Episode 12 Horrible Histories

# Gorgeous Georgians Slimy Stuarts, vile Victorians

# Ferocious fights Daring knights

# Horrors that defy description Cutthroat Celts

# Vicious Vikings Punishment from ancient times

# Roman rotten, rank and ruthless

# Groovy Greeks Mean and measly Middle Ages

# Gory stories - we do that

# And your host - a talking rat

# The past is no longer a mystery

# Welcome to Horrible Histories. #

In Saxon Britain lots of men lived as monks. We had some very strict rules.

For instance, we weren't allowed to speak during meals,

so we developed our own sign language.

Brothers, brothers, I have urgent new...

The gorillas are making clay pots.

Ooh, uh, the gorillas are ringing the bells.

-The Vikings are attacking.

-Yes! Yes!

By Odin's thunder!

Ooh, are the gorillas ringing the bells?

Arrrgh!

Hello, I'm Brother Alfred and this is my new assistant, Brother Timothy.

Today we're going to teach you how to write like a monk.

Now you'll need something to write on,

so first take one cute little fluffy lamb...

BLEATING

..and cut its throat.

Remember, always ask your parents' permission

before you brutally slaughter a pet lamb.

Now you'll need a pen.

Brother Timothy, go and fetch a goose feather.

Remember, always ask the goose's permission before plucking a feather.

Next, you need to cut off the skin from the lamb

and stretch it over a wooden frame.

To make your pen, you simply trim off the feathers with a sharp knife,

square off the end, make a slit up the shaft and there, perfect.

So now you have a pen, something to write on.

Now, you just need some ink

and for that we're going to need some wasp's eggs.

HE GRUMBLES

You'll also need some vinegar, some gum for thickening...

and some copper water for colour.

SCREAMING AND BUZZING

Take the wasp's eggs and mix them all together.

And now...

we're ready for some fancy monk writing.

Mmm...yeah. Oh.

Oh, drat.

We're going to have to do that all over again.

Viewers may like to know that all the names in the following sketch

are genuine Victorian names.

Good day.

Right, settle down.

Mr Butler isn't here today, so I'll be taking the register.

Uh, now I don't know any of you,

so be sure to call out when you hear your name.

Raspberry Lemon,

Lettuce Burger.

Bovril.

I'm sorry, I think I must have picked up a shopping list.

No, Miss, those are children's names.

They're not answering cos they're sick.

Bovril and Raspberry?

Honestly, Christian names have got really weird

since Victoria became Queen.

Well, OK, on with the register.

-On my way, Miss.

-Sit down, what are you talking about?

You said, "OK, on with the register."

I'm OK, OK Johnson.

Well, OK, uh,

unless I give permission, never get out of your seat.

-Yes, miss.

-Why are you standing up?

You said, "Never get out of your seat," I'm Never, Never Rookrook.

Has nobody got an ordinary name in this classroom? Yes?

-Toilet.

-All right, be quick.

No, that's my name.

I think that's quite a normal name. My sister's called Baboon.

Toilet and Baboon?

Your parents must be evil.

No, that's Evil over there.

Yes?

I've got an ordinary name, Miss, it's Susan.

Ah, that's more like it.

Susan Semolina Thrower.

Right, let's just try and get through this, shall we?

I'll say your names, you say here

and uh, I'll try not to say your names accidentally. Happy?

-Yes, Miss?

-Don't tell me your name's Happy?

Right, register, here we go.

-Freezer Breezer.

-Here, Miss.

-Princess Cheese.

-Here, Miss.

-Minty Badger.

-Here, Miss.

Scary Looker...

No, I'm sorry, why would anybody call their child Scary Looker?

Forget I asked.

Now...

I am...

Miss...

Farting...

Clack.

Good morning Miss Farting Clack.

CHILDREN GIGGLE

Oh, hello there. Yes, those really were all real Victorian names.

Minty Badger and Princess Cheese.

Eh, it makes what celebrities call their children nowadays

almost normal.

Yeah, right!

Our Queen, Victoria, had something of a weight problem.

She was advised to do more walking but she refused.

Victoria simply hated taking exercise.

Do you want a body like Queen Victoria's?

Do you want to be wider than you are tall?

Then you need help, or The Queen Victoria workout.

