I've run across Geoffrey Chaucer's blog before, but never has it seemed quite so perfect.

I – THE REAUME IS IN GRETE PERIL FROM OURE GRETE ENEMYE FRAUNCE, IN GRETER PERIL THAN EVIR BIFOR

A. Frensshe flete has gadrid for to make invasion in ower lande

B. Frensshe shal turne alle of our filmes in to non-linear meditaciouns on lyf and deeth both insouciant and melancholie

C. Frensshe shal destroyen the Englisshe language and create a world maad only of voweles

D. Frensshe shal covir Engelonde wyth cafes wher yt costeth more to drinke coffee sittinge doun than standing up

E. If alle else faileth, repete “grete peril, grete peril” lyk vnto a psalme