Episode 9 Horrible Histories

# Terrible Tudors, gorgeous Georgians Slimy Stuarts, vile Victorians

# Woeful wars, ferocious fights Dingy castles, daring knights

# Horrors that defy description Cut-throat Celts, awful Egyptians

# Vicious Vikings, cruel crimes Punishment from ancient times

# Romans, rotten, rank and ruthless Cavemen, savage, fierce and toothless

# Groovy Greeks, brainy sages 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. #

MALE CHORAL SINGING

-Could you pass me the ink pot, please, Brother Terry.

-Shh!

-Thank you very much indeed.

-SHHH!

AAARGH!

SHHH!

Sorry.

ALL SHOUT IN ATTACK

-Whoa, you don't want to do that!

-Give me one good reason why.

-I'm writing a history book about our island monastery.

-A history book?!

Er, boring.

-Boredom!

-Actually, it's very important.

This book is going to be handed down for generations.

If you kill me now no-one will know of your heroic exploits.

-You want to be famous, don't you?

-Yeah...

-You're Eric, right?

-Yep.

That's just not going to cut it. How about, "Eric The Fierce..." Yeah?

-Like it.

-"..Tore into the monk's room, over six feet tall."

That's good!

-Write about my biceps.

-All right.

"Rippling biceps..."

-Do me, do some stuff about me.

-"Swiftly followed by..."

-Olaf The Terrifying, I think.

-"..Olaf The Terrifying.

"Also six foot tall."

-Er, make, make me bigger, put seven foot.

-What?!

That's not true, he's clearly not seven foot.

He is now, cos I've just written it down in the history book, mate.

All right, write, "Eric The Fierce killed the most monks."

-Well, that's not true either.

-Oh...well, it might be.

-Did he get that last bit down?

-Erm...

Who am I kidding? Vikings can't read.

-Some lovely pictures though, look at that!

-Oh, look at the little bunny.

It's true. Vikings didn't write things down, so much of what

we know about famous Viking warriors comes from books written by monks.

Monks were the only people who could read and write

which also meant that were highly prized as slaves.

Hi there, we've just come back from a Viking raid where

we nicked loads of monks, which is great news for you

if you're looking for a nice, well-behaved monk slave because...

# We sell any monk Any, any, any, any, any monk

# We sell any monk

# Fat ones, slim ones Bright ones, dim ones

# We sell any monk. #

Yes, and you can use your monk slave for all sorts of everyday chores,

such as wall building to manure spreading,

from peat digging to manure spreading, and don't forget...

# We sell any monk Any, any, any, any, any monk

# We sell any monk

# One to read, one to write Not much good in a fight

# We sell any monk. #

Based in the new Viking city of Dublin,

our market place offers an extensive range of top quality monk slaves

from Scotland, Ireland and Cornwall and we sell

to satisfied customers all over Europe and as far away as Italy.

# We sell any monk Any, any, any, any, any monk.

# Nice ones, grim ones, Chopped off a limb ones. #

Aa-oww!

Sorry.

We sell any monk, any size, any age, any look, any price

from five silver coins to a big gold plate, we sell any monk.

And cut!

Aa-oow!

Erm, I meant, "That's a wrap."

Oh! Sorry.

No, I don't know why your dog can't dance...

Because he's got two left feet. All dogs have two left feet.

Is this some kind of joke?

-Good day to you, madam.

-Hello, how can I help you?

I require a dozen pigeons.

Right, not a problem, any particular type?

I care not, but could you break their wings so they can't fly,

makes them an awful lot easier to shoot!

HE IMITATES GUNFIRE

Look, I sell pets, I don't hurt them first.

Shame, as I also require a dog.

To cook it, I suppose, for some horrible Victorian dinner party.

How dare you, I assure you the dog would be very well looked after.

All right then, fine.

After all, it would need to be in peak condition

to fight a box of rats for money.

-Oh, and I need a box of rats.

-No.

Fine!

I don't suppose you have a bear whose face I could shave

so I could sell it to a fairground as a pig-faced lady?

No pigeons, no dogs, no rats, no pig-faced lady bears.

Do you stock anything?

Hello, sir.

Good day, madam, I require a...

Get out! I've had enough trouble.

I'm not selling any more animals to Victorians to be mistreated.

How dare you?! I am the second Baron Rothschild,

I am famous for my GOOD treatment of animals.