It's not easy staying in shape when you're a busy royal, so I don't.

Let me show you how.

And sit, and rule. And sit and rule.

Wait for it.

And rule some more.

That's right, sit and rule, like Queen Victoria did for 63 years.

Now, let's exercise those arms.

And recreate Queen Victoria's mourning for her husband Albert.

Don't forget to wear black.

And...

Mourn. And mourn. That's it.

Keep going for the next 40 years.

OK, time to try some dips.

Watch out, Ma'am, he's an assassin.

And dip.

And dip again.

Yes, dip like Queen Vic.

She survived seven attempts to assassinate her.

Phew, some real exercise.

Now I'm exhausted and hungry.

The Queen Victoria workout,

learn the secrets of how the Queen stays out of shape.

Yes, you too can have a body that only looks good in a black sack.

We Romans had some horrible ways of entertaining ourselves,

like watching gladiators fight against wild animals.

People of Rome,

welcome to the final day of Emperor Titus's 100 days of games.

To mark the opening of the mighty Coliseum,

we've seen gladiators take on lions, tigers, buffalo, rhino,

even crocodiles.

What will they bring you today?

Oh, just as long as it's not tigers, I hate tigers.

Release the beasts.

CHEERING

Well, um, we've got a bit of a problem with today's show.

We, we've run out of animals.

-What?

-Well, after 100 days of entertainment,

they have all been slaughtered.

We've literally run out.

-So no lions?

-No.

-Tigers?

-No.

Thank gods.

We have found half a bear, but it's not much good at fighting.

Elephants? Leopards? Hippos?

No. Rome has plundered the whole of North Africa for wild animals

and you gladiators have killed them all.

There are none left.

What's going on down there?

Nothing. Won't be a second.

Listen, the crowd are baying for blood.

We've got to find an animal to slaughter, otherwise we're dead men.

-We'll have to fight one another.

-Well, there is one, I suppose.

CHEERING

A gerbil?

That's 100% accu-rat.

Well, except that little bit about the gerbil,

which is just a bit silly.

But the Romans really did run out of animals for their games.

In fact, they took so many lions from North Africa,

that there are no lions in North Africa to this day.

That's right, the rat knows all. Aha!

One performance in the Roman arena featured elephants

doing what with their trunks?

Was it:

The answer is...

B.

The elephants traced Latin words in the sand with their trunks.

Of course, we Romans didn't just use animals for entertainment,

we also used them to execute people, in some very strange ways.

Get your animals for execution here.

All the animals you need for traditional Roman executions

under one roof.

Yes, sir?

Yeah, hi, um, I'd like to buy 5,000 wasps.

Ooh, we've had a bit of a run on wasps, very low on stock.

Oh, dear. Um, do you have any other winged insect

that can sting a man to death who's covered in honey?

Not really. A bee could do it on a good day, but there's no guarantee.

I've got this criminal

and I'm supposed to get him stung to death by wasps.

Well, have you considered sticking him in a sack

with a wild dog and a lobster?

The thing is we've already covered him in honey.

Oh, yes, I see your point.

Well, I do have a delivery of wasps coming in on Tuesday,

if that's any good to ya.

No, I really need him killed this side of the weekend.

In which case, I think, honey or no honey,

your best bet is gonna be a dog and a lobster.

Do you think it would do the job?

Yeah, you'd usually tie up the sack and chuck it in a river,

just to be sure.

-Seems a bit cruel to the dog.

-But the lobster loves it.

And we're giving away a free sack with every dog-lobster combo,

this week only.

I dunno, the boss was quite specific about the whole wasp thing.

I'll do you a good deal and uh, that's not the only combo, nah, no,

dog and lobster's the most popular one,

but I can do ya pig and octopus,

badger and prawns, monkey with a stingray, camel and a goldfish.

I wouldn't recommend camel and a goldfish, you need a massive sack

and they don't do a good job.

Mmm. D'you know what, thinking about it,

I might just hit him over the head with a shovel.

-Yeah, that's probably best.

-Thanks, anyway.

-All right.

Right, come on you.

-Yes, mate?

-I'd like to make a complaint.

HE LAUGHS

OK, some of those weren't real execution methods,

but they did sting people to death with wasps,

and the Roman punishment for killing your father

really was being tied up in a sack with an angry dog...

and a lobster... and thrown into the river.

