"Welcome to Honest Hotspur's House of Armor, Mr....?"
"Henry.
Henry the VIII."
"Mr. Henry the VIII. Considering a new
suit
of armor, are we?"
"Thinking about it."
"Well,
you've come to the right place.
I can see that you're a gentleman, sir,
and
a gentleman needs a custom suit of armor.
Not some off-the-rack bit of tin."
"Are
you saying that I need a custom
suit of armor because I'm stout?"
"I'm
saying that you deserve a custom
suit of armor because you're
a
man of discernment."
"Ah. Yes. Quite."
"Doubtless
you could fit into the
very thinnest of our suits, sir.
But
a man of your bearing...
sometimes he likes to treat himself
to
a little extra room around the midriff."
"A little
airspace."
"Just so. A bit of breeze
about
the torso."
"Yes. I see what you mean. Let's....let's
go
with the air-cooled torso thing. Just
a bit, mind you. Nothing obvious."
"Of
course. If I'm not being too forward, sir,
you also strike me as a man who
might
benefit from a skosh
more room in the codpiece."
"Quite
right."
"It's like they always say, sir.
Big
chausses, big mitons – big codpiece."
"They
say that, do they."
"They do."
"Best
go with the deluxe codpiece, then."
"An excellent choice."
"No
reason to skimp."
"None at all, sir."
"Best
to have a piece big enough for even the biggest cod."
"Just
so, sir. Just so."
