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I’m not a witch. I am your king. Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I’m being repressed! Found them? In Mercia?! The coconut’s tropical! I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough water! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! Now leave before I am forced to taunt you a second time! But you are dressed as one…

The Knights Who Say Ni demand a sacrifice! I dunno. Must be a king. You don’t frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person! I blow my nose at you, so-called Ah-thoor Keeng, you and all your silly English K-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-niggits! Why?

Burn her! And this isn’t my nose. This is a false one. The swallow may fly south with the sun, and the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land. Well, she turned me into a newt. 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. That is why I am your king. You don’t vote for kings.

I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough water! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! Now leave before I am forced to taunt you a second time! How do you know she is a witch? The nose?

Well, we did do the nose. Shut up! What do you mean? Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!

Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. Burn her anyway! Bring her forward!

Bloody Peasant! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! …Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate? Found them? In Mercia?! The coconut’s tropical!

No, no, no! Yes, yes. A bit. But she’s got a wart. Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. What a strange person. What a strange person. What a strange person. Where’d you get the coconuts?

…Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate? We want a shrubbery!! Be quiet! Burn her anyway! Did you dress her up like this? Look, my liege!

No, no, no! Yes, yes. A bit. But she’s got a wart. Well, I got better. Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system! On second thoughts, let’s not go there. It is a silly place.

And the hat. She’s a witch! Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. I am your king.

Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Well, we did do the nose. I am your king. Camelot! Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system!

How do you know she is a witch? Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony. On second thoughts, let’s not go there. It is a silly place. But you are dressed as one… You don’t vote for kings.

Shut up! Will you shut up?! And the hat. She’s a witch! 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. That is why I am your king. Look, my liege!

Bring her forward! Shh! Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride to Camelot! I don’t want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough water! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! Now leave before I am forced to taunt you a second time! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!

Found them? In Mercia?! The coconut’s tropical! Well, I didn’t vote for you. What do you mean?

What do you mean? Well, what do you want? No, no, no! Yes, yes. A bit. But she’s got a wart. Burn her!

Oh, ow! Bloody Peasant! Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I’m being repressed! The swallow may fly south with the sun, and the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land.

 

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