Cor, what a way to go, eh?

Heh. Nippy, but clean.

Time again for our fairytale series,

where the stories are retold in different historical settings.

Today, The Ugly Duckling - the Middle Ages Version.

And the Ugly Duckling was very sad because he was so very ugly.

But then, one day, the Ugly Duckling looked at his reflection

and found that he had grown into a beautiful swan.

"Oh, happy day, I'm not ugly any more!" said the swan.

Ha ha ha ha, you certainly aren't.

Said the King, who happened to be passing that day.

You're a beautiful swan.

And the beautiful swan was very happy, until the King added...

And you'll make an even more beautiful pie.

Yes, the King killed the swan and ate him,

because this was the Middle Ages and swan pie was a bit of a treat

for posh people in those days,

and so the Ugly Duckling would've been better off staying ugly.

The end.

Did you know that in the late 1400s,

King Henry VII passed a law

saying that only royals could kill and eat swans?

To this very day, the Queen owns all the swans in Britain,

except for the ones in Orkney,

where an old Viking law still states that they belong to everyone.

Hmm, not just a pretty face, me, eh?

And if you think eating roast swan is weird, wait till you find out

what one posh bloke served up for his Middle Ages dinner party.

Almost there.

I tell you, if I ever have to look at another napkin again,

or another swan for that matter...

-Eh, look lively, here comes the boss.

-His Lordship, the Earl of Warwick.

Right, I wish to see the Chief Cook

or whichever peasant stinks the least.

My Lord?

Mmm, tolerable.

I would ask your name, but I don't care.

No, I simply came down here

to check on the preparations for tonight's banquet.

It's not every day I get the chance to celebrate

-my brother being made Archbishop.

-No, my Lord.

Which is why I've laid 60 cooks at your disposal, to create a feast,

the likes of which the world has never seen.

-Yes, my Lord.

-After all, I need to set a good example.

HE BURPS

As requested, we've lovingly prepared 104 juicy oxen.

Marvellous. I love a bit of nice, lean beef, don't you cook?

I wouldn't know, sir,

us peasants can't afford such pleasures.

Well, if you'll insist on being poor. And what else?

Um, 1,000 sizzling swine.

1,000? Oh, better make it two, be on the safe side.

Uh, an extra thousand swine, right you are, my Lord.

Then we've 1,000 sheep, 13 desserts.

13?!

Oh, well, excuse me, 13,000 desserts.

Mmm.

-And uh, the vegetables?

-None at all, sir.

Excellent. I don't want my guests thinking I eat like a peasant.

Oh, no, sir, carrots and the like are for scum like me, sir.

Yes, they are. Hmm-mmm.

All right, go about your business, you grubby little commoner.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Right, we need 1,000 extra swine.

NO-O-O-O!

Cancel the swans, I've changed my mind.

Make 'em into the shape of crowns.

Yes... Little crowns.

SHE SOBS

That's exactly what the Earl of Warwick served up to his guests

when his brother became Archbishop.

That's 100% accu-rat.

Ha. Personally, I'm happy with the odd dead pigeon.

HE GASPS

Darn rats.

Which of these table manners was considered acceptable

in the Middle Ages?

Was it:

The answer is...

C. You could burp at the table, but not into people's faces.

And now it's time to meet those ever- so-clever chaps, the brainy Greeks.

Good evening, I'm Aristotle, ancient Greek philosopher.

And I'm Archimedes, inventor, physicist, mathematician, engineer.

And big head.

THEY LAUGH

And now, from Ancient Greece,

another brilliant invention, the First Play Ever.

Greetings other person in this play.

Greetings yourself.

CHEERING

'Two men stand still onstage and talk to each other for four hours.

'Yes, four hours!

'With no action.

'No costumes, and no interval.

'The First Play Ever, by Aeschylus.

'In Greek amphitheatres in 474 BC.

'I know it looks boring, but there's literally nothing else on.'

HE SNORES

Mmm, sorry. Hmm. Up to that point, going to the theatre

meant watching one man drivelling on for hours.

Two men drivelling on for hours was a major breakthrough.

HE SNORES

That's right, and from then on

Greek plays were either tragedies or comedies,

which is funny because the way their inventor died was a bit of both.

# Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

# They're funny cos they're true

# Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

# Hope next time it's not you. #

Ooh.

Next.

Ah, at last.

-Name?

-Aeschylus.

Oh, year of death?

458 BC.

-Profession?

-Greek playwright.

I'll just put la-di-dah writer. Hmm.

Method of death?

Well, I was walking along, minding my own business.

There was an eagle flying high in the sky above me,

it had caught a tortoise and was looking for a rock to drop it upon.

Eh?

You know, to crack it open so it could eat it.

Oh, I see, and?

It saw my bald head shining in the sun.

And mistook it for a rock?

Yes. Splat.

I was killed instantly.

HE LAUGHS

What, stone dead?

HE LAUGHS

You're dead funny.

-And what happened to the tortoise?

-Oh, it was fine.

TURTLEY fine?

HE LAUGHS

-Turtley fine.

-Very funny.

It was a tortoise.

-It still works.

-No, it doesn't.

Turtley fine - tortoise.

It works. Get out.

HE LAUGHS

Did you hear my joke? It was very funny. Next.

# Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

# Hope next time it's not you. #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

In World War II, lots of children were sent to the countryside

to be safe from bombs,

and to find a family to take them in, they needed to look their best.

It's no good, dear, too late. All that's left are the dregs.

Don't be mean. These poor little urchins

have come from the city to escape Hitler's bombs.

They've left their mothers and fathers behind,

they need care, compassion and a roof over their heads.

They need a good wash.

I mean, look at this little fellow.

Hello there, have you got a name?

Got fleas.

Urgh. Maybe you're right, dear,

perhaps we should come back tomorrow.

Mmm.

Oh, why, thank you.

Oh, Harold, look, she's perfect.

We'll take this one, please. Come on.

At last, I've been standing there for BLEEP ages.

Let's go BLEEP home.

I'm BLEEP starving.

On second thoughts, we'll take the fleabag.

And life wasn't any easier for the children in Germany.

Are you a German boy aged 10 to 14?

Vant to learn how to tie knots,

pitch a tent und sing songs around ze campfire?

Vant to learn how to march?

Fight und die in battle?

Eh?

So join the Hitler Youth today

and be taught to despise anyone who isn't German.

Everyone is signing up.

Don't miss out, you must join today.

No, really, you MUST join.

It's compulsory.

Join up and get our Hitler Youth special offer.

Report your parents for listening to enemy radio today

and we promise to have them locked up for years.

Plus, get three posters of your favourite German celebrities.

There's me, und there's me und there iz also me.

Yes, join the Hitler Youth,

and if you're lucky we'll run so short of troops

we'll send you off to fight und get killed for the Fatherland.

But I'm only 10.

Talk to the hand coz the face ain't listening.

The Hitler Youth, it is just like the Scouts, only evil.

When the Allies stormed into Berlin at the end of World War II,

most of the German soldiers they found were children or teenagers.

They were forced to defend their capital or be shot for cowardice,

and one anti-aircraft gun was manned entirely by teenage girls.

It's horrible, but it's true.

True or false?

Adolf Hitler was a vegetarian and hated to see creatures suffer?

It's...

true.

Amongst other things...

When he knew he'd lost the war, Adolf Hitler, the Nazi leader,

killed himself in his Berlin bunker.

Hitler was dead, or was he?

Well, obviously he was, but many believed Hitler had survived.

After the war, there were hundreds of stories circulating

about him being alive and...

Well, here are the top three strangest Hitler rumours.

Number three, he was living as a shepherd in Switzerland.

All right, men, will you follow me?

SHEEP BLEAT

Goot. Right, I'm off to teach a goose how to march the goosestep.

Number two, he was working as a fisherman in Ireland.

Are you coming, Sean?

I'll be with you in a second, Patrick, begorra.

I just need to trim the old moustache.

And number one, he was living in an underground hideout in Sweden,

with enough tinned food to last for years.

Unfortunately for me, it's all baked beans.

HE BREAKS WIND

Urgh, phewph, I wish I WAS dead.

# Tall tales, atrocious acts We gave you all the fearsome facts

# No glitz We showed you all the juicy bits

# Gory, ghastly, mean and cruel Stuff they don't teach you at school

# The past is no longer a mystery

# Hope you enjoyed Horrible Histories. #

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