Well, how’d you become king, then? Well, we did do the nose. Shh! Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride to Camelot! It’s only a model.
Sir Lancelot
Bring her forward! The nose? Burn her! 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.
- And this isn’t my nose. This is a false one.
- What do you mean?
- Well, how’d you become king, then?
- Shut up!
I’m not dead!
I have to push the pram a lot. But you are dressed as one… I have to push the pram a lot. On second thoughts, let’s not go there. It is a silly place. 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!
I’m not dead!
Well, how’d you become king, then? I dunno. Must be a king. Well, I didn’t vote for you.
- Well, we did do the nose.
- Well, how’d you become king, then?
- Be quiet!
First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin
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! Well, I didn’t vote for you. 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. It’s only a model.