Episode 11 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. #

Ah, not a cloud in the sky.

CAWING

Blasted ravens!

Ah, Flamsteed, my esteemed Royal Astronomer,

what's in store for a Gemini? Any parties?

That's astrology, Your Majesty, I do astronomy.

I deal with scientific observation, not superstitious mumbo jumbo.

Knew you were going to say that, typical Leo.

It's a joke, I'm joking!

We're now entering a new age of enlightenment.

We must cast aside our beliefs in irrational things

-and put our faith in science and reason.

-Precisely.

How are you getting on here at the top of the Tower of London?

You certainly do get a bird's-eye view.

That's not the only bird thing you get.

Ooh, that's a big planet.

My word! Your Majesty, I believe you've discovered

a new constellation.

Skills!

I can quite clearly see a big white splodge

surrounded by a host of tiny little splodges.

Why, it's the Milky Way!

Oh no, it's not, a raven's pooed on the end of my telescope.

Your Majesty,

I cannot work under these circumstances.

Either the ravens go or I go.

Are you stark raven mad?

It's a joke, I'm joking!

Everyone knows that if the ravens ever leave the Tower,

the entire kingdom itself will fall.

In fact, just to make sure that never happens,

I'm going to order that from now on at least six ravens be

kept at the Tower at the expense of the British government,

forever.

But Your Majesty, my observatory!

Relax, I'll build you a new one in Greenwich.

Oh, Your Majesty, thank you!

You are truly dedicated to science and the pursuit of knowledge.

Big time. And it's a great excuse for a massive opening party. Huh!

Ooh, that's good luck, you know.

-Is it?

-Yes. Yes, it is.

Yes, the Stuart era really was a time of scientific advancement,

so you might be surprised what some doctors thought was good for you.

Hello, friend, I'm Doctor Nicholas Culpeper, author of

Doctor Culpeper's Complete Herbal book.

Feeling under the weather?

Good. Then why not come to my wonderful Stuart health spa.

# Come to Doctor Culpeper's Health Spa. #

This man is suffering from a cough. What he needs...

COUGHING

What he needs.... COUGHING

I'm trying to do a thing here. What he needs

is a healthy Stuart herbal cure.

Tobacco. Take this and your cough will be gone in no time.

-Are you sure?

-Sure I'm sure.

I'm a doctor.

# For treatment that is truly bizarre

# Come to Doctor Culpeper's Health Spa. #

HE COUGHS

In the treatment rooms of my health spa,

we're equipped to deal with any number of medical problems,

from chronic indigestion, to stomach worms,

to a splitting headache.

Whatever the ailment,

an intensive course of smoking tobacco will do the trick.

How's the headache now, Dear?

I feel sick.

And dizzy.

And the headache has gone. It's working already.

# Leave here with your lungs full of tar

# Come to Doctor Culpeper's Health Spa. #

Nonsense! Tobacco is good for you. Look how healthy everyone looks.

Urgh!

# Come to Doctor Culpeper's Health Spa. #

We could open a window.

Five eager chefs, five historical eras, but just one prize.

Who will be crowned Historical MasterChef?

I have literally no idea what I'm talking about.

I enjoy eating beef.

Roland of Rochester is a Crusader from the Middle Ages,

recently returned from fighting in the Middle East.

So, Roland, what are you going to cook for us today, mate?

The great Roland of Rochester doesn't cook,

he's far too busy slaughtering Saracens.

I have this old hag to do my cooking for me.

-I could have walked, you know.

-Old Hag?

Doesn't she have a name?

Oh yes, Old Hag III. I've had a couple die on me.

Roland, we normally insist that all contestants do their own cooking.

Although, in your instance, we will make an exception.

Everybody, start cooking.

Times up!

Hold on, mate, just...

Roland, or rather his assistant, has almost completed the starter.

-What have you cooked for us, mate?

-It's grains of wheat,

that I found, and animal droppings.

We were a little unprepared for such a long Crusade.

Normally, we'd steal food from the locals,

but they'd run out, due to a bad harvest.

So we had to rely on supply ships, they sank, catastrophe!

So we had to make do with what we could get, even if it's already been

all the way through an animal.

I think I just saw one grain moving there.

-No, that's a nit.

-Ooh.

Finders keepers.

With his starter containing poo and nits, the judges

are worried about the nutritional value of Roland's diet.

