Awesome-O 3000 Dominates Egads's Final 2009 Joust of Skill!

(Original photo by Flickr user efdisaster)

Sunday's Joust of Skill, the first joust of the day at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, was legendary, yea, even as was the one whereat the Mildmay Device was conceiv'd. It was high-larious. And we owe most of it to the brilliance of Richard Weber as Lord Mayor Egads Newcastle, but the spark igniting the laugh-explosion is shown above. Behold: The Awesome-O 3000, live and in the audience for the Armored Tourney on Horseback.

Richard and I saw him, and, telepathically I think, we agreed that someone so tin-foily could not be ignored. So during the first competition, the Ring Joust, I dashed over to him, greeted him, and asked him if he'd be interested in giving out the first prize of the day. He was perfectly genial, and replied, unsurprisingly, that it would be "awesome." His section of the crowd was delighted, and giggled and clapped excitedly.

When Sir Amedeo had clinched the Rings, I had Awesome-O 3000 ascend the foredeck of the dais and climb onto the little Award-Bestowal Platform, or whatever it's called. Smooth as anything, Richard boomed through the Infernal Device, "Sir Amedeo, come ye forth and receive your prize from your future replacement, the Knight of the Future, Awesome-O 3000!" Sir Amedeo shook his head as he approached: "I don' wannit." Roaring laffs and applause as Awesome-O 3000 looped the award medal onto Amedeo's lance, and then we saw him back to his place.

The second competition, the Obstacle Course, saw Sir Maldron eliminated in the first round. When Amedeo came up as victor for the second time that morning, Maldron (always the favorite of the Dais Crowd) objected, loudly and extensively: "Master of Arms! I protest! You stated Sir Amedeo had no faults. He has MANY faults. He's rude. He smells terrible. He has awful breath. His body odor is detestable. His teeth are nasty. And his mother..." Here the Master of Arms interrupted him, or would have, except Lord Mayor Egads Newcastle overrode them both by suddenly bellowing, "No, Master of Arms, I have to say, he's got a point there. The winner of this competition is . . . Sir Maldron!" Over the thunderous cheers from Maldron's supporters, and the outcry from everyone else, Egads added, "Let this be a lesson to you all. If you complain loudly enough, you get what you want." And the Royal Brass played the Lord Mayor's leitmotif, followed by mine, and we laughed halfway through the next joust.

Third in the Joust of Skill is an actual Joust itself, and happily, Maldron came up the victor for that one too. As I ascended the Award-Bestowing Platform Thingy, Egads thundered, "Sir Maldron, come claim your medal of victory from the hand of the Fool of the Future, Jane-O 3000!" Again with the Big Laffs, and we bid farewell to that day's morning tourney, which was Egads' last one for this year's Royal Progress, alas!