``A reading from the Book of Armaments, Chapter 4, Verses 16 to 20: Then did he raise on high the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, saying, "Bless this, O Lord, that with it thou mayst blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy." And the people did rejoice and did feast upon the lambs and toads and tree-sloths and fruit-bats and orangutans and breakfast cereals ... Now did the Lord say, "First thou pullest the Holy Pin. Then thou must count to three. Three shall be the number of the counting and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither shalt thou count two, excepting that thou then proceedeth to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the number of the counting, be reached, then lobbest thou the Holy Hand Grenade in the direction of thine foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it." ''
#1: Where'd you get the coconuts?
A : We found them.
S #1: Found them? In Mercia? The coconut's tropical!
A : What do you mean?
S #1: Well, this is a temperate zone.
A : 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?
S #1: Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?
A : Not at all. They could be carried.
S #1: What? A swallow carrying a coconut?
A: It could grip it by the husk!
S #1: 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.
A: Well, it doesn't matter. Will you go and tell your master that Arthur from the Court of Camelot is here.
S #1: Listen. In order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty-three times every second, right?
A: Please!
S #1: Am I right?
A: I'm not interested!
S #2: It could be carried by an African swallow!
S #1: Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow. That's my point.
S #2: Oh, yeah, I agree with that.
A: Will you ask your master if he wants to join my court at Camelot?!
S #1: But then of course a-- African swallows are non-migratory.
S #2: Oh, yeah...
S #1: So they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway...
WOMAN: Well, how did you become king then?
ARTHUR: The Lady of the Lake,... [angels sing] ...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. [singing stops] That is why I am your king!
DENNIS: Listen, 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.
ARTHUR: Be quiet!
DENNIS: Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!
ARTHUR: Shut up, will you. Shut up!
DENNIS: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
ARTHUR: Shut up!
DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help! I'm being repressed!
ARTHUR: Bloody peasant!
DENNIS: Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?
ARTHUR: Yes, of course! The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch! 'Tis one of the sacred relics Brother Maynard carries with him! Brother Maynard! Bring up the Holy Hand Grenade!
MONKS: [chanting] Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem.
ARTHUR: How does it, um-- how does it work?
LAUNCELOT: I know not, my liege.
ARTHUR: Consult the Book of Armaments!
BROTHER MAYNARD: Armaments, Chapter Two, verses Nine to Twenty-one.
SECOND BROTHER: And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying,'O Lord, bless this thy hand grenade that with it thou mayest blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy.' And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and large chu--
MAYNARD: Skip a bit, Brother.
SECOND BROTHER: And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then, shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it.'
MAYNARD: Amen.
ARTHUR: If you will not show us the Grail, we shall take your castle by force!
FRENCH GUARD: You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets. Thpppppt! Thppt!Thppt!
GALAHAD: What a strange person.
ARTHUR: Now look here, my good man--
FRENCH GUARD: I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!
GALAHAD: Is there someone else up there we could talk to?
FRENCH GUARD: No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time-a!
FRENCH  GUARD #1: I didn't know we were French?
FRENCH GUARD #2: Of course, we else do you think we are talking in this ridiculous accent?
FRENCH GUARD: How you English say, 'I one more time, mac, unclog my nose in your direction', sons of a window-dresser! So, you think you could out-clever us French folk with your silly knees-bent running about advancing behavior?! I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey-bottom biters.
ARTHUR: In the name of the Lord, we demand entrance to this sacred castle!
FRENCH GUARD: 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 people's bottoms!
Minstrel (singing): Brave Sir Robin ran away, bravely ran away away. When danger reared his ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled. Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about, he turned his tail, he chickened out. Bravely taking to his feet,beat a very brave retreat. A brave retreat by Sir Robin.

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.
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