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3rd August 1189

Earl David’s nephew (he hasn’t got any sons) has turned up from Locksley Manor. He’s called Robert, and he’s a right Hooray Henry. He keeps throwing bread rolls about at dinner and shouting “Ripping wheeze, what?” Upper class twit. I suppose he’s harmless enough. He’s getting married next summer to a girl called Marian. Actually, she calls herself “Mawian” as she can’t pronounce her ‘r’s. She keeps saying things like, “Oh, Wobin, you are weally scwumptious!” She always calls him Wobin – sorry, I mean Robin – instead of Robert. It’s a sort of pet name. She’s got a laugh like a donkey with tummyache.

At least Marian has half a brain, which means that the two of them have got about three-quarters of a brain between them. I dread to think what their kids will be like.