O, ye Buggerers!
'Tis Jon by which I am known, and I detest thee and thy lot! Thou art larded, simple, poxbearers who spendeth thine days gazing upon murals of folly. Thou art all that is impure within His realm. For sooth, hast thy lot ever known the pleasures of a woman? Surely thou thrusteth thine jests upon others duest to thine own inability! Yet ye knoweth no boundaries! Worse yet, doubtless, than touching thyself impurely whilst gazing upon portraits!
Be not of foreign ways! We shall joust for sport for I am unassailable. Led many a man in battle and tournament, have I! What contests dost thou knoweth? Pleasuring thineself to those of barbaric persuasions? For too it is said I am scholarly and known that I am betrothed to the fairest of maidens! (The lady doth swallow my member; 'twas the COIN of the realm!). Thou art buggerers of boys who should just endeth thine own lives. Thou hast pleased me with thy audience.
Beholdeth a relative portrait: 'tis me and my wench