My days of being a knight in shiny armour have been curtailed and nowadays I’m more your knight in rusty armour.
Once I could scale tall towers and rescue damsels in distress but nowadays the arthritis stops me short where tall towers are concerned. Ground level rescues are my limit I’m afraid.
As for acts of valour against dragons or any assorted villainy well let’s say the squeaking armour gives me away far more than it used to.
As it is, there is a certain prestige in being rescued by a dashing knight in shiny armour, it’s the sort of thing that makes the social pages but a rescue from a knight in rusty armour is one you wish hadn’t happened and there is an argument for staying in distress.
Added to all that is the ignominy of being old and wrinkly, your strength begins to fade and carrying anything anywhere is not a pleasant sight.
So I have decided to retire, hang up my trusty sword, put my faithful old steed, Valiant, out to pasture and move into the home for Rusty Knights where WD40 is always on hand.