Sigh.

Throughout history we have Armour. Silly suits that MEN supposedly wore when they went to battle.

To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer. The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. And by opposing end them.

Urm. OK. If you’ve done ANY research on the Battle of Agincourt and the capture of Charles d’Orleans and his brother by Henry V – y’all’ll’ve seen the MS History BS about how Agincourt, that day, was everso conveniently flooded with MUD.

And the Silly French with their armour fell off their horses under the slings and arrows of the Welsh Longbow Men.

They fell off their highly prized destriers, struggled and half drowned in the mud, like upturned turtles, and the English went LOL….gotcha silly Frenchies ?

Once more unto the breach vibe?

But, if you look a little deeper (?) “armour” is what we hoomans put on when we don’t want to be HURT. It protects us.

Armour of God….mmmmmmn. I have not and never will use that phrase :o(

A man wearing armour – especially pristine, undented, unblemished armour, is a man who refuses to LOVE.

Just saying :o)