Roland, your diet can't be good for you, mate.

You're not kidding. Dysentery's a real problem on crusades.

HE BREAKS WIND

Oh, out the way!

This one's got holes in it.

OK, everyone, you have five minutes.

SQUELCHY FARTS

Aah, aah!

Better make that ten minutes.

SQUELCH!

I see you like your spices, then.

Oh yes, in the Middle East we found all sorts of exotic spices

we'd never heard of before.

Want to try some of this?

It's called pepper.

Ha ha, you're all right, mate.

It helps takes away the taste of the meat, as well.

OK, everybody, time's up.

Now, before I eat this, please tell me it's not horse meat.

No. No, it's not horse meat.

Although we do sometimes have to eat our own horse.

-It's human.

-Argh!

It's sliced enemy backside.

Mm, hot pot.

Where do we find 'em, John?

Grains of wheat

in animal poo, slices of human backside.

SQUELCH!

Ooh, where's the pan?

I don't think I'm going to make it, boys.

Normally, I'd say you're through over my dead body, but,

since you might slice the bottom off my dead body and eat it,

we are saying you're through to the next round.

-Or rather Roland is.

-Ah, argh!

Congratulations.

SQUELCH

Argh!

That's 100% accur-rat.

If things went wrong on Crusade, enemy backside was on the menu. Ha!

I think that's what you call a bum deal!

But Crusaders who managed to make it home did bring back

some wonderful gifts.

They're back! They're back from the Crusades.

Wicked! Will Dad have got me presents?

Duncan, your father did not go all that way just to bring you presents.

He went there to reclaim the Holy Land, and bring me back presents.

Argh, I'm home. At last.

-Where are my presents?

-Oh.

Can't you see what a hard time he's had? He's covered in Saracen blood.

What this? Oh no, it's fruit juice.

Fruit juice?

It's so hot over there that the locals run up the mountainside,

grab a handful of snow and mix it

with some fruit juices to create a sort of slushy thing.

Wicked!

Look, I've brought you back a couple. Ah.

Strawberry Shocker for you, and a Citrus Frenzy for you.

I think they're really going to catch on.

Once we work out how to keep them cold.

Is that it? Karen's husband brought her a gold necklace last time.

I can do much better than that.

We got our very first spice rack.

These Eastern spices are really going to transform

our dull medieval cuisine.

So you don't like my cooking now?

No. It's been a long day. I just want to have a nice, long hot bath.

-A bath?

-We were all doing that over there.

-You should try it one day.

-So I smell now, as well?

A little bit. No, I'm not saying that.

You'd better have something good in there.

Well, I do, look. Perfume.

Here, get a whiff of that.

Oh, roses!

-I walked all the way from Palestine.

-It's not gold, is it?

What are you complaining for?

I bought loads of good stuff back from the Crusades.

Spices, perfume, sugar, silk,

lemons, oranges, apricots,

melons, rhubarb.

Dates, coffee, rice, mirrors, carpets, cotton, paper,

wheelbarrows, mattresses, shawls and chess sets.

Check mate.

Apart from spices, perfume, sugar, silk,

lemons, oranges, apricots, melon,

rhubarb, dates, coffee, rice, mirrors, carpets,

cotton, paper, wheelbarrows, mattresses, shawls and chess sets,

what exactly have I ever got out of the Crusades?

These fruit slushy things.

Haven't you got another Crusade to go on?

Hello, and welcome to the news, in Tudor Criminal Slang.

A Highgate cove is today facing three trees with a ladder,

following the drawer of a high ranking beak.

A Highgate man faces the gallows,

after picking the pocket of a senior magistrate.

The callous foist waited for the beak to couch a hog's head

in his favoured boozing ken before prigging his bun.

The pickpocket waited for the magistrate to fall asleep

in his local pub, before stealing his purse.

In other news, a Dulwich doxy became a prancer prigger.

A female tramp from Dulwich became a horse thief, I think.

The walking mort used the nag to lift peck from a peck barrow.

The, uh, I think that's a tramp,

used the horse to steal some stuff from something.

This spike claimed she would use the peck as a snap with palliards.

The nab cove says the doxy will meet the chats.

Sorry, no idea, clueless on that one.

More on that as we get it.

But, now, it's over to our Tudor soothsayer, Carl,

with the headlines in groundless superstition.

Ah, we're doomed. Doomed!

