Joseph the Super-Squire: my 16 year old alter-ego kicks HEMA ass

Joseph all geared up and ready to go

Normally this blog is about me and my serious study—though a lot of other people seem to find it funny—of German Longsword. But today I have to tell you about my alter ego Joseph because he did some epic fighting on the weekend.

Joseph is the guy who poses for me in the pictures I put up on my blog. We look a lot alike actually except that my eyes are blue and his are brown, and we’ve had a similar story because he spent most of his first tourney running backwards too (though he didn’t trip over his own feet like I did) and now he’s a really good fighter. AS YOU WILL HEAR.

This weekend was the inaugural—aka first—WMAA (Western Martial Academies of Australia) tourney held in South Australia. It was organised by ASA (Adelaide Sword Academy) and GLECA (Glen Lachlann College of Arms) came over from Melbourne to help run it, and it was an epic day.

“Combatants FOCUS”

And Joseph, who turned 16 a week ago, was the youngest competitor there.

I would have liked to be there too but though I am 3 weeks older than Joseph Master Raske says I can’t compete in adult tourney until I have

1. Learnt when and WHEN NOT to use my fighting skills,
2. Acquired some more fighting skills and …
3. Passed my squires test (which will involve achieving a and b)

(Catch Tilly—who writes this blog—says I could not have attended because I don’t technically exist in the same world but I think she is being narrow-minded, and anyway I had a Facebook page before she did so in the modern—aka virtual— world that means I have more reality than she does. Though I wouldn’t say it like that because that is rude and Master Raske says that a knight is always courteous.)

Joseph scores an early hit – cleverly outranging his opponent

But Joseph did go to the tourney and even though he lost two out of his first three bouts he still did well enough in points to scrape into the finals as number 8. Then he had to fight Tim Harris (who was ranked number one) because they do an 8 against 1 draw.

And I thought he was doomed.

The estimable Tim Harris, swordsman and swordsmith and gentleman of letters

They lined up against each other, Joseph in red and Tim in black (and a kilt because he’s a GLECAN and they have Scottish roots and also have the self-confidence and awesome martial prowess to not mind wearing a skirt).

And I wish I could remember exactly how the fight went, but I just expected Tim to annihilate Joseph (imagine Yoda fighting Jar-Jar-Binks but with less jumping around) and I wasn’t paying much attention.

And Tim did get the first shot in. But then Joseph started to defend himself really well. He’s got this double krumphau parry that his instructor Mark has taught him. (Mark is a lot like Master Raske and usually poses for him in the photos but Master Raske’s hair is shorter and he’s more serious though they are both awesome fighters). Anyway Joseph was parrying like anything, beating down Tim’s gut shots and then he got a head shot in.

And then Tim got another shot but so did Joseph and suddenly Joseph was ahead and I don’t think anyone could believe it.

And though there was some dramatic moments like when Joseph had to leap out of the way (which is where skill in running backwards does come in handy) and another time when he nearly lost his sword  he stayed focused and in control and finally the score was 9 to 8.

And you have to get ten points and a head is worth three and a torso is worth two and an arm is worth one so even though Joseph was still ahead it was anyone’s game and if he made one mistake he would have been toast. And I think I would have played safe and tried to get an arm shot but that wasn’t Joseph’s way.

He went straight in, under Tim’s sword in a beautiful mittelhau and out again cleanly and the whole audience cheered because it was so cool and Tim took off his mask and clapped him on the shoulder and laughed because that was his signature move and that was the best way to lose a bout.

And Master Raske says that not only do you need good technique and timing to do that but also real guts and Joseph showed all three when he did that move.

And he wasn’t a bit surprised (and neither was I) when Joseph won the Combatants’ Choice award for the coolest move of the day. I was super impressed by the sportsmanship and chivalry that all the adults showed – the way they generously welcomed Joseph in – and I think the fighters of ASA and GLECA are true knights.

The Combatants Gathered

Joseph receiving his award.

