You know, I'm coming to realise that while I might be a touch... odd... compared to the average person, I'm obviously possessed of more brains than at least ten residents of Camelot put together.
First, Arthur believes that I knocked him out with a lump of wood (ha! Knocking out a lump of wood with a lump of wood! My wit knows no bounds!), and then Uther swallows the utter drivel that is Prince Pratty's hunting excuse for missing some important knight thingy.
And then had the cheek to ask if I was mentally unstable?
Clearly they all need help.