That is your purpose, Arthur: the quest for the Holy Grail. And gallantly, he chickened out. No. No. Halt! Who goes there?

Who art thou? Look, stop that. Right! Yeah! Yeah! Look! Aaaagh! What is your name?

So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercia, through... Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. Well, it doesn't matter. Will you go and tell your master that Arthur from the Court of Camelot is here? Burn her anyway! My liege! I would be honored. The Britons. Please! He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp. Yes.

He buggered off. Not at all. They could be carried. Who are the Britons? What are you going to do, bleed on me? What makes you think she is a witch?

'Course it's a good idea! Behold! Throw her into the pond! What, held under the dorsal guiding feathers? Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left. Oh, yeah. True. Uhh... What do you mean? What? A swallow carrying a coconut?