Am I not the man whose carriage is drawn by four much-loved Zebras?

Who shares his supper with 12 pet chimpanzees?

Who allows snakes free run of his ornamental staircase?

Well, in which case, what can I get you?

Do you have a bear that slaps ladies' bottoms?

No. But I do have a frog...

-Interesting creature.

-..That slaps Victorians' faces!

How dare you, madam?

Go on, get out the pair of you.

I have never been so insulted by a woman with a frog!

Get out.

I have once.

The second Baron Rothschild's mansion

really did feature pet chimps,

a bear who slapped ladies bottoms, snakes around the banisters

and a carriage pulled by zebras.

"Oh, see you later, darling, I'm just off to the zoo.

"Oh, hold on, I already live in the zoo!"

HE LAUGHS

Of course, most Victorian carriages were pulled by horses

and that had its own problems.

'The Victorian traffic report now. Here's Abigail Tightcorset.'

It's bad news, I'm afraid, if you're planning to travel in London today

as road conditions are very hazardous.

It's the 1890s and the narrow streets of the city are packed

with buses and cabs, all of which are pulled by horses,

so you can expect to see massive pile-ups of horse dung

here, here and here.

In fact, hundreds of tons of horse dung

will pour all over the streets of London over the next 24 hours

leading to very slippery conditions underfoot, so please do be careful.

The authorities are doing what they can to clear up the situation

and you should be seeing young boys,

all over the city shovelling up that horse poo.

You should see them as they'll be wearing red jumpers,

so they'll be easy to spot and won't get run over.

I say red, but by now, those jumpers are going to be brown

or reddy-brown, at least.

There are reports of an overflowing sewer on Regent Street,

so at least that road will be a bit cleaner now.

Good night.

Our Tudor money system was very complicated,

very, very complicated indeed.

-Hello!

-Hi, mate.

-IN A FRENCH ACCENT:

-I'd like to buy some English money.

-Oh, straight off the boat are we?

-How can you tell?

Oh, it's a gift.

Right, how many sovereigns, pounds, crowns, shillings,

angels, farthings, groats and pennies would you like, sir?

-Pardon?

-It's simple, you got your penny, halfpenny,

your farthing - a quarter of a penny. Four pennies is a groat.

-A goat?

-A groat.

Two pennies is half a groat, 12 pennies is a shilling.

So six pennies is half a shilling, no?

No, six pennies is sixpence, obviously. Or three half groats.

-Now, this is your half crown.

-Which is two shillings?

No, it's two shillings and sixpence. Or a quarter angel,

which is a 120 pennies, which is ten shillings, yeah?

Half an angel, that's 60 pennies, which is a crown,

which is five shillings.

-Now, ten shillings...

-Is an angel?

-No, it's half a pound.

-A pound?

-No, half a pound, it's also an angel, yeah,

but it's 120 pennies, which is half of 240 pennies

which is a pound. It's also 20 shillings.

It's simple, I don't know what the problem is.

-OK, well, I will take, um, 30 shillings.

-Right.

-There you go.

-What, what is that?

It's a sovereign. It's worth 30 shillings.

-Er, I, er...

-Do you want me to go over it again?

-Oui, I think that would be best.

-Right...

Did you know, decimalised money -

where you count in tens and hundreds -

didn't come to Britain until 1971?

I wouldn't like to do the sums for Tudor money, maths is not my thirte.

Oh, I mean forte. Ha-ha!

Yes, there were lots of weird Tudor coins

and lots of weird Tudor laws, as well.

-Sir William is here to see you, Your Majesty.

-Then send him in.

Enter!

-Good day to you, Your Majesty.

-Guard! Arrest this man.

On what charge?

-Not wearing a woolly hat.

-You're not wearing a woolly hat.

Of course I'm not wearing a woolly hat, they look ridiculous.

I have passed a law that everybody should wear woolly hats on Sundays.

It is to support the English wool trade.

I happen to have a spare, my lady.

Ta-dah.

Oh, Cecil, what would we do without you?

-I'll start again. Good day to you, Your Majesty.

-Guard!

-What now?

-Arrest this man.

-On what charge?

-Wearing a cloak.

-You're wearing a cloak.

-Yes, I'm wearing a clock, it's cold.

I have passed a law banning cloaks, so that my courtiers

can reach their swords quicker, should anyone wish to attack me.

