I’ll tell you.

I make mistakes because I’m human. I’m tired, because those Small People you see running around are exhausting creatures for all their unearthly cuteness, and I never get enough sleep. I mess up your name because there is a thousand years of culture in the SCA’s period and I’m a Laurel in none of it. I forget because there are umpteen fighters in the tourney and I’m not even a big fan of heavy fighting and it all runs together after a while. I forget your titles because, to be honest, “Viscount Sir Whatsie” rolls off the tongue like gravel and no amount of clear and reasonable explanations will convince you to use a title that actually meant something in period. I screw up because in my light-headedness I thought we could do things a little differently, because after the nine godzillionth time it gets a bit repetitive. I sometimes try to be funny or try to be original because it would drive me mad if I didn’t.

Or maybe… just maybe… I’m out to get you because I want you to suffer. That could be it too — but if it were, why would I content myself with mangling your name?   You’re distracted by the tourney.  I could be pouring honey into your spare groin protector and leaving it near an anthill…