“I don’t have my knife,” I mumble. “Don’t start that,” Anna says. She walks away from me sharply. “Arthur without Excalibur was still Arthur.”

“Arthur without Excalibur was still Arthur.”

“You should go then.” Don’t go. Don’t bloody leave me. Throw your arms around me. I don’t care if you smear my face with paint, Anna. Tell me you love me. Show me you still want me. Torture me at bit more.Oh, God...she was walking away from me.”

“I should begin at the beginning. I know that. But the trouble is that I don’t know the beginning. I wish I did. I do know my name, Arthur Hobhouse. Arthur Hobhouse had a beginning, that’s for certain. I had a father and a mother too, but God only knows who they were, and maybe even he doesn’t know for sure. I mean, God can’t be looking everywhere all at once, can he? So where the name Arthur Hobhouse comes from and who gave it to me I have no idea. I don’t even know if it’s my real name. I don’t know the date and place of my birth either, only that it was probably in Bermondsey, London, sometime in about 1940.”

“I’ll walk away from you because I have to, but I won’t walk away from my daughter. If I do, I’ll never forgive myself. So if there’s any part of you which still loves me, please don’t ask me to.”

“King Arthur: I am your king.Peasant Woman: Well, I didn't vote for you.King Arthur: You don't vote for kings.Peasant Woman: Well, how'd you become king, then?[Angelic music plays... ]King Arthur: The Lady of the Lake, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I, Arthur, was to carry Excalibur. That is why I am your king.Dennis the Peasant: Listen. Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.Arthur: Be quiet!Dennis the Peasant: You can't expect to wield supreme power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!”