Is everybody happy now?

-Good day to you.

-Guard!

-Odds bodkins!

-Arrest this man.

-On what charge?

-Wearing purple.

-I thought it was rather fetching.

I have passed a law stating that purple cloth or any other cloth

embroidered with gold or silver can only be worn by Barons, Viscounts

or higher nobility.

And you, SIR William are only a knight.

Happy now?

Cecil, there appears to be a naked man in my throne room.

-There does indeed, Your Majesty.

-Is there a law against it?

Not yet, Your Majesty, not yet.

Hello and welcome to Aztec Gardeners World.

So today we're going to be showing you a sure-fire way

to make your crops flourish with the Aztec sprinkler system.

Sounds boring if you ask me!

Yeah, but nobody asked you though, did they?

So we're going to need some tools. HE YAWNS

-You need a bow and plenty of arrows.

-Oh, that's more like it.

We're going to need some red paint

and of course, a person to sacrifice.

An enemy warrior is best, but an annoying assistant will do.

You're kidding... You're kidding, right?

So, first of all,

you need to paint a nice, big, red spot directly over his heart.

OK...

This is important because you don't want an arrow to hit his heart.

Right!

That way, he would die far too quickly.

What you need is the first dozen or so arrows

to hit different parts of his body,

that way the blood from the wounds will spray out in all directions,

a bit like an Aztec sprinkler system,

making the earth richer for your crops.

He's gone, hasn't he?

Join me next week when I'll be telling you how to get

the sun to shine directly onto your garden

by sacrificing 10,000 people to the sun god.

We all know who's going to be first in line.

Bye-bye for now.

Angry Aztec priests would sacrifice about 50,000 victims a year!

That's nothing - I can kill that many fleas just by having a bath.

Ou-ou-ou-ouch! Just kidding, guys, you know I'd never have a wash!

Yes, those Aztecs did an awful lot of sacrificing.

'Don't miss this year's must-have board game, Aztec Whodunnit-o.

'See if you can work who's to blame for the murder.'

Was it the high priest, with the sacrificial dagger,

on top of the pyramid?

Yes, it was!

Not over yet.

'With thousands of sacrifices to the sun god every week,

'it's a game you can play again...'

Was it the high priest, with the sacrificial dagger,

on top of the pyramid?

Yes, it was!

I'll go out on a limb here - was it the high priest,

with the sacrificial dagger, on top of the pyramid?

-Yes, it was.

-Get in!

-Come on, Mum.

-Come on, Linda.

OK, don't hurry me.

Was it the emperor, with the club, in the throne room?

No, it was the...

ALL: High priest, with the sacrificial dagger, on top of the pyramid!

Silly mummy.

'Aztec Whodunnit-o. Hours of gruesome fun for all the family.

'Available while the Aztec Empire lasts.'

# We're Aztec priests So mind your head.

# Our prisoners always wind up dead Our favourite colour is blood-red

# We're not nice

# At an Aztec temple's opening day

# We priests would please Our gods this way

# Hearts of venom means we'd slay Mass sacrifice

# To win at war, may crops grow more

# To cure our kids when ill

# The sun to shine This song to rhyme

# More victims we must kill

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# You won't survive You won't survive

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# Ain't stayin' alive Ain't stayin' alive

# Yeah

# We'll sacrifice We priests appease

# Our gods each powerful big cheese

# Let's hear it for your Favourites please

# Ahh-ahhh

# We're doing it for Toci

# The Aztec goddess of the earth's heart

# We're doing it for Chantico

# Goddess who makes volcanoes start

# We're doing it for Itzli

# The goddess of stone knives

# We're doing it for...

THEY SING GARBLED NAMES

# Some other gods great lives

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# Don't cross us Aztecs we advise ya

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# Or you'll end up as fertiliser

# Yeah

# Our year starts in November

# When every priestly member

# Is asked if they'll remember

# Our Aztec dead

# We do this if you haven't guessed

# By getting something off your chest

# Your heart would probably be best Or else your head

# And then on our year planners

# It's the raising of the banners

# And it's only polite manners

# To kill more guys

# December and January Dismembering methods vary

# All you need to know Is that we pile 'em high

# May and June it's summertime The killing is easy

# It's only halfway through the year

# Bet your feeling queasy

# In autumn time we sweep our homes And kill some more but then

# By late October the killings over Then it starts up again

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# You won't survive You won't survive

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# Ain't stayin' alive Ain't stayin' alive

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# Want to live until you're old

# Ha, ha, ha, ha

# Avoid us priests You've been told. #

Not all of the troops fighting in the trenches in World War One

were quite what you'd expect.

