Villager: We have found a witch, may we burn her? Crowd: Burn her! Sir Bedevere: But how do you know she's a witch? Peasant 3: Well, she turned me into a newt! Sir Bedevere: A newt? Peasant 3: ... I got better.
You don't frighten us, English pig dogs. Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called "Arthur King," you and all your silly English K-nig-hts.
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.
And now! At Last! Another film completely different from some of the other films which aren't quite the same as this one is.
Come to me. I want to plow you like a Calgary driveway at Christmas.