In the words of Tim Harris, his opponent:

“Something happened to Joseph in between my first bout with him and the last. I saw a lot of good attacks from him fall just short, and noticed it had a lot to do with where his front foot was pointing.

He must have paid attention when I pointed it out, because in our last bout, he was right on target, and hitting me with wicked stop-thrusts. Then, almost before I had the chance to take it in, he was across my body with one of my own favourite cuts. That was the unquestionable decider.

I stopped and joined in the general applause, because there was no question in the mind of anyone who saw it that it was the move of the day.

Some accounts say that in his final combat, the pirate Captain Edward Teach (or Thatch) AKA Blackbeard was still fighting furiously after taking any number of sword cuts and several gunshot wounds. Eventually, a young Scot caught him in the neck with a broadsword cut. Blackbeard turned and said something like “well done lad” then fell. Joseph gave me my Blackbeard moment, and I was delighted.

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Remember the Rules (courtesy of GLECA):

Rule 1: Don’t get Hit.

Rule 2: Hit the other Guy.

Rule 3: Look Damned Good doing it.

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Next post: Using Krumphau to parry and the Mittelhau move that won the fight.

Hand Position, or Why a Lightsaber is not a Sword – Although it is Still Awesome

‘You wouldn’t hold a lightsaber like that.’

‘Or not necessarily like that,’ I say. ‘Because it doesn’t have an edge and therefore your hand position doesn’t need to…’ My voice trails off as I realise that not only is my friend Tony’s dad—comic geek extraordinaire and self-appointed expert on the Star Wars universe—staring at me but I have also attracted the attention of his two equally-expert friends.

‘Wouldn’t hold it like what?’ The biggest friend—currently holding a truly epic-awesome lightsaber replica—asks, pointing the sword in my direction in a way that would have been threatening if a) it had been turned on and b) he knew how to use it.

‘Like a sword.’ I say.

‘It is a sword, ‘says Tony’s dad. ‘An elegant weapon for a more civilised age.’

‘It might be elegant,’ I say. ‘And it is completely awesome. But it isn’t a sword. A sword has an edge and a flat and the edge is stronger than the flat (except in John Clement’s world) as well as actually cutting and that affects the way you use it. But a lightsaber can cut from any angle so it’s more like a staff or an extremely lethal stick or… I could show you,‘ I say. ‘If I could just borrow one of the lightsabers?’

Big guy pulls his lightsaber protectively to his chest (good thing it’s a replica and not turned on) but the other guy hands me his weapon and pulls out a second.

‘Okay, young Padawan,’ he says grinning. ‘Show us what you know.’

And though I intended just to show them the different hand grips—because Master Raske has been drilling us on holding the sword properly and being very scathing about what he calls ‘Oliver’s Jedi grip,’ which is where I hold it like a stick and try to cut with the flat—the other guy clearly wants to fight.

He extends his lightsaber and holds it directly in front of him in what must be the basic lightsaber guard because they all do it even though Master Raske says it’s not a real guard.

He then swings back (because he can’t hit effectively from that position which is one of the reasons it’s not a real guard) and goes to hit me.

I step sideways and cut his arm off. And I’m about to push his lightsaber down (because I against a one handed opponent I would have the advantage in the bind) and chop his head off when he wants to start again.

He swings back in a movement that’s almost identical—I guess like Anakin he’s a slow learner—and goes to hit me on the other side.

I cut his other arm off.

Then his head.

Darth Sugarloaf Strikes Again

Then we start again and this time he doesn’t bother with a guard but just comes in with a oberhau and we meet in the bind and because he’s twisted his wrist (instead of making a straight line as Master Raske says we must do or we’ll be both unnecessarily weak and/or risk breaking our wrist) it’s easy to push his lightsaber down a little and stab him in the chest.

