Episode 10 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

# Roman 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 #

Hi, I'm a shouty man and I'm here to tell you

about all new Roman Baths.

After a hard day watching your slave do all the work,

why not de-stress in a range of temperature-controlled baths?

This room is freezing.

It's supposed to be. It's called the frigidarium.

Now, this room is boiling.

Of course it is, this is the steam room or caldarium.

-Where's the nice temperature area?

-You mean tepidarium.

-Yeah, that one.

-Not telling you.

-Oh, you're starting to get annoying now, mate.

-I get that a lot.

Or you can relax in the library.

-Sh!

-(Or you can relax in the library.)

And there's a state of the art security system

to make sure your clothes aren't stolen.

It's a slave.

I didn't have enough change for the slave, someone's nicked my toga.

Well, at least the library's useful for something.

-Oh, oh.

-Whether you're meeting your friends,

meeting for business or just doing your business.

-Tell me you're not?

-I most certainly am. Ah.

The Roman baths is the place to come and just look at the results.

Before... Slightly dirty.

After... Covered in blood, excrement, pus and wee.

-I'm covered in what?

-So, come to the Roman baths today.

And when I say today, I mean this morning.

The water isn't changed all day.

So, by the afternoon, it's disgustingly dirty.

And don't miss your chance to get 25% off.

Just take a Roman bath with an open wound on your leg,

catch gangrene from the dirty water and get 25% off.

Yes, get your leg chopped off to prevent the gangrene from spreading.

You can find it all in new Roman baths.

Yeah I've just been for a Roman bath, now I need a good wash.

Get away from me, Marco!

Did you know - Romans didn't use soap?

Hm, something we have in common.

Instead they used to clean themselves with olive oil,

which they'd scrape off with a small metal tool called a stridgel.

Hm, the Romans were a really advanced society,

but they were surprisingly superstitious.

# Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

# They're funny cos they're true

# Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

# Hope next time it's not you #

No, a pine nut. Very nice in salads.

Next!

I said, "Next! Anybody there?"

Come on, we haven't got for ever.

Well, we have actually but that's not the point. Oh, there you are!

Look, we can see you, mate. You may as well come on out.

There's nobody to fear here.

It's just me, Death, and a couple of skeletons.

Sorry about that, I'm just a bit paranoid

about people trying to kill me.

Well, I've got some good news for you, mate.

Your worries are over, you're already dead, otherwise you wouldn't be here.

-Oh, yeah.

-So, who are you anyway?

Oh, oh, Domitian, Roman Emperor Domitian.

And you're paranoid someone wants to kill you, yeah?

Who told you that?

You did just then.

Oh yeah, I suppose I did, yeah.

Yeah, I am. I had all of the marble in my palace cleaned

so shiny it was like a mirror, so I could see any strangers approaching.

-Watch out, behind you!

-Oh!

I'm messing with you, mate, I do that sometimes.

So, what made you so paranoid?

When I was younger, soothsayers foretold the exact year,

day and hour when I would die.

Hey, I'm a fortune teller too.

I predict that this death is going to be stupid.

Yes, very good.

As you can imagine, when the predicted day came

-I was like, super duper paranoid.

-As you would be.

It was foretold that I would be killed at midday,

so I spent the whole morning in dread

until my attendants came and told me that 12 o'clock had long passed.

The soothsayer was wrong. So, much relieved, I went for a bath and...

Oh, and er, you were scalded to death, erm, drowned in the bath,

in the toilets, slipped on the soap, er, swallowed a loofah?

No, no, I was killed by an assassin.

-But I thought it was long gone midday?

-So did I.

It turns out my attendants had lied about the time.

The soothsayers were right. I was killed at 12 on the dot.

You... They lied to you.

LAUGHS What time did you think it was?

-12 hurty?

-Well, around then, yeah.

Not 12:30. Hurty. 12 hurty. LAUGHS

You're through to the afterlife.

-Thanks very much.

-Assassin!

Ah! I'm messing with you, mate.

-Quite a joker.

-You're already dead. Chillax, man.

Ooh, sometimes I love my job, I do though, I really do.

# Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

# Hope next time it's not you. Hoo hoo #

Factory bosses in Victorian times could be very mean,

and working conditions were appalling.

But it wasn't all bad.

A few employers actually wanted to improve the lives of their workers.

Jolly good!

In this week's episode of Victorian Undercover Proprietor...

Sir Titus Salt has gone into the mills where he made his fortune.

He's disguised as one of the workers,

to see what life is really like for his employees.

So, what's it like to work in my... This factory?

-Noisy.

-Sorry, I can't hear you, it's too noisy.

No, no, it's noisy.

-It's smoggy too, it gets into the lungs.

-Sorry?

HE COUGHS

I see, the smog gets into your lungs.

No, it gets into the lungs.

-What?

-What?

Titus has finally got the message about the terrible conditions

his employees work in,

and their living conditions aren't much better.

Wife, kids, here's the new bloke I was telling you about.

