Dearest King: 

I firstly must gift onto ye thy due kudos on the recent creation of the concept of “last names,” to further the end of our national census. Never before hast thy kingdom shone with so much clarity as now where upon thy mere request the whole of England hast organized around your beck and call to give unto each of its denizens a new 2nd name to further identify them. Seriously, thumbs up on that. 

It is my understanding that the surnames were to be apprais’d and chosen with the tact and prudence of a knight’s quest— after all, these were anon to be the identifying marks of generations yet come, such that we may see from Heaven our progeny identified by our very own family name. 

You can imagine my dismay upon hearing that my surname (which, once again, is to follow my progeny theoretically to the end of time and to the gates of Heav’n) was  chosen to be “Smalballs” by my local council of Hershterfordshirevillians.  Yes I’m sure that it was a great and good laugh, but I am supplicating thy sense of charity that it may be changed immediately. I dost not have small balls.

My neighbor Ector’s new surname is Smith, because he is a blacksmith. The cousin of my wife’s surname is Swift, indicating the speedy nature of their family!  Perhaps my new surname could be something akin to this. Many in and about town say that I am very handsome; Perhaps an apt surname could be “Handsome” or “Strong.” In fact, “Arthur Strong” very much pleases my ear come to ponder it. Come to ponder it further, honestly, I would even consider “Mediumballs” to be a favorable upgrade to my current surname. It brings me great pain to have to dishonor your attention with such indiscretionary facts, but, I must again call to attention the fact that I dost not have small balls. 

` Between ye and me, O King of laudable merit… I am pretty sure that we owe this ignoble choice to one of the councilmen— a knave of unholy countenance— and his utterly obsessive belief that I purposefully sold the greatest of his daughters for a bushel worth of grain. I am sure that in thy most pensive of mind you will join me in agreement that things of this nature happen by God’s intelligent design, and that it was the will of none but Christ himself that would make such a transaction. 

So if it pleaseth thy court, grant my deepest wish and do not make me legally named “Arthur Smalballs”— if it pleaseth thy court. Please. 

Thy royal servant in life and death (Probably. Depending on how things go), 

Arthur Smalballs [sic]