I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets. I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! Throw her into the pond! Be quiet! I fart in your general direction! Please! Please, good people. I am in haste. Who lives in that castle?

Who leaps out? More witches! King of the who? Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left. It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, Sovereign of all England! Look, I'll have your leg. Well, don't. It's like those miserable Psalms-- they're so depressing. Well, I didn't vote for you. And that, my liege, is how we know the earth to be banana-shaped. Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God with a sacred quest.

Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system. What? A swallow carrying a coconut? Throw her into the pond! Well, I can't just call you 'Man'. I'm getting better! Nine pence. Halt! Brave Sir Robin ran away.