He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed into a pulp, Or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken. To have his kneecaps split, and his body burned away, And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin! What is your quest? Hector. Quick! Packing it in and packing it up And sneaking away and buggering up And chickening out and pissing about Yes, bravely he is throwing in the sponge What? O, Knights of Nee, we have brought you your shrubbery. May we go now? You're lucky. You're not next to him. Ha-ha! etc. The Black Knight always triumphs! Have at you! Come on then. [whop] [ARTHUR chops the BLACK KNIGHT's other leg off]