My Lord, the most gentle Prince of all the realm, spaketh to thy Lord and, upon hearing his reply, made note that we are instructed to hookup in order to save our Kingdoms from the heathen invaders. 

Thy Lord’s message was most clear, our two shires may be separated by many a mile and rivers flowing, and may be bitter foes of ancient times, but we must put aside our respective differences to unite our forces and beat back the barbarian Ottoman invaders, for they cometh to steal our armchairs. 

We have been instructed by our Earthly masters, therefore, to hookup. No matrimonial ceremony is required, they have said, for they have already recorded our marriage in the scrolls and we are, therefore, wed before ultimate power in the land: the bureaucracy. I have already sent my cavalry to thy castle to bring thine beauty hither. 

Hereth in mine shire, we must prepareth the break mine bed. To run ye ol’ rodeo, as they shall say in approximately 500 years. To make the hippity-dippity, a bit of the hanky panky. To take the ol’ one-eye to the optometrist (whatever those may be). We must prepareth to tame the two-backed beast, to dance the devil’s tango, the horizontal mambo. And finally, we must prepareth to explore what Lady Chappel Roan meant when she spaketh “knee deep in the passenger seat of the horse-drawn wagon”. 

You must forgiveth me, fair lady, for mine crass language, but there is no time for niceties. At this very moment, pigeons have reacheth me with words that the Huns have fallen to the Turks, and all their armchairs have been taking back to Constantinople. Make haste, I say, make haste or we will have betrayed our most sacred promises not only to our Lords, but to God. 

PS. 

Get some Canes otw if u can.