What is your name? Yeah! How do you do, good lady? I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Who's castle is that? We haven't got enough mud. Chicken! You've got two empty halves of coconut and you're bangin' 'em together. So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercia, through...
I feel fine! And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged. Burn her!
That is your purpose, Arthur: the quest for the Holy Grail. Who are the Britons? He isn't? Bring out your dead! Ooh! Anarcho-syndicalism is a way of preserving freedom. Yes, I see. Then who is your lord? Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! Quiet! I can't take him.
Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left. I'm averting my eyes, O Lord. Is there someone else up there we could talk to? Well, what are you, then?
So, why do witches burn? Bring out your dead! Nine pence. Cider!