“I don't think you're going to pull the wool over anyone's eyes with all this macrame talk.”

“I wouldn't want to fuck you if you had a ten inch knob made of gold and your arsehole was the gate to Nirvana. I can't be friends with you because you're a gibbering twatwaffle, not because I would ever, in a million years, want to shag you. Get over yourself!”

“[Arthur to Merlin]I'm the Prince of Wales, and you're Welsh. I can do whatever I bloody well like to you.”

“Merlin, if you don't stop whining, I'm going to take Gwen's sword and beat you to death with it," said Arthur, evenly."It's plastic.""So it will take me a long time. I'm still game.”

“You know you're having a crappy morning when the best that can be said for it is that at least you're not a Smurf.”

“No' seems such a flimsy and inadequate little word to express how very little interest I have in hearing you rambling on about that particular topic.”

“Good grief," said Merlin. "You look like the bastard child of Dumbledore and David Bowie. No, sorry, Dumbledore and Ziggy Stardust.”