And by this time Tony’s laughing and my other friend Jason is crowing and Tony’s Dad and Mr Big Guy are looking angry and I think it may not go well for me, even though I do think lightsabers are awesome and Master Raske says that in the right hands they would be unbeatable. But fortunately the guy I am fighting is a good sport about it and even says he might check out the longsword training.

Oh, and Jason distracts everyone else by asking the old question of why they didn’t just turn the lightsaber off in the middle of the fight and reactivate it next to their opponents head. And in the general groans, eye rolls and explanations, I am temporarily off the hook.

Though I continue to think that no matter how awesome a lightsaber is, it isn’t a sword.

BTW the answer to Jason’s question is

1. As Jedi (and Sith) have predictive power the ‘surprise’ of turning the lightsaber off wouldn’t be much of a surprise and they’d probably use your temporary defencelessness to kill you.

2. Lightsabers do not necessarily turn on that fast and the middle of a fight is not the best time for a tech malfunction.

3. There is a technique that uses this ability called Trakata but it isn’t canonical.

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How to hold a Sword

Ok, so if you’re using a real sword you need to pay attention to the orientation of the edge and the alignment of your wrists. The Basic rule here is not to “break” your wrists. Not actually breaking bones of course (although if you deliver a blow with a ‘broken’ wrist you could strain your tendons) but not having them out out of alignment with your forearm and the sword.

Broken wrist to the inside

Broken wrist to the outside

Wrist unbroken

This last one here is correct. There should be a straight line that runs down your forearm, through your wrist and down the line of the sword. This allows your sword to transmit energy using the structure of your bones. If it’s broken, your strike will be weaker, and it’s going to hurt your wrists. Even worse, a broken structure means your sword will be weak in the bind, and your opponent will be able to move it around easily and strike you. You’ll spend a lot of time over-compensating for weak structure.

We can see another picture of a strong structure below, which could exert or receive pressure through the blade.

A strong line.

So how should you grip the sword? That’s quite a big question. First, hold it firmly but relaxed. Don’t tense up or “choke the sword like you see in the first picture below. The second picture shows a more relaxed grip, with the handle of the sword cradled into the heel of your palm. It’s also an example of the Close grip – with hands close to each other on the handle.

Choking the sword

Close grip.

Regular grip

Pommel Grip

Reverse grip

As you can see, there are lots of ways to hold the sword. Which one you choose depends on personal preference and the techniques you’re using. The close grip allows the pommel to swing freely, which allows for strong strikes, but the pommel grip allows you to leverage the sword and pull it back from a bind sharply. You’ll need to use it if you’re doing techniques like the Zwerchau. The regular grip is a compromise between the two. And Master Raske says you even find the Reverse Grip in the historic fechtbucher (fencing books), as it allows for a remarkably strong bind, but that it’s probably not a very wise place for a novice to start.

In any case, your hands shouldn’t be staying static, but should be shifting grip as you use the sword – first pushing then pulling the pommel, sliding up and down, dependant on which plane you’re moving the sword in.

Thumb grip

So this is the thumb grip – with the thumb over the crossguard and placed on the flat of the blade. You never use this one with a lightsaber but you do need to use it on a sword for some of the guards and some of the master strikes (if you look back at the Krumphau, you’ll see it being used there). It’s pretty cool, as it helps us make strikes with both edges of the sword.

The Guards and Hand position

So now you know the basic guards, we can make sure that your grip is right in each of them.

Vom Tag

Ready to leverage the pommel, while still dropping the sword downwards.
Alber

See the line of the hands?

Pflug

Left Pflug

Right Pflug

Left Pflug uses the thumb grip, while Right Pflug does not. Notice the left hand coming almost off the pommel in right Pflug.

 Ochs

Left Ochs

Left Ochs isn’t too hard. You can see the left hand coming almost onto the bottom of the handle, ready to push the point forward.

Right Ochs

Without the right hand

Another angle

From your perspective

But Right Ochs is damned tricky, because of the crossed position of the hands. You need to reach through under your dominant hand with the hand on the pommel. You can see this pretty clearly in the second picture – held without the right hand. This can actually be a good way of forming the guard properly. In right Ochs, the hand on the pommel is doing most of the work – the forward hand is just guiding the point to its target.

