I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week,... I fart in your general direction! You'll what? Tell me. What do you do with witches? Ah, thanks very much. And you. Oh, quick! Get the sword out. I want to cut his head off! Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?

Ah, but can you not also make bridges out of stone? 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. Uh, gra-- gravy! I'm invincible! What? What?