King: Have you been murdering your brothers again?
Prince (holding a bloody knife behind his back): Brothers? I don’t recall having any brothers.
King: Really? Because I’m pretty sure I used to have more sons.
Emperor: Hey, the troops seem to like you. Want to be my son?
General: Uh, okay… dad.
Courtier A: The king is dead!
Courtier B: Long live whatever pea-brained squirt with a willy first got squeezed out of the queen’s hoo-ha!
Just remember, it could be worse.