What ho, old sport! That was popping good fun, wasn't it? Oh. Dear me. I mean, gnarr!  Orcs!
Your defeat is like a flourishing galleon, pierced by the fiery darts of Lothlorian and sinking beneath the waves of your own dismalitchoo! I sure hope those elves aren't going to make me get on a boat again.
(Dancing on moonbeams? Snacking on muffins and sun tea?)  Get out.
I would finish you now, but I'm too tired. Count yourself lucky.