Pleased to meet you. Could I possibly use your lavatory?

-Our what-atory?

-Lavatory.

A small room outside you use to, er, do your business.

-Your business?

-No, it's not my business. I'm just a humble worker.

Oh, you said, er, do your business?

Yes, er, toilet. Er, small room you use to poo in.

ALL: Urgh.

Disgusting, just go in the back yard like everybody else.

OK.

Oh, will you not stay for your tea?

I'd love to. What is for tea?

I think it's... Nothing tonight. We can't afford it.

Luckily, we're not that hungry because all the cotton fluff

from the mill gets in our bellies.

-HE COUGHS

-I wish you wouldn't do that.

-I am sorry.

-Not wanting to spend any longer living with them

than he absolutely has to, Titus has decided

it's time to reveal his true identity to the hovel family.

I expect you're wondering why I brought you here.

I'm not a humble mill worker. I am, in fact,

the owner of these here mills - Sir Titus Salt.

-No!

-I knew it.

I knew that were a disguise, as soon as I saw the daft, fake beard.

-Ow!

-So sorry.

-It's all right.

Over this past week, well, day, I've experienced first hand

the hardships of working in one of my mills.

I've seen how tough it is for you to live in such

a horrible, dirty, filthy, cramped, disgusting little hovel.

-Steady on.

-So, I'm going to build a new village.

And I'm going to call it Saltaire.

And it'll be a model village.

-We'll never fit in it.

-Not that sort of model village!

It'll be the model of all a village should be,

everything you could possibly want will be there -

fresh air, a hospital, a church.

-Even a reading room.

-We can't read.

Aye, but your children will be able to.

For there will be a school there.

-Oh!

-And you'll even have your own lavatory.

Why would anyone want a small room to poo in?

And I shall build a new cleaner mill nearby where you can work for me.

I'm not being funny, but what's in it for you?

Well, happy and healthy people make better workers.

-You've got yourself a deal.

-All right.

-Just one question.

-Fire away, my friend.

-Are you sure that's not a fake beard?

-Don't push it.

Next week on Victorian Undercover Proprietor, Lord Lever reveals

his plans to build his factory workers houses

which have bathrooms.

-What's a bathroom?

-It's a small room with a bath in it.

What's a bath?

It's where you wash yourself with soap.

What's soap?

This is going to be harder than I thought.

A number of Victorian bosses, er, Sir Titus Salt,

the Lever Brothers, Joseph Rowntree, and George Cadbury,

created cleaner, better accommodation

for their factory employees.

But did any of them spare a thought

for how this would affect the factory rats?

Not one, it's an absolute scandal.

-Report, Corporal.

-The battle is fierce, sir.

We've lost 1,000 men.

1,001. But then so have the enemy, so it's pretty much even Steven.

Then we fight on to victory.

-To victory!

-We will never give up.

-Never give up.

-With one final push, we will reclaim our bucket.

Reclaim our...

Sorry, it sounded like you said reclaim our bucket.

-Yes, reclaim our bucket.

-Right, what bucket?

Well, a couple of guys from Modena stole our town's bucket.

To get it back, the Pope has insisted we launch a full scale war.

-Over a bucket?

-It's a ceremonial bucket.

I don't care if it's a magic bucket.

-We've lost 1,000 men.

-1,001.

Sorry, mate, 1,001.

I thought this was a Holy War, church against Empire,

not some squabble over a bucket.

Captain Liza, any luck?

No sign of the bucket, sir.

But I did find this cup.

Oh, Liza, I told you it has to be the bucket.

Well, what does it look like?

Well, it's about so big, erm, made of solid oak, it's got an opening...

Well, it looks like a bucket!

Can't we just buy a new one?

No, this bucket is a symbol of Bologna's civic pride,

and we cannot allow those dogs from Modena to take it from us.

That is why the Pope has commanded we get out there and get it back.

So, get out there and get it back.

As you command.

And, Liza, make sure you don't damage it.

I don't want a hole in my bucket, dear Liza.

HE LAUGHS

OK, right, on my command then. Charge!

Charge!

Argh!

It looks like he kicked the bucket.

Too soon?

Fancy going to war over a bucket.

This next lot were fighting over the Crown of England.

Yes, when Henry I died, his daughter, Matilda,

wanted to be queen, but her cousin, Stephen, had other ideas.

Let battle commence.

