French Knight: 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.

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French Knight: I unclog my nose in your direction, sons of a window dresser. So, you think you could outclever us french folks with your silly, knees-bent, running-about, advancing behavior? I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy-leather, second-hand, electric donkey bottom biters.
King Arthur: In the name of the Lord, open this door!
French Knight: No chance english bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing; you tiny brained wipers of other peoples’ bottoms.

God: What are you doing now?
Arthur: Averting our eyes, oh Lord.
God: Well, don’t. It’s just like those miserable psalms, always so depressing.

King Arthur: Now stand aside worthy adversary.
Black Knight: ‘Tis but a scratch.
King Arthur: A scratch? Your arm’s off.
Black Knight: No it isn’t.
King Arthur: Well what’s that then?
Black Knight: I’ve had worse.

King of Swamp Castle: This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Let’s not bicker and argue about who killed who.

Arthur: On second thought , let’s not go to Camelot. ‘Tis a silly place.