Sergeant, I thought I'd make a quick spot inspection while it's, erm...

Nice and safe while the enemy aren't shooting at us, sir?

Well, yes. I thought I'd take a look at our frontline troops.

British fighting man's the best in the world!

Yes, indeed, sir. Well, the, erm, MEN are ready for you, sir.

Oh, very good.

Attention!

Sergeant, they appear to be women and a boy.

Yes, sir, but only physically sir. Legally they're men.

I've seen their sign-up papers.

They all clearly lied when they signed up, then.

I mean, this one here's practically a child.

According to his papers he's 36 and married with three children.

Let's face it, the British army's so desperate we'll let anyone in.

Well, what happens when a great strapping German division attacks?

We're about to find out, sir, they're in the trench.

Here they come.

What on earth is going on, sergeant?

It seems the Germans have a similar situation,

their army's packed full of pensioners.

I think he died of old age.

Well, keep up the good work. Carry on men...women, boys.

That's the spirit, sir.

The answer is C...

..and lice weren't the only problem

in the trenches.

HHTV games presents, the ultimate World War One trench experience,

Splat That Rat.

Your trench is infested with rats, carrying disease

and stealing your food.

It's time to Splat That Rat.

'Level one. Select bait - processed meat, cheese,

'manky old stale bread.

'Manky old stale bread selected.

'Level one. Weapon - spade. Bonus gadget - torch.'

It's night. Scatter bait on the ground and wait till

you hear the rats arrive, then turn on the torch and Splat That Rat.

Gotcha!

Oh, that's my foot!

'Level two. Bonus weapon - cordite explosive.'

This time you have to smoke 'em out.

Put the cordite at the entrance to the rat hole and light it.

The smoke will drive out those rats so you can splat 'em.

'Warning - do not use too much cordite.'

Now she tells me.

'Level three. Select bait - cheese selected.

'Level three. Weapon - rifle. Bonus weapon - bayonet.'

Place the bayonet on the end of your rifle,

put the cheese on the end of the bayonet,

then wait till a rat begins to nibble on the cheese

and pull the trigger.

'Warning, make sure rifle isn't aimed at fellow soldier.'

ARGH! That's my foot!

Sorry.

Right stop this sketch, stop the sketch!

That's huge!

Honestly, who wants to hear how they killed rats in the trenches?

You might well run away!

A line of decency has most definitely been crossed here,

if there's any more nonsense like this,

I shall be writing a stiff letter of complaint to the Daily Mail!

You know I will. You know I will!

In today's busy Roman Empire,

nothing is more important than staying in touch,

which is why you need...

Tabellarii Messenger, da-da-da-da, what is your message?

"Hi Hels my BFF TLK L8R smiley face."

"Hi Hels my BFF TLK L8R smiley face."

Perfect. Send.

Our unique network of straight roads reaching around the Roman Empire,

means with Tabellarii it's never been quicker to connect with people.

Tabellarii Messenger, da-da-da-da.

Message reads, "Hi Hels my BFF TLK L8R smiley face."

Reply with, "GR8."

-Is that it?

-Yeah, send.

So whether it's business...

"Enemy's approaching. Send help. Send reinforcements." Send!

..or just a friendly chat.

"OMG YG2BK winking smiley..."

The Tabellarii are always there at the bargain price

of a little food and water a month for unlimited messages.

Tabellarius!

Tabellarius!

And like all slaves, the Tabellarii come with a lifelong contract.

Oh, no! Heart attack, sad face.

Which expires once you've worked them to death.

Oh, no. I think he's run out of juice.

Who are you?

-Bing-bong-bung-bing, free upgrade.

-Smiley face.

As well as our sophisticated Tabellarii messaging system,

us Romans were also hot on security.

So to help keep the peace, the gates of Rome were heavily guarded.

Stop looking so nervous, you'll draw attention to yourself.

Easy for you to say, you're not smuggling weapons into the city.

We've got to get them in there somehow.

How else will we overthrow the Emperor?

If they catch me they'll kill me.