Thanks, Carl. And now this.

I'd like you to spell the word "believable".

B-A-L-E-E-P-H-A-P-L-E, believable.

Yeah, that'll do. Why not?

Next word, then. "Travelling".

T-R-A-B-H-E-L-L-I-N.

Travelling.

Yeah, whatever. That's fine, I guess.

-BELL RINGS

-And your time's up.

Thank you, Miss Godwin.

Well, the good news is that

since there's no formalised way of spelling in Tudor times,

you can't really spell any word incorrectly,

which means you all win.

The really good news is that we have a very special guest here to

present you all with your joint first prize.

Please welcome Tudor England's most celebrated playwright,

Mister William Shakespeare.

APPLAUSE

That is how you spell it, isn't it?

Yeah, whatever. As you like it.

There really was no correct way of spelling most words in Tudor times.

In fact, Shakespeare himself is known to have spelt his own name

at least six different ways, and that's a F-A-K-T-E, fact!

And so, ladies and gentlemen, for one night only,

would you please welcome to the stage Mister William Shakespeare.

# My name is Shakespeare William

# I owned a feather quill

# I am

# The writer most familiar to you

# My way with words amazes me

# Came up with so many phrases, me

# That still the number dazes me too

# Oh, you've got to be cruel to be kind

# If truth were known

# Love is blind

# Yeah each of these quotes you will find

# It's what I do

# Seen better days

# That's one of his.

# Or salad days

# He is the biz!

# All the world's a stage

# They call me Billy Whizz

# May seem kinda scary

# I'm a walking diction-ary

# Sturdy with the wordy Shakespeare

# Quality of mercy is not strained

# Such stuff as dreams are made

# Off with his head

# My phrases you'll note

# This is the short and long of it

# Brevity is the soul of wit

# As good luck would have it

# You can quote

# Oh, you suffered green-eyed jealousy'

# Please do not stand on ceremony

# I wrote the Queen's English

# Queen's English I wrote

# It's Greek to me

# That's a Shakespeare line

# Meat and drink to me

# He was the first to combine

# Infinite variety

# Yeah, that was one of mine

# Don't call my flaky

# I'm William Shakey

# Not lazy with the phrasy Shakespeare

# I was the greatest

# I was ace

# To find a better writer

# That's a wild good chase

# I was truly brilliant

# Which is why I sing

# You can't have too much of a good thing

If music be the food of love, play on

# Et tu Brute

# Did you ever know?

# Forever and a day

# From a Shakespeare show

# Good riddance, fair play

# Pure as the driven snow

# High time, lie low

# Wherefore art thou Romeo

# The nation's favourite bard Shakespeare

# Doobee Doobe Doobee

To be or not to be

# Shoobeedoobeedobee Shakespeare. #

APPLAUSE

And the prize for the most unpopular king in the Middle Ages goes

to duh duda duh duda dah!

King John!

And he wasn't very popular before he became King, either.

Just check my e-mails, see if anyone likes me.

Nothing! It's unbelievable, I'm the King's brother.

You'd think they'd just ask me to attend like a, uh,

I dunno, a charity banquet or something.

It's not fair!

It's not as if my brother's even here most of the time,

he's too busy with his Crusades.

Oh, it's Mum, what does she want?

Hi, Mum!

'John, my petit courgette.'

I have terrible news.

Richard is dead!

Splendid!

What?

I mean, oh, no, that is awful news. I am...

Do you know what, I can't even pretend, it's brilliant news!

Now I get a proper chance to be king. Laters, Mama.

Yeah, look at that.

Right, first things first,

let's just change my username on my Twaddler account.

There you go.

I might check my at replies while I'm here.

Seems to be a lot of ill feeling about my Irish Prince's joke.

"What's thicker and smells worse than an Irish Prince's beard?

"An Irish Prince."

Dunno what they're complaining about.

Oh, what's this? "Duke Arthur", oh, that's no good.

Can't have a pretender to my throne. I shall block him.

Do you know what, thinking about it, maybe I need

something a bit stronger. Let's do this, shall we?

There.

Oh no, I'm losing followers.

The French don't seem happy with me.

I suppose people do get touchy when you assassinate their allies.

Better ease off the Twaddler for a bit.

What else do kings do?

I know, I'll appoint a new Archbishop.

Let's have a look here.

There you go, that's how I rule, with strong knee-jerk decisions.

