The Black Knight appears

The Black Knight appears, silent and stern, like a discount security guard in medieval cosplay. Sir Arthur offers parley—slash!—an arm gone. “Tis but a scratch.” A second blow—another limb airborne. “I’ve had worse.” Arthur stares in disbelief as the Knight, now limbless, wriggles furiously on the forest floor, threatening vengeance with nothing but teeth and bravado. “Right! I’ll do you for that!” The battle, such as it is, ends with Arthur tiptoeing around a howling torso. “Oh, I see, running away now, are we? Yellow belly! Come back and take what’s coming to you!” A lesson in pride, futility, and the importance of tourniquets. And so ends the bravest no-armed, no-legged man in comedy—forever defending a meaningless bridge, armed only with pure, uncut denial.