A/N: The prompt for this story was to a write a piece of action fiction, of less than 500 words, on any topic.

Exhausted by years of war, locked in a bloody stalemate, two nations decide on a final, desperate solution.  Each will send forth a warrior, and the two champions will do battle, with the victor's side to be declared the winner of the war.

As the two combatants approach each other,  a hush falls over the battlefield.

"Tremble in fear, puny foe.  I am Armand the Awesome, and none can stand before me!"

"Erm.  I seem to be standin' before ya, guv."

"What?"

"You said none can stand before ya, right?"

"Indeed!"

"Well, I'm before ya.  And I ain't sittin'."

"Do not mince words with me, wretched oaf.  My meaning was that none can withstand me!"

"Dunno about wifstand, guv.  But I can't stand ya, that's fer certain.  Yer a right tosser."

"You dare insult me?"

"See any other tossers about?"

"Beware, vile creature.  You raise my ire."

"Raise yer 'igher?  'Igher than what?"

"Ire means anger, you insolent cretin!"

"Oh, right.  Cripes, ain't you the walkin' bloody thesaurus?  Well matey, given yer wanna kill me anyways, can't say I'm too worried about cheesin' ya off.  Ya big wanker."

"Impertinent peasant!  Enough with this prattle!  Draw your sword, and prepare to die."

"But I ain't got a sword, me old China."

"What?"

"Blimey, are ya deaf or blind, or a bitta both?  Can ya see a sword?  Reckon I got it shoved up me tailpipe?  I - ain't - got - a - SWORD!  Comprendo?"

"Very well, then draw your mace, or your staff.  Make haste, for my blade longs to slake its thirst with your lifeblood."

"I ain't got none of those fings neither, guv."

"You try my patience sorely, craven wretch.  What do you have?"

"Well, I got this new hat.  Well, not exactly new, but good as.  Only one previous owner.  Although I s'pose the poor dead sod I pinched it off mighta pinched it off some other sod.  And he mighta been more asleep than dead.  Dunno.  Nice, innit?"

"WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO FIGHT WITH, YOU STINKING PILE OF REFUSE?"

"Oh, right.  Wouldn't you like to know?"

"YES!  THAT'S WHY I ASKED, YOU DOLT!"

"Righto, righto.  No need to shout.  Let me just get it out of me pocket.  Half a mo, I'll have it in sec.  Let's see.  Hankie, keys, shopping list - hmm, don't tell me I left the bloody thing at home.  Ah, here it is.  There ya go, guv.  Whaddya reckon about that?"

"But...that's a rock."

"That's right.  No flies on ya, sharp as a cannon ball, ain't ya?  But it ain't just a rock.  It's my rock."

"But you can't fight me with a—oof!"

"What's that, guv?  Oh dear, you appear to be out cold, on account of coppin' a rock to the head.  Well, now that's sorted, I'm off down the pub.  Me gob longs to slake it's first wiv a pint."

And with the war resolved, there was much rejoicing.  And pints all around.