The legend of noble knight "Sir Cųm Sock" is a tragic and harrowing tale of loyalty, loss and revenge.

In 1485, The Battle of Bosworth was on the horizon between Lancastrian Henry Tudor, and Yorkist King Richard III.
“Sir Cųm Sock”, as he is now known, sat in a darkened room of Middleham Castle for one last cheeky wank before the battle was to commence.
As he reached climax, he ejaculated into his favourite cųm sock and let out a long, drawn out moan of satisfaction.

He stood up, still weak at the legs, quietly proud that he had managed to get off a quick load away from the prying eyes of King Richard III.
He stuffed the moist sock into his codpiece and braced himself in anticipation for the devastation and chaos of war.

As the battle drew on, many Yorkist men began to flee as “Lord Stanley”, a powerful Northern lord launched thousands of men under his command into the fray on the side of Henry.
Sir Cųm Sock however was not one to flee.
He fought bravely by Richard’s side right up until the final blow which saw Richard take his last breath.

In the midst of the slaughter, one of Lord Stanley’s men reached into Sir Cųm Socks codpiece to cop a feel. As he did so, his facial expression turned to that of confusion.

Bewildered, He held up a pink, jįzz soaked sock for his comrades to see.
Sir Cųm Sock looked up from the ground and screamed in hysteria.
He begged and pleaded with the men to spare his sock and in return they could take his life.

The men stood silently for a moment and stared blankly at one another unsure of what to do next.
After a quiet, whispered discussion between themselves, each of the men decided to take turns jerking each other off into the sock, mocking Sir Cųm Sock as the sock slowly filled up with one salty load after another.
The men then forced Sir Cųm Sock to watch as they set the sock alight and laughed as it disintegrated into nothing but ashes.

Sir Cųm Sock who was now blinded from the endless stream of tears pouring down his face had nothing left to live for.
He made one final plea with the enemy to end his life.
The men just stared down at him, meeting his gaze before calmly turning around and walking away.

With his final ounce of energy, Sir Cųm Sock rose to his knees and plunged his blood-soaked long sword into his abdomen, disemboweling himself and dying an honorable death.

It is said that the spirit of Sir Cųm Sock now roams Leicestershire, England in search of a new cųm sock to love, desecrate and call his own…