Listen, you'll be fine, no-one's going to know you're a soldier,

the guards won't give you a second look.

-Now, are you ready?

-No.

-Good lad.

Spot check, sir.

-Sorry?

-Spot check, Emperor Constantine's orders.

Some dangerous elements are attempting to gain entry

to the great city of Rome, so we're doing a few random checks.

-You don't mind if I look in the bag, sir?

-Erm, actually...

-It won't take a moment.

-HE WHISTLES

Hello, what have we here? Swords?

I can explain.

-Spear tips!

-Yeah, about those.

-And daggers as well.

It's not what it looks like.

You're not, by any chance, in the army, are we, sir?

No, honestly, I'm not.

-Well, that's all right then.

-What?

-That's all right.

As long as you're not in the army, no armed soldiers are allowed

inside the city walls in case they start a military rebellion,

last thing we want is the Emperor being overthrown, eh?

HE LAUGHS

So I'm guessing this lot is,

what is that, like self-defence or something?

Yeah, self-defence.

Well, you can be on your way, unless you've anything else to declare?

No, no, just these offensive weapons.

Unless I'm supposed to declare my lunch?

Oh, don't tempt me sir,

on a long shift like this I would murder a chicken leg.

-Can't help you there, all I've got is this sausage.

-Sausage!

-You're under arrest, traitor.

-What?!

Trying to bring sausages into a civilised city like Rome

is strictly forbidden by Emperor Constantine himself!

That is food of the barbarians, it is beneath us.

Falco, take this sausage smuggler away and put him in a cell.

Wait, wait, it's not really a sausage,

it's more of a frankfurter. Think of it as a tubular burger. Please!

It's true! Weapons were allowed to be carried by body guards,

so they could be taken into Rome.

But sometimes sausages were banned! It was believed this barbarian food

would turn civilised Romans into hairy barbarians.

Not that there's anything wrong with being hairy.

It's day one of Medieval Come Dine With Me

and wealthy castlewife, Lady Cranky Portcullis is finishing her banquet.

Right, I've gone for the classic meat and two meats,

lamb, beef and hedgehog.

Hm, hm, hm, meaty! There's just one problem.

It's not Friday today, is it?

Doh!

We can't eat meat on a Friday, the church has banned it.

Huh, silly, silly me!

Right, where can one get some fresh fish at such short notice?

Oh, I know, the castle moat, huh.

A net should do it.

Most of the fish are floating on the surface for some reason, anyway.

Come on Lady Cranky, the guests will be here soon. Oh, they're here!

And first in is lowly peasant Cybil.

-Hello!

-Can I just say, I love your castle.

Oh! Oh! You've got an outdoor shower!

Oh! No, no, that'll be one of the guards

weeing from the battlements. Come on.

Next is Marcus, a student monk.

-Hello!

-Hello. H...

Oh, dear...have you just broken your vow of silence? Oh.

Oh, that is disgusting, I, oh...

Last to arrive is Derek, who commits the ultimate social faux pas,

of dying of the plague the moment he steps through the door.

What an idiot.

Oh! Get him off me, oh!

Before dinner, Lady Cranky takes Cybil on a tour of the castle.

And this is the guardrobe.

Oh, what's one of those?

Oh, every good castle has one, it's a sort of walk-in wardrobe,

kitted out with a special device to keep the moths away.

-A toilet.

-Do you mind?!

Oh, fancy.

Apparently, the moths can't stand the smell so they keep away

and your clothes don't get nibbled.

Do you see, no more embarrassing holes.

No, just an embarrassing stink!

Right, bon appetit!

First impressions?

Well, it does look and smell a bit..

-..pooey.

-This fish is fresh from our moat.

Yes, where it's been eating all the sewage from the toilet, you numpty.

-Marcus.

-Yes?

Come on, say when.

When. When!

Good man!

Erm, when! WHEN!

Marcus, lost for words there.

Time for those all-important scores.

Well, I thought the food was...

It's a two from Marcus.

A nought from Cybil, which just leaves Derek.

It's a ten! Sort of.

Marcus the monk's turn tomorrow. Hope everyone likes bread and water.

# Tall tales, atrocious acts, we gave You all the fearsome facts... #

Want some more Horrible Histories?

Then come with me down the time sewers,

just go to the CBBC website and click on Horrible Histories.

See you down there!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd