model the Excalibur XL.  Lovingly handcrafted by artisan dwarfs from the finest organic starmetal and then sent to our enchantery deep within the mountains where a round-the-clock team of expert wizards imbue it with ....

... but I see I don't need to bore sir - there I go again - with the patter. Magical, sir?  Oh yes indeed!  Just look at the inscription ... 'Almost as if it were slapped on by an illiterate junior bellows-boy in the back of this very smithy', you say?  Sir has the knightly wit already, I see".

[The British Library needs someone to translate a magic sword for it.  This is, of course, marvellous].

Of course, I should really have been writing ...

I should have been writing.  For the past six months.  But I wasn't. At least not really.  A few sketches here, lines for video games there, lots and lots of script-editing and line-tweaking and, oh-dear-this-scene-will-have-to-go-ing.  And then a holiday. But no 'proper' writing.

But I did go to the Jackfield Tile Museum on holiday, where I read that in March 1830, Alderman Jones recorded in his diary that the landlord of The Lloyds Head ...

'was catched in bed with another man's wife at Worcester by the woman's husband, and the husband stuck a pickel in his backside which caused him to run away without his cloths and after that he offered 15 shillings to make it up'.

... which makes up for everything.