Stand aside, thou knave!

“Stand aside, thou knave!” cries Arthur. But the Black Knight speaks only one phrase: “None shall pass.” A clash of steel, a heroic blow—schlick! “You’ve no arms left!” “Yes I have.” “Look!” “Just a flesh wound.” The duel continues despite anatomical setbacks. “I’ve had worse,” he growls, blood gushing like a Monty Python fountain. One leg gone, then another. Now a torso, squirming in the dirt, still hurling insults. “Come on, then! I’ll bite your legs off!” A lesson in persistence, delusion, and British comedy at its finest. And so Sir Arthur crosses the bridge, victorious, while the Black Knight yells after him: “Coward! Come back and take what’s coming to you!” Somewhere, a narrator mutters, “And there we leave him—an inspiration to stubborn lunatics everywhere.”