I am responsible for the Roggenrola Stock Market Crash of '22.
I am not sorry.

Whoa there!
Halt!
Who goes there?
It is I, Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon
from the castle of Camelot.
King of the Britons!
Defeater of the Saxons!
Sovereign of all England!
- Pull the other one.
- I am.
This is my trusty servant Patsy.
We have ridden the length
and breadth of the land...
in search of knights who will join me
in my court at Camelot.
I must speak with your lord and master.
- What, ridden on a horse?
- Yes.
You're using coconuts.
- What?
- You're banging together two coconuts.
So? We have ridden since the snows
of winter covered this land.
Through the kingdom of Mercia...
- Where'd you get the coconuts?
- We found them.
In Mercia?
The coconut's tropical.
- What do you mean?
- This is a temperate zone.
The swallow may
fly south with the sun...
or the house martin or the plover
may seek warmer climes in winter...
yet these are not strangers
to our land.
Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?
Not at all.
They could be carried.
What? A swallow carrying a coconut?
It could grip it by the husk.
It's not a question
of where he grips it.
It's a simple question of weight ratios.
A five-ounce bird could not carry
a one-pound coconut.
It doesn't matter.
Tell your master that Arthur
from the court of Camelot is here.
In order to maintain
air speed velocity...
a swallow needs to beat its wings
Please!
- Am I right?
- I'm not interested.
It could be carried
by an African swallow.
An African swallow, maybe,
but not a European swallow.
- That's my point.
- I agree with that.
Will you ask your master if he wants
to join my court at Camelot?
But then, of course,
African swallows are nonmigratory.
So they couldn't bring
a coconut back anyway.
Wait a minute. Supposing two swallows
carried it together!
No, they'd have to have it on a line.
Simple. They just use
a strand of crepon.
- Held under the dorsal guiding feathers?
- Why not?
Bring out your dead!
Bring out your dead!
Ninepence.
- Here's one.
- Ninepence.
- I'm not dead!
- What?
- Nothing. Here's your ninepence.
- I'm not dead!
- Here. He says he's not dead.
- Yes, he is.
- I'm not.
- He isn't?
- He will be soon. He's ill.
- I'm getting better.
You'll be stone dead in a moment.
I can't take him like that.
It's against regulations.
- I don't want to go on the cart!
- Don't be such a baby.
- I can't take him.
- I feel fine.
- Do us a favor.
- I can't.
Can you hang around?
He won't be long.
I've got to get to Robinson's.
They've lost nine today.
- When is your next round?
- Thursday.
- I think I'll go for a walk.
- You're not fooling anyone.
- Isn't there something you can do?
- I feel happy!
- Thanks very much.
- Not at all. See you on Thursday.
- Who's that?
- I don't know. Must be a king.
- Why?
- He hasn't got ♥♥♥♥ all over him.
- Old woman!
- Man!
Man. Sorry.
What knight lives in that castle there?
- I'm 37.
- What?
I'm 37. I'm not old.
- I can't just call you "man."
- You could say "Dennis."
- I didn't know you were called Dennis.
- You didn't bother to find out.
I said "Sorry" about the old woman,
but from behind, you looked...
What I object to is that you
automatically treat me like an inferior.
- I am king.
- Oh, king. Very nice.
And how'd you get that?
By exploiting the workers.
By hanging on to
outdated imperialist dogma...
which perpetuates the economic
and social differences in our society.
- If there's ever going to be progress...
- There's lovely filth down here.
- How do you do?
- How do you do, good lady?
I'm Arthur, king of the Britons.
Whose castle is that?
- King of who?
- The Britons.
- Who are the Britons?
- We are all Britons, and I am your king.
I didn't know we had a king. I thought
we were an autonomous collective.
You're fooling yourself.
We're living in a dictatorship.
A self-perpetuating autocracy
in which the working classes...
There you go bringing class
into it again.
That's what it's all about.
Please, good people. I am in haste.
Who lives in that castle?
No one lives there.
- Then who is your lord?
- We don't have a lord.
What?
We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune.
We take turns to act as sort of
an executive officer for the week.
But all the decisions
of that officer have to be ratified...
at a special biweekly meeting...
by a simple majority
in the case of internal affairs.
- But by 2/3rd's majority...
- Be quiet!
- I order you to be quiet!
- Order? Who does he think he is?
- I am your king.
- I didn't vote for you.
- You don't vote for kings.
- How'd you become king, then?
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.
Strange women lying in ponds,
distributing swords...
is no basis for government.
Supreme executive power derives
from a mandate from the masses...
not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
Quiet!
You can't expect to wield
supreme executive power...
because some watery tart
threw a sword at you.
Shut up!
If I went around saying
I was an emperor...
just because some moistened bint lobbed
a scimitar at me, they'd put me away.
Shut up!
Will you shut up?
Now we see the violence
inherent in the system.
Shut up!
Come see the violence inherent in
the system. Help! I'm being repressed!
- Bloody peasant!
- What a giveaway! Did you hear that?
That's what I'm on about.
Did you see him repressing me?
You fight with the strength
of many men, Sir Knight.
I am Arthur, king of the Britons.
I seek the finest and bravest knights
in the land...
to join me at Camelot.
You have proved yourself worthy.
Will you join me?
You make me sad. So be it.
Come, Patsy.
- None shall pass.
- What?
None shall pass.
I have no quarrel with you,
but I must cross this bridge.
Then you shall die.
I command you, as king of the Britons,
to stand aside!
I move for no man.
So be it!
- Now stand aside, worthy adversary.
- 'Tis but a scratch.
- A scratch? Your arm's off.
- No, it isn't.
- What's that, then?
- I've had worse.
- You liar!
- Come on, you pansy!
Victory is mine.
We thank Thee, Lord,
that in Thy mercy...
- Come on.
- What?
Have at you!
You are indeed brave,
but the fight is mine.
Had enough, eh?
You stupid bastard,
you've got no arms left.
- Yes, I have.
- Look!
It's just a flesh wound.
- Stop that!
- Chicken!
I'll have your leg! Right!
- Right!
- I'll do you for that.
- You'll what?
- Come here.
- Are you going to bleed on me?
- I'm invincible!
You're loony.
The Black Knight always triumphs!
Have at you!
Come on, then.
All right, we'll call it a draw.
Come, Patsy.
I see. Running away, eh?
You yellow bastards! Come back here
and take what's coming to you!
I'll bite your legs off!
A witch! A witch!
A witch! We found a witch!
We've got a witch!
A witch! A witch!
We have found a witch.
May we burn her?
- How do you know she is a witch?
- She looks like one.
Bring her forward.
I'm not a witch!
I'm not a witch!
But you are dressed as one.
- They dressed me like this.
- No, we didn't.
And this isn't my nose.
It's a false one.
- Well?
- We did do the nose.
- The nose?
- And the hat. But she is a witch!
- Did you dress her up like this?
- No, no!
Yes. A bit.
She has got a wart.
What makes you think
she's a witch?
She turned me into a newt!
A newt?
I got better.
Burn her anyway!
Quiet! Quiet!
There are ways of telling
whether she is a witch.
- Are there? What are they? Tell us.
- Do they hurt?
Tell me, what do you do with witches?
Burn them!
And what do you burn,
apart from witches?
- More witches!
- Wood!
So why do witches burn?
- 'Cause they're made of wood?
- Good!
- How do we tell if she is made of wood?
- Build a bridge out of her.
But can you not also make bridges
out of stone?
Oh, yeah.
Does wood