So that’s about all for this week, but Master Raske says it’s about time you got some drills to practise on your own. Here he is demonstrating a few of them.

1. Transitioning from Pflug to Pflug (with and without the thumb grip).
2. Transitioning from Ochs to Ochs (much trickier, but it’s fun to do).
3. The Cone of Death – Moving in an arc through Ochs – Pflug – Pflug -Ochs, keeping the point on line.
4. A simple Guard drill

Happy practising!

Slaying Dragons, or, The Vow of the Trainee Squires of the Knights of Saint George

Master Raske is NOT pleased.  ‘I have been teaching you German Longsword,’ he tells me. ‘So you can rediscover the lost art of European martial arts. I have NOT been teaching you longsword so you can act like a vigilante and perform random acts of violence with Jack Donaldson’s baseball bat.’ (See my last post).

‘They weren’t random,’ I tell him. ‘I thought about it very carefully. Because Jack Donaldson is bigger and stronger and certainly tougher than me and thinking about it was the only advantage I had.’

Master Raske takes a deep breath. ‘You thought about it.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you still did it.’

‘Yes.’

He takes another breath. ‘Why?’

Krumphau and Why It Really Isn’t the Right Blow to Use With A Baseball Bat

A knight will always defend the weak regardless of the cost to himself.

This is the essence of chivalry.

                                                  -Master Raske

But maybe he shouldn’t use a krumphau.

You see, I was trying to do the right thing.  And what’s the point of learning the coolest martial art in the world—aka German Longsword—if you don’t also learn how to behave with chivalry. So when Jack slams Caleb against a tree and starts swinging a baseball bat towards his terrified face I feel I have no choice but to interfere.

‘Hey, Jack.’ I say – hoping I don’t sound as scared as I feel.

‘What?’ Jack turns round and Caleb scrambles to his feet.

‘You shouldn’t do that.’ I add.

Yeah?’  The bat’s swinging slowly in front of my gut.  ‘Says who?’

A fight between us Squires and Master Raske. Much more chivalrous than this one.

‘Says me.’

‘Oh yeah?’ The rhythm of the bat increases and I wait for my fear to catch up. ‘An you’re going to stop me?’

‘Well yes.’ Instead of rising my fear seems to have vanished. And I realise that I’ve spent hours dodging swords—for my upcoming squires test—and that Master Raske says I have excellent measure (which is knowing your range). And that the weapon in Jack’s hands is six inches shorter than the one’s I’m used to and only made of wood not steel. ‘I am.’

‘You?’ He gives me a contemptuous once over. ‘You couldn’t stop a baby,’ he says, laughing.  ‘I could take you with one hand tied behind my back.’

I’ve got no problems with a handicap.

‘Now get out of my way.’

‘No.’

‘I said, get out of my f-ing way.’ Caleb has moved behind me instead of running off, which is a pity because if he had scarpered Jack might have calmed down rather than starting to swing his bat again. ‘And let me get that bastards who messed with my sister.’

‘Look he didn’t mess with Dianne and—‘

Which is as far as I get before he swings the bat towards my head and the time for conversation—even stupid conversation like ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘oh yeah’—is now over.

Then he swings the bat once, twice, three times and Caleb gasps and then runs (too late unfortunately) and I let my last year of training take over.

Mittlehau (middle strike), I think, range out by at least three inches so no need to triangle back before moving forward. He’ll be finishing his strike so I can catch him in the after (which does work as well as my fencing master said it would). Now I’ve got my arms around his elbows and my hands on the bat and holy shit, even off balance he’s stronger than me. But then I remember the noble sheep grip and is he wearing a belt? Yes he is and I just need to grab the belt and twist my hip and—

Jack’s on the ground and I’ve got his baseball bat in my right hand.

