Protected by all manner of voodoo and sophisticated brain-washing techniques, I finally escaped from her by shagging a cutie ten years her junior, who looked great in a miniskirt.

It’s never failed me…

As for what to do with the beast, being a Lord of the British Empire, I think that you have no choice but to challenge the beast to a duel – ’tis the gentlemanly thing to do and only proper. As for what you choose to duel with … now then that might make for an interesting adventure!

God speed and dispatch this beastie in a manner only you are capable of!

There is no doubt in my mind that you have in front of you a very poor specimen to whom you should extend the therapeutic power of your intellect forthwith.

Doubtless this monster is in need of counselling and sympathy brought about by too much roaring and slavering in the woods.

A gentle word and some liberal education will cure all for this poor individual who is probably the product of aristocratic ancestral inbreeding.

random chick, I forgive you for your disgraceful absence, just be sure to not let it happen again, or heaven help me I shall have to spank you six ways to Sunday!

sogeshirtsguy, well, daring is my middle name. Not literally, of course. That would be utter madness.

Lord Andrew, and how did you escape your bestial ex-wife? Was it a kick to the balls, I wonder?

Lady Terri, I like the way your evil mind works, m’dear. Kick a beast while he’s down! HUZZAH!

Olga, dueling with my proud Palmerston would be an entirely unfair match, heavily weighted in my favour (emphasis on the ‘heavily weighted’). I like it!

ettarose, there really is nothing like kicking a ferocious creature in the nut-sack to win the affections of a lady, is there?

becauseican, you are probably right. That beast was certainly packing a beast of his very own, and it would probably take four of five men to successfully pull it off. So to speak.

Mr. Bananas, you are quite correct, sir. Manners cost nothing, after all. Pummeling his plums might make the beast more considerate in the future.

my beautiful skidoo, Botter’s hair is as yellow as the cowardly streak that runs through him.

nitehawk, a pair of Botter’s under-garments? Now that really is below the belt. Ah-hah!

Toodle-pip, friends!

- Lord Likely.

I would imagine that the beast would prefer fangs and claws as preferred weapons. I would advise you, sir, to keep by your person a pair of Botter’s soiled undergarments and a bottle of Irn Bru.