Conan the Septuagenarian
Crom, I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. But Crom, I continue to crush my enemas, and still my colon is impacted worse than the worst Stygian fudgepacker. Crom, you do not care for the troubles of men, still consider my one request. My prostate feels as big as a Cimmerian apple, and my piss dribbles out like a stuttering necromancer. Crom, stop laughing your sick, fucking ass off! Grant me a SHIT and PISS like I used to have in the days of high adventure! And if you do not listen, then the HELL with you!