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.
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.
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.
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.