What I felt like at this point. But the girl is a lot prettier than Caleb. And probably much smarter.

‘Don’t get up.’ I do an unterhau (understrike) up past his head; deliberately missing his shocked face by at least six inches (because anything less would be dangerous and anything more wouldn’t be threatening).

‘What the f—‘

Another unterhau has Jack shifting backwards.

Vom Tag. Definately the best option for a weapon without a point.

‘—are you doing with that thing?’

‘Kunst des Fechtens,’ I say, moving the bat back into vom tag (as it seems the best guard for a weapon lacking a point). ‘Which is the art of the long sword.’

‘You’re crazy.’

 ‘Maybe.’  Considering I’m holding you of with nothing but a lump of wood we could make that a probably.

‘F—ing crazy,’ he repeats and I can hear real fear in his voice. Like he’s scared I have gone nuts and am about to do a number on his face. And though I’m not planning to do anything more than make him back off—because no matter what everyone seems to think I’m not a very violent person—there’s a moment when it feels good to be the one with the power.

‘Get out,’ I say.

‘Yeah man, I’m going,’ he puts a hand out towards me. ‘Just give me my bat back and …Holy f—’

The last expletive is when I bring the wood across his arm. I know Master Raske says we should never use our training aggressively and I do agree. But I also don’t think I should give Jack his weapon back.

‘I’m keeping the bat.’

‘You’ve broken my bloody arm, you crazy nutter.’

‘No I haven’t.’ I’d thrown a krumphau (crooked strike) using the short edge rather than a mittelhau because it’s a more controlled strike and I didn’t want to damage him. There’s no way he could have worse than a bruise. So why is he looking so shocked?  ‘‘You should go now.’

This guy has just had his sword beaten down with a Krumphau, and is being hit in the ear. This is clearly worse than what I did to Jack, so I don’t see what Jack’s problem was.

‘I’m going, I’m going.’ He scrambles around the tree. ‘Just keep that bloody thing away from me.’

No problems. I don’t like its balance anyway. But Jack’s clutching his arm and running away as if I’m someone to be scared of and even when he bumps into Caleb (who seems to have a real gift of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and I think he should avoid travelling overseas because he’d be bound to get caught up in a terrorist attack) he just shoves him aside and keeps going.

I’m in trouble now.

And though Master Raske’s says we should never behave like vigilantes I don’t see what else I could have done.

But maybe I shouldn’t have used the Krumphau.

What do you think? I don’t know anymore.

Lesson 6: Krumphau, The Crooked Cut

That’s a picture of the Krumphau (Crooked Cut) from Talhoffer. If you get it right, it’s pretty sweet – you beat the opponent’s blade down to the ground or hit them in the hands.

Master Raske has some simple rules for striking a Krumphau. Begin striking an oberhau, and then part way through you push your pommel through underneath your arm, out to your right hand side. This causes your blade to flick out to your left, beating down your opponent’s blow.

If we look back at the picture above, the guy on the left is doing a Krumphau. You can see how his pommel sticks out towards us – just like we described above. This time he’s striking his opponent’s blade, though he could have hit him in the hands instead.

The end position of the Krumphau.

You also want to make a good jump to the side away from your opponent as you perform the strike. This helps you strike at the right angle, and you’re not safe behind your sword unless you do.

If you’re doing the Krumphau to parry someone else striking at you, you should be aiming to strike the flat of their sword with your edge. (NOT the flat-of-their-strong mind you, just the middle of their blade). I like to put my thumb on the blade as I perform it, to align my edge against their flat better.

That’s the version that I did. It isn’t exactly like you read in the treatises, but then I was improvising with a baseball bat, not a sword. I used the Krumphau action to strike Jack’s arm with the short (or back) edge. Well, where short edge would be if the bat had had an edge. It is the same as what the SCA would call a “wrap” shot.

