funny quotes compilation
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Creoda: "I am Creoda, son of Cerdic." Arthur: "Cracking. I'm Damns To Give, son of Out Of." ---
"I couldn't help but note the blade's small, unimpressive make." Arthur: "You're going to carve me with a woman's knife?" Arthur: "Surely the king's castration calls for an ax."
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Bedwyr: "You think [Gwenhwyfar is] learning anything in the convent?" Arthur: "Frankly, I've always been under the impression the queen was born knowing everything." Arthur: "Certainly acts it, she does."
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Creoda: "You have that horrible accent." Creoda: "Phlegm everywhere." Creoda: "It's disgusting." Arthur: "May I refer you to the wisdom of the bards?" Arthur: "He whose tongue sounds like gargled piss ought not cast aspersions." Arthur: "Nor spit in the wind." --- Morgan: "Good morning, executioner!" Morgan: "Did demons torment your dreams?" Arthur: "Bore da, Morgan."
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"Casting [Creoda] a hard glance over my shoulder, he declared:" Bedwyr: "I crave Sais blood, Lord." "Then, as he looked at me, his voice dropped to a whisper." Bedwyr: "Let me out, fucksakes. I've got to take a heinous piss."
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Arthur: "Creoda really is rubbing off on you in all the wrong ways." Morgan: "I don't want to be lectured by one with the manners of a dog in a mead hall." Arthur: "Step up from a wolf in a chicken pen." Morgan: "Are you certain you are a king? Because all I hear from you is jest." Arthur: "Good ones manage both."
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Cynric: "La, Creoda, what do I keep you around for, decoration?" Cynric: "You see a pair of pretty birds and your brain flies off with them."
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Morgan: "You've an entire weir to receive your business, but you choose to water my leeks!" Creoda: "Woman, my bladder does not hold witan when it is full of ale."
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Creoda: "How many times did you request Wulf and Eadwacer?" Cynric: "Enough to put the hollering to bed." Creoda: "La, Cynric, why chase the sword when you're a born peace-weaver?" Cynric: "Aw, what're you pissing and moaning for? You weren't there to hear it."
--- Servant: "The yellow-haired one sits, and partakes neither of food nor drink." Morgan: "They're all yellow-haired, Yetunde."
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Bedwyr: "Prefer if my counsel was taken into bloody consideration once in a while." Bedwyr: "[testily] Lord." Arthur: "How about this?" Arthur: "Say 'Lord' in that tone again and the Saisman's sword goes so far up your arse, you'll flap like a ffycin war banner every time you fart."
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Creoda: "Your Gewisse is atrocious." Arthur: "You should hear my Irish. Sounds like a Scotsman stuffed a fistful of acorns in his mouth."
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Iddawg: "Shouldn't you keep an eye on [Arthur]?" Creoda: "I have just one pair." Creoda: "You watch him." Iddawg: "What if he runs?" Creoda: "He won't." Iddawg: "But what if he tries?" Creoda: "Kill him." "Iddawg gave his blunted shovel a despairing glance." Iddawg: "What if he kills me?" Creoda: "So long."
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Arthur: "I thought you Saeson were great shepherds." Morgan: "No more than you wealh are fantastic cattle thieves." Arthur: "Think me an Irish king, do you?"
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Bedwyr: "They say if you press your ear to the dirt on Bedwin's grave, you can still hear his gripes waft through." Arthur: "No wonder nothing grows there. Scared the worms away, he did."
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Creoda: "Death doesn't stop the work." Creoda: "It just passes the work onto another man." Arthur: "Besides, you've such a stick up your arse, you wouldn't rest knowing we were doing it wrong." Creoda: "We burn our dead." Arthur: "Ah." Arthur: "Stick's for kindling."
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Arthur: "Beli knows I've had to sit and entertain the most insufferable kiss-arses while praying they would choke on a fish bone."
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Creoda: "Come down." Creoda: "No reason to squat in the trees."
Arthur: "Can't you leave me alone? I'm trying to take a proper dump, but all your gawking makes it hard to hatch."
Morgan: "What a mighty warrior you are when you have neither man nor horse to back your orders." Morgan: "All you can do is preen your feathers."
Arthur: "Pity when a man can't build his roost in peace, that it is." Arthur: "Alas, whatever is the constipated merlin to do?"
--- Creoda: "Morgan said she heard hens clucking."
Arthur: "Do you mind? Bedwyr and I are trying to hatch eggs."
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Arthur: "Aye, but now Lord Peplum has hurled a wine jar at Lord Brocade's head, because he's just received word that Lord Brocade's nephew made off with his fattest cattle and is sleeping off a drunken stupor in his fields." Morgan: "Sounds like my kind of party."
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Morgan: "Good evening, man-smiter." Morgan: "Did a cloud of mosquitoes feast on your succulent blood?" Arthur: "Not now." Morgan: "Keep up the attitude and your liver will burst with bile." Arthur: "I don't think I much like this Hippocrates fellow of yours." Arthur: "Or his rubbish ideas."