When God created Tracksuit Trousers,
and sold them on his Web Browsers,
not even the Russians raised a sickle,
but today you're in a pickle,
cause when a nice girl walks past,
you had better hide your opinion fast.
Here Endeth 'My Tracksuit Trousers', by Lord Kalthorn
A Knight is sworn to Honour. His heart knows only Virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His might upholds the Weak. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the Wicked.