Well, Mercia’s a temperate zone! …Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate? You don’t vote for kings. Bloody Peasant! No, no, no! Yes, yes. A bit. But she’s got a wart.

But you are dressed as one… Why do you think that she is a witch? Camelot! I’m not a witch. You don’t vote for kings. Where’d you get the coconuts?

What do you mean? And the hat. She’s a witch! And the hat. She’s a witch! Camelot! Shut up! Bring her forward!

And this isn’t my nose. This is a false one. We shall say ‘Ni’ again to you, if you do not appease us. The nose? Well, we did do the nose. Why do you think that she is a witch? You can’t expect to wield supreme power just ’cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!

Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I’m being repressed! What a strange person. Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Well, we did do the nose. But you are dressed as one… 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.

Where’d you get the coconuts? You can’t expect to wield supreme power just ’cause some watery tart threw a sword at you! …Are you suggesting that coconuts migrate? 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.

Bloody Peasant! Well, Mercia’s a temperate zone! A newt? Why? Well, she turned me into a newt. You can’t expect to wield supreme power just ’cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!