I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away! Did you dress her up like this?
What are you doing in England? Cider! Well, can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won't be long. What? And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged. Burn her! So he has. He's scarpered. Run away!
Then who is your lord? Cherries! Here's one. Good Sir Knight, will you come with me to Camelot and join us at the Round Table? Who's that, then? Right. Remove the supports!
And you. Oh, quick! Get the sword out. I want to cut his head off! But then of course, uh, African swallows are non-migratory. Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow. That's my point. He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! In that case, I shall have to kill you. Shut up!
How do you do, good lady? I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Who's castle is that? He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways, Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin! That is why I am your king! Did you dress her up like this? Well, we did do the nose. She turned me into a newt. You're not fooling anyone, you know. Look. Isn't there something you can do? It could be carried by an African swallow! Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you! So he has. He's scarpered.