All right!

Ooh.

Message from the Pope.

Oh no, that is a lot of capital letters, he is not a happy man.

Either that, or he doesn't understand e-mail etiquette.

Bishop Jocelin. How you doing, My Lady?

Looking ravishing as ever.

Your Royal Highness, I keep telling you, I'm a man!

Oh, sorry, it's the name. I keep getting confused.

So, uh, what was it you wanted, darling? I mean, mate.

The Welsh are rebelling against you

and they have the support of the Pope.

Any idea why that might be?

Uh, no, sorry. Gotta go!

Busy man. Agh!

First the Irish, then the French, now the Pope and the Welsh.

Let's see what they're saying on Twaddler.

Oh, that's just mean! That's it,

I'm going to give them something to complain about.

I am raising their taxes.

Could do with a bit of cash for the army, all these rebellions

and everything.

Oh, it's The Barons.

Gentlemen, what do you think of my premiership so far then, eh?

Rubbish.

Come on, gents, it's not been boring,

-at least give me that.

-'We've drawn up a document,'

the Magna Carta,

we strongly advise you to sign it.

But...

Jocelin's e-mailing it to you now.

Her too?

Him too! I'm sorry but you've left us with no choice.

There, sent.

Whatever, if it keeps you happy.

Terms and conditions,

no-one reads those, do they?

Guys, what is this thing any way?

'It limits your powers as King,'

means we run the show now.

Cancel, cancel!

'And I'm awfully sorry

'but we've sent Prince Louis of France a Macebook invite,'

to invade!

An invasion?

Now what would a truly great king do in this situation?

East Anglia looks nice this time of year.

I'm going to make a run for it.

King John did go to East Anglia,

where he famously lost the Crown Jewels in The Wash.

Mm? No, no, no, not along with one of his socks!

The Wash is a large bay on the coast of East Anglia. Yeah.

The Crown Jewels were being carried on a horse drawn wagon,

which was too slow for the incoming tide, yeah.

John certainly was the King of Idiots.

I've got this loose tooth that needs to come out,

but I've always been so nervous when it comes to dentists.

Well, Mister Mori is exceptionally well respected.

He's even been consulted by a king.

Oh, a king, that's impressive. Which king?

Oh, um, upper or lower Nile, one of the pharaohs.

-What, you mean as in?

-Ancient Egypt.

I mean, dentists were extremely high status back then.

Ah, Mister Gum, I hope you know how lucky you are.

Where I come from, most people don't have access to dentistry,

they just have to wait for the rotten teeth to fall out themselves.

-Ah. Argh!

-Mm, uh, can I have some opium please, Mandy.

I find it really takes the edge off an even severe pain.

I'm afraid I had a bit of a problem with that.

I did try to order some, but the police said they'd throw me

into prison if I did, it's very, very illegal nowadays.

-Just a dead mouse, then, please, Mandy.

-Dead what?

Don't worry, Mister Gum, freshly caught today.

Oh, he's gone.

SQUEAKING

There he is! I'm going to get ya!

SQUEAKING

-You're not seriously putting that in my mouth, are you?

-Yes.

Applying a dead mouse to the affected tooth

is the ancient Egyptian painkiller.

-It must be something to do with the worms.

-What worms?

SQUEAKING

Uh, mouth worms.

We Egyptians believe that it's mouth worms that cause dental decay.

Anyway, say rah!

Rah!

Oh dear, dear, dear, have you been brushing regularly?

Absolutely.

Using a mix of eggshell and crushed ox's hooves?

Absolutely not.

Oh, honestly.

I don't know why we bother some days, Mandy.

-I know, shocking, isn't it?

-Oh, oh, oh!

There's no way I'm going to put a dead mouse in my mouth!

-Don't you have anything else?

-I suppose I could put

some of my anaesthetic paste on it.

-That sounds much better.

-Dental paste, please, Mandy.

Da da!

Thank you. Popping it in.

Mm.

Oh, what's it made out of?

Just incense and onions.

Ugh! My tooth.

Oh!

I caught it.

Well done, Mandy.

Well done me.

Yes, having good teeth was very important to

rich Ancient Egyptians and so was looking good.

'Is he, or isn't he?'

He can't be wearing Egyptian 2000, his hair looks so natural.

But he must be wearing Egyptian 2000,

he doesn't have a speck of grey.

-Why don't you ask him?

