[yerself]

Many moons ago during a lull in the Battle of the Roses a bored young Lancastrian sub-lieutenant decided to have a bit of fun at the expense of the Yorkies. After clearing it with his Commanding Officer he made his way to the top of a hill overlooking a Yorkist camp on the border of Lancashire and Yorkshire, somewhere near Gisburn, legend has it.
He called out to the Yorkshire sentry, " Any Lancashireman can thrash a hundred Yorkshiremen on his own with his bare hands." The Yorkshire infantryman immediately reported this to his superiors, who sent him back to arrange a convenient time and place for the confrontation. The following day at 7am the troop of Yorkists left their camp to do battle with the lone Lancastrian, just to be safe their colonel sent two hundred men; not a single one of whom returned.
The day after the Lancashireman returned to the Hill and shouted " A single unarmed Lancashireman can thrash five hundred Yorkshiremen with his bare hands." The Yorkshire commander sent a thousand just to be safe. Yet again not a single Yorkie returned.
This continued in similar way for a week or so, until the Yorkshire Colonel sent out a sizeable force of some five thousand troops. A solitary, bedraggled, dilapidated, battered and bruised Yorkshire trooper managed to make his way back to camp where he breathlessly, panting heavily and near to exhaustion managed to whisper to his senior officer " The barstewards are cheating, there's two of 'em."