Imagine the setting:
Pall Mall on a sunny summer afternoon, the people are out in their droves to enjoy the spectacle and expectant too, heroes and villains will be made today, blood will be shed, and to the victor, the spoils.
The hand of a fair maiden? A Knighthood? The pride of a nation.
The queen stands up in all her finery crowned in the most regal of attire, and the crowd hush. She drops her handkerchief, it flutters slowly groundward to a rapturous roar as the chargers wheel and gallop for each each other. Riders with armour glinting, shield and lowered lance in hand sneer at each other in anticipation through the tiny slits in their helmets.
Who will unseat their adversary, triumphant? Who will end up blushing with a very sore rear?
Johnny Rotten, the Prince of Punk, shakes his hair and sharpens the spike on his lance, the flag aflutter with a sign for genuine english butter. He glowers at the golden locks of Mariah Carey, her hair sparkling in the sunshine. Mariah let’s out a high pitched squeal and spurs My Little Pony ™ forward into a charge…
Blondie’s steed gallops forward to rapturous applause. She raises her visor, the first female knight…Kraftwerk sit atop a grand steed bedecked in red and black. Impassive in their smart black ties they brandish their shield with it’s robotic crest.
Elvis Presley bedecked in silvery armour with blue suede shoes, undisputedly the king, sits atop a huge charger with his coat of arms of seven hamburgers each topped by a rhinestone encrusted crown. Johnny Cash, the dark pretender sits on a jet black steed his black armour seems to absorb the light…
Miles Davis, the prince of Jazz lowers his lance towards Lord Reggae with distinct venom, Bob Marley lets out a puff of smoke, wheels his gallant steed and charges, dreadlocks flying in the breeze.