-You ask him.

No, I'm not asking him. You ask him.

You ask him.

'From now on, all you need to get rid of those grey hairs is

'Egyptian 2000, with its revolutionary new ingredient,

'putrid donkey liver.'

Excuse me, we, we were just wondering if...

Ugh, he's definitely wearing it!

Urgh, I can smell that putrid donkey liver from here!

'Egyptian 2000 BC.

'Chase that grey away,

'along with everything else with a sense of smell.'

'Warning, putrid donkey liver, like, proper stinks.'

In super polite Victorian society,

some words should simply not be mentioned.

Good day.

Mm, nothing like a fire to warm the old excuse me.

Ah, Cecily.

Father, Edward is here and he has something he wishes to ask you.

At last! Go ahead, sir, fire away.

Well, as you've probably guessed by now,

I have grown to admire your daughter deeply and she has led me

to believe that my admiration may not be entirely unwelcome.

Oh, for goodness sake, out with it.

You've waited long enough, just say what you have to say.

Yes, sir.

Uh, what I, what I mean to say is I would very much like to

ask for your, your, your bottom!

My what, sir?

Edward, please.

We do not use that word in this house.

Yes, sir, I do apologise,

it's just that the part of your body located at the top of your legs

My what, sir?

This is a proper Victorian household,

we dare not even say our tables have that word.

Indeed, then let us say that,

that which your ankles are at the bottom of...

Oh, my word, he said it again!

Is there no end to this stream of filth?

Look, that which resides within your trousers...

My what, sir?

We call them the southern necessity and I feel it is only fair to

tell you I'm getting rather hot under the collar.

And I am most surprised you are not getting hot elsewhere.

Edward, really!

My word, you have a cheek.

So do you, sir, and it is on fire!

Oh, my trousers are burning! My legs are on fire!

My bottom!

Father, such language!

Honestly, potty mouth.

-Edward!

-Sorry, darling.

It's true!

Some well-to-do Victorians thought words like "leg" and "bottom",

"trousers" and "ankle", were rude

and shouldn't be said in polite society.

We rats also take a dim view of certain words.

I'll tell you one, if you promise not to repeat it.

Soap.

So, anyway, that was rich Victorian society,

here's how the other half lived.

As you can see, it's a, uh, very popular area.

SQUELCH!

In a colourful part of town.

Is that a dead dog?

Oh, I think it's just sleeping, babe. Shall we?

Here we are. Number thu thu thu...

-Uh, where's the...

-Yeah, it's a bit stiff.

But there's...

"Creak". After you.

Oh. Ugh!

As you can see, it has all the charm and convenience

of a modern Victorian home slash slum.

It's a minimal look.

No bed, no curtains, no furniture to clutter up the place.

No need to worry on dustbin day, just chuck

your litter out onto the street and let your children play on it.

Any questions?

Where's the front door?

The front door has been conveniently

situated in this attractive, original Victorian fireplace.

It's on the fire?

Perfect for the harsh winters we've been having.

No wonder it's cold, there ain't no glass in the windows.

But think of the amount of money we'll save on

window cleaners, babe.

And most of our tenants have been upgrading their homes by, um,

selling the glass to pay for food.

When will the current tenants be moving out?

Moving out? Oh no, sir, no, these are exclusive to the property.

-You all right, John?

-Yeah.

-They're going to live here as well?

-That's why it's such good value.

-Yeah, it is good value.

We provide you with your very own slum mates, yeah,

so you'll never be alone again, no.

Not with uh, one, two, uh, ten people in one room.

-There's barely room to swing a cat!

-But we don't have a cat, babe.

Which is a shame, because this accommodation provides

unlimited cat food.

Argh! Rats.

Yeah, cats love rats.

-Ooh, and there's raw sewage.

-And it's en suite.

I'm sorry, I can't live here. You must have some better accommodation.

We do have something that's just become available.

A whole house all to yourself, your own front door, glass in the window.

-Oh, that's sounds wonderful.

-When can we move in?

Once they clear the bodies.

You see, there's been a tiny cholera epidemic.

We'll take this one. Yeah. Lovely!

No need to exchange keys. I'll be on my way. Good luck.

-Hope it doesn't collapse on you.

-What was that?

Um, nothing actually. Bye!

CREAKING

# Tall tales, atrocious acts

# We gave you all the fearsome facts... #

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