The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. I'm French! Why do think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king-a?! You make me sad. So be it. Come, Patsy. He isn't? You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship: a self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes-- Are there? Apples! Fiends! I'll tear them apart! I am, and this is my trusty servant Patsy. We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of knights who will join me in my court at Camelot. I must speak with your lord and master. Victory is mine!