Pity Me!

Or: The Downside to Marrying an English Teacher.  Which would be random speaking in iambic pentameter.  Doesn't sound too bad until you consider iambic pentameter before breakfast.

Confession time: I have what could be delicately described as an impaired sense of rhythm.  I don't dance, I have a hard time with music, and I seldom attempt poetry. I can manage limericks, but I have a really hard time with iambs, dactyls (except pterodactyls), metrical foots (should be meters, dude), and other alien life forms.

So, iambic pentameter before breakfast is hard on me.   The Emperor, OTH, can just speak Shakespearean,
the worst of which was the example, "I ate the head of Megatron, indeed!"