[Intro - two posh British nobles, slow spoken] [Noble 1] Ah. The challengers are arriving. [Noble 2] Are they? [Noble 1] Apparently. [Noble 2] I thought this was a jousting tournament. [Noble 1] So did I. [Trumpet fanfare] [Herald - shouted] MAKE WAY FOR ESCAVALIER! [Noble 2] Ah. Now there’s a proper contestant. [Noble 1] Armour polished. Twin lances. Excellent posture. [Noble 2] A knight of distinction. [Noble 1] Of breeding and class. [Noble 2] Forced to compete with the peasant lower crass. [Beat drop] [Darmanitan - slow spoken exchange] [Noble 1] Good Lord. What is that enormous red creature? [Noble 2] Darmanitan, apparently. [Noble 1] Does it always shout like that? [Noble 2] I believe that’s how it communicates. [Noble 1] How primitive. [Fast British rap] Look at him pounding the earth in a rage, Like a drunk from the tavern who stumbled on stage, This isn’t some alehouse where peasants throw chairs, Spill drink on the floor and start pulling out hairs. This is the court, there are nobles about, Yet he carries on raging and foaming at mouth, Fists in the air like there’s free lager near, All muscle, all fire, no thought to appear. One punch can shatter a wagon? How quaint. Destruction is easy when discipline ain’t. Then batter him halfway and suddenly—sit. [Beat cuts] [Noble 2] Ah, yes. The famous Zen Mode. [Noble 1] So he becomes thoughtful only after nearly being beaten unconscious? [Noble 2] Apparently. [Noble 1] Most men use judgment before they’re half wrecked. [Beat returns] [Mienshao - slow spoken exchange] [Noble 2] And here comes Mienshao. From the eastern provinces. [Noble 1] How exotic. Though I confess, I thought cats from thy lands, when invited to dinner, arrived upon the platter. [Fast British rap] Very graceful, very swift, very light on his feet, All sleeves and flourishes, terribly neat, Long flowing fur and a delicate stance, Did he come here to fight or perform us a dance? [ fast British rap] He lashes with fur hanging down from his arms, And somehow believes that those tassels cause harm. Left, then right, little spin, little leap, Marvelous form, though the damage looks cheap. And when matters grow serious, what does he do? He bites off his fur just to see the thing through. [Beat cuts] [Noble 1] He bites off his own sleeves? [Noble 2] Indeed. [Noble 1] How peculiar. His tailor must despise tournament season. [Beat returns] [Fast British rap] Speed is impressive, I’ll grant him that much, But Escavalier wears steel and his weapon are tough. Dash to the left, then scamper to the right, Splendid choreography. When starts the fight? [Trubbish - slow spoken exchange] [Noble 1] Oh, look over there. Somebody call the squire. Somebody left some trash on the field. [Noble 2] Oh no, dear. That’s one of the contestants. [Noble 1] You cannot be serious. [Noble 2] I’m afraid so. [Noble 1] Standards have fallen. [Fast British rap] A sack full of rubbish that somehow grew eyes, Now waddles before us expecting a prize, Born out of garbage and raised eating rot, And someone looked twice and said, “Yes. Give it a slot.” [ fast British rap] How charmingly hopeful, how terribly brave, For something that properly belongs in a grave— No, perhaps in a bin, let us try to be fair, Though preferably somewhere considerably elsewhere. It belches out poison that makes people ill, So does Lord Reginald after six pints at the mill. We don’t give him trophies, we simply stand clear, And quietly insist he not breathe over here. What shall we mock? Its honour? Its class? Good sir, it was literally thrown in the trash. [Beat cuts] [Noble 2] Good heavens. [Noble 1] Somebody fetch the groundskeeper. [Noble 2] Bring a shovel. [Noble 1] And a broom. [Noble 2] And perhaps open a window. [Noble 1] Several. [Trumpet flourish] [Final - slow spoken] [Noble 1] Observe Escavalier. [Noble 2] Still polished. [Noble 1] Still composed. [Noble 2] He never rushes. [Noble 1] Why should he? A noble has servants for running with speed. [Noble 2] Precisely. [Final fast rap] So there we are and the day’s nearly done, A dancer, some rubbish, an irritable sun, One screamed and swung, one pranced round the ground, One smelled so foul half the court left town. [Fast rap] And Escavalier? Still polished, still grand, Twin lances raised with the win in his hand, Three came for glory, three came seeking cheer, Instead they discovered— [Herald - shouted] ESCAVALIER! [Trumpet fanfare] [Outro - slow spoken] [Noble 2] Bit one-sided, wasn’t it? [Noble 1] Terribly. [Noble 2] Still… Better than the rubbish. [Noble 1] Everything is.
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