There’s lots of controversy in HEMA about what a Krumphau is, and how you do it. We were going do a proper video, but there is a HEMA group from Europe that has already done a fantastic one. Check out the video from Bratislavský šermiarsky spolok below. Some of the first strikes they do are Krumphau.

See it works! Really well!  Master Raske says you can all get back to training it now! :p

The Fearful Learn to Fence

Christmas is awesome. Not only does it contain a welcome six week break from school—because even nerds have better things to do than learn about algebra and Australian history—and the possibility of scoring enough money from grandparents to finally buy a sword but it also has the Christmas tourney.

And I’m going to do okay (provided I can get out of the police station in time to practise). Maybe better than okay because I’ve been working at this all year and not only has my technique improved but—more importantly—so has my courage.

You need courage to fight. Even when you know there are rules and you’ve got a fencing mask on—which I want to paint so it looks like Ironman but Master Raske says not till I buy my own—and gauntlets and a gambeson and a box—which I am not painting to look like Superman no matter what my friend Jason says and anyway I told him you wear it under your clothes—and you’re pretty well protected.  But longswords are fast and they hit hard and even if HEMA does have a better safety record than football Sam cracked Malcolm’s rib last month (which Master Raske was not pleased about) and swords are not designed to be safe.

I am designed to be safe.

Or, at least, I used to be.

So my first tourney went something like this.

I, Oliver, lift my sword into Ochs and prepare to use the cool technique I found in one of Master Raske’s books.

My best friend, Eliot (who is five inches shorter than me and should be easy to beat) brings her sword into Vom Tag and we wait for the call of …

“Fence.”

Bam, bang, pow and I feel like an extra in a marvel comic as blows explode around me. The cool technique goes out of mind as I swing my sword wildly and Eliot gets a clear shot to my mask.

The next time she gets me across the gut.

The third time I retreat so fast I fall over the ropes and she gets me on both my head and my gut—which considering I’ve just lost a point for  going into the ropes would seem unnecessary—before the cry of ‘Hold.’

And my misery doesn’t end there because it’s a timed bout of 2 minutes and we’ve only used up 26 seconds, which leaves another 94 seconds for me to backpedal around the arena like a robot stuck in reverse. And instead of the glorious conflict I’d been imagining—because these are swords not normal sport and you learn about them from books and surely that makes them a geek thing—there’s just me, Oliver, falling over my own feet. Completely failing to fight, think or, in one memorable exchange, even keep my eyes open.

And while I don’t mind losing at football, or cricket, or basketball or just about any sport to be honest I do mind losing at swords. Because I was getting the hang of reading the texts and Master Raske had praised my form last week and I’d really thought I’d discovered something I could do.

“If you are fearful, do not learn to fence”

But clearly I was wrong.

‘I can’t do this,’ I tell Eliot. ‘I’m a loser.’

‘No you’re not,’ she answers with commendable loyalty but a fine disregard for the facts.

‘I just lost,’ I point out.

‘Yeah, but anyone can lose,’ she says. ‘That’s what Master Raske says. He says it’s not whether you lose or not it’s how you fight that matters.’

I think about how I just failed to fight. ‘Then I’m stuffed,’ I say.

‘Not necessarily,’ Master Raske’s voice joins Eliot’s. ‘Only if you give up, now.’

‘But I can’t do it. I’m hopeless and I just run away.’ I pull out the book he leant me and open it to the beginning. ‘And it says here, if you get scared you can’t fence.’

‘Ah, but that’s just one source and it says here,’ he flips the pages over to an article on Saviolo. ‘That courage can be learned.’

‘Seriously?’ I tilt my head to look at what’s written down. ‘I’m not stuck with being a loser?’

‘Seriously, Oliver.’  He leans down and gives me a hand up. ‘No one is stuck being a loser.’

Lesson 5: Be not afraid …

“Confronted with bravery and power, every opponent will hesitate.” – Doebringer

So it turns out I’m not the only person that has had troubles running away. And apparently the Masters don’t agree about courage. Some say if you’re fearful, give up now. Don’t even bother to try. But Master Raske read me this quote …

“Many that being fearful by nature,
through daily practise have become courageous.”
– Vincentio Saviolo

Well, that’s a lot more encouraging! Master Raske says that it proves that even though the Kunst des Fechtens is awesome the German masters didn’t know everything. And that I could change the way I responded to a fight. To not be a loser.

It turns out that Courage isn’t just something you have, or you don’t have. It’s a skill that can be trained. I’d never thought of it like that. I just thought people were just brave or they weren’t. Fiore (the Italian master) called it audatia. That’s audacity, or boldness. And you can train it every time you pick up a sword. Every time you hit a pell. Every time you do a drill.

Drilling can be good place to practise courage. Getting whacked over and over, while your partner perfects their technique, can be pretty hard. But every little thing you learn to do better helps. Stepping up and attacking, without hesitation, being decisive – that’s courage too – and if you’ve done it once then you can do it again. And it makes the next step easier to take.

Just keep taking the next step. That’s all you need to do, and that’s all it takes. So this year, I reckon I can make it.

So that’s proof that you can learn courage. I only win one of these fights but I don’t run away in any of them. By my book that’s definitely a victory

Swords, sword, swords …

‘What I want to know is how a fella who couldn’t even keep his blinking pants on found the guts to stand up to our boy Jack.’

So, this is where I finally get round to telling you how I went from a loser who couldn’t even keep his blinking pants on (see My Life as a Loser) to a cool-headed HEMA hero who used his mad wrestling skills (The Noble Sheep Grip) to disarm a bully with a baseball bat. And it started here. With my first HEMA lesson.

Which I was not at all confident about.

Oberhau, Unterhau, and My Previous Life as a Loser

No one is going to get my pants off me again. I mean trousers, not underpants, but they’re not getting them either. So back off.

Oberhau, Unterhau, Mittlehau, Zornhau, Krumphau …

I’m going  through the sword cuts in my head because it’s better than thinking of my future—locked up by the police or at least permanently grounded by Mum—and it’s way better than thinking of my past. Because even if being a knight is about to get me into a whole lot of trouble it’s still better than being a loser.

Especially a loser with no pants.

Because a year ago I wasn’t Oliver the knight who knew all about German Longsword  and oberhau and how to swing a sword (more on that at the end of the  post) I was Oliver the dork who’d come out of the change rooms to find his trouser legs dangling from the swimming pool roof.

Vom Tag, or Why You Should Never Try to Explain German Longsword to the Police

So it’s the last week before Christmas and I’m supposed to be practising for the end of year fencing tourney but instead I’m sitting in the Police Station.

How The Noble Sheep Grip Saved Me From Almost Certain Doom

Yes, sir I am the same Oliver Fitzgerald who had to have his trousers retrieved from the roof of the swimming pool.
Twice.

When someone swings a baseball bat at your head most people scream, or panic, or both.  They don’t think:  ‘mittelhau’, ‘doesn’t know his range’ and ‘I wonder if the noble sheep grip would work’.

Which, fortunately, it did.  So by the time the authorities arrived I was in sole possession of the field, the baseball bat and the task of explaining that: ‘No, sir it wasn’t mine and yes, sir I am the same Oliver Fitzgerald who had to have his trousers retrieved from the roof of the swimming pool.

Twice.

Jack Donaldson was a lot bigger than this dragon. And a lot less cute.

But that was last year, sir, and no, sir, I am not winding you up or taking the piss or pulling your leg (even if, this close to the Christmas season, it does play Jingle Bells) and yes, sir, I can accompany you down to the station to give a statement about how I managed to take a baseball bat off Jack Donaldson who is known as an approach-with-caution-troublemaker whereas I am more known as an approach-with-laughter-geek. But perhaps we could stop by my place on the way so I could pick up my second ventilator and leave a note for my mother and yes, sir I am sixteen years old but she worries and…’

            I’ll bet you the first Saint George never had these problems.