# Here's the tale of me, Matilda

# And my fight with cousin Stephen

# To succeed Henry I's throne

# My wife's also called Matilda

# Quite confusing because we choose to claim Matilda's throne's our own

# I'm Henry, that Matilda's son

# You got that? Here's the story of our spat

# Starts in 1135 When King Henry - my father - died

# And I think you'll find named me

# Matilda as his heir

# But his nephew Stephen said

# That crown should be upon my head

# I'm a man and men come first

# What? It's only fair

# Had married Geoffrey of Anjou Stuck in France, not Waterloo

# When Steve, without a voulez-vous

# Took throne from me

# Should be Dancing Queen

# Oh, stop causing such a scene

# Gimme gimme crown and take a chance on me

# I'm heir to the throne, not you

# Aha

# Think you'll get it back, now that I'd like to see

# Oh, I do, I do, I do

# Fought in Lincoln

# She caught me

# Was proclaimed first English Lady

# But she made many enemies

# Remember me? I'm Stephen's wife

# Made Royal counsellors agree

# That she lacked femininity

# Took Stephen's army and besieged her

# Ugh, more strife

# I was trapped, so faked my death

# Hid in coffin, held my breath Escaped

# You think that I'm impressed?

# Well, I'm not

# Just look who I've got

Your half brother, want to swap?

# Gimme gimme hubbie

# And we'll fight again

# The winner takes it all

# Aha

# In Oxford I'll besiege

# And I'll escape and then

# I'll join the battle call

# Age 14, I fought but lost

# So Uncle Stephen stayed as boss

# Who should be ruler, mamma?

# Me-a!

# Here we go again

# Sadly my darling Matilda

# Caught a fever and it killed her

# I gave up my dream to build a Royal dynasty

# When my son died

# Had no heir, which was a bind

# Gimme gimme crown Cos next in line it's me

# You can have it when I'm done

# Aha

# So Empress Matilda never did make queen

# The throne went to my son

# Knowing Mum, knowing you

# Everybody happy? Good #

The Georgian era saw a revolution in industry.

You might call it an Industrial Revolution.

Why make textiles by hand

when you can invent a machine to make them for you?

Morning.

-Morning, Lord Sugar.

-Hi.

This week's task was all about making dosh,

which is all our tasks are about, so I'll be more specific, Karren.

I asked you to made dosh from textiles.

So, what's the name of your team, Karren?

Yes, that's right.

No, what's the name?

Indeed it is.

No, what is it called?

It's what.

I asked first.

No, as in Team Watt,

as in James Watt the Scottish inventor and engineer.

That's my name, don't wear it out.

Well, don't I look stupid.

-Aye.

-No, I don't.

You're the one that looks stupid cos you got a stupid name.

Nick, please tell me your team's got a more sensible name?

Team Jenny.

Oh, that's much better.

So I'm guessing you're Jenny?

No, I'm Mary. The jenny refers to our spinning jenny.

-What?!

-Aye?

Sorry, can I get a rewind, is it me or is she talking nonsense?

The spinning jenny is a machine, Lord Sugar,

a multi-spool spinning frame.

Is it me, or is he talking nonsense?

Basically, erm, it's a fancy machine we've just bought

which enables me to make more yarn in less time than ever before.

I then take Mary's yarn and turn it into fabric on my hand loom

and our little family business is making more fabric than ever before.

Point of fact, Lord Sugar,

with the help of the spinning jenny, this family has massively increased

its weekly textile production to a whopping three kilos.

Three kilos, that's impressive.

What have you got to say about that, Watt?

The spinning jenny is all well and good up to a point,

but there's a limit to what you can do without more power.

That's where I come in.

You heat water, create steam which makes pressure.

Now, I've perfected an engine

to harness that power to drive machines.

It's called the Watt Steam Engine, named after my good self.

You, sir, have a massive ego.

Correct.

-You're going to go far.

-Thank you.

What's your story, handsome?

I own a textile factory, Lord Sugar.

We use Watt's steam engine to power bigger, faster machines called

spinning mules, to make the yarn,

and power looms to weave the material.

My factory is making even more fabric than ever before actually.

It's true, Lord Sugar.

With the help of the Watt steam engine,

the factory business has produced 300 kilos of textiles,

that's a staggering 100 times as much as the other team.

So what have you got to say about that then, Team Mary?

-Team Jenny.

-What?

-Aye?

Ours is a family business, we lovingly craft our textiles.

These factories are just wrong, my wife and I

will have nothing to do with them. Isn't that right...?

Mind if I come and work for you?

Welcome on board, bump the fist. Boom.

Sorry, love, you can't stop progress.

Oh dear, oh dear. So, what's left of Team Jenny...

Beep, beep, beep, uh-oh! You're fired.

-What?

-Aye?

-What?

-What?

Aye, no. What?

A stink trap is a bend in the toilet pipe

that stops smells coming up through the drains.

It was a clever idea. But not all Georgians were quite so sensible.

Check out this politician.

Do you think something needs to be done about

the appalling levels of poverty in Britain today?

Do you worry about healthcare and hospitals and whatnot?

Do you think poor people should be educated

to give them a better chance in life?

No, neither do I.

My name's Mad Jack Mytton,

and I want you to elect me MP for Shrewsbury,

so I can ride expensive racehorses out of windows.

Baaaaargh! Nnn...

If you vote for me, I guarantee I will go naked duck hunting at night.

IMITATES DUCK

But why else should you vote for me?

Well, I'm just an ordinary guy, like you.

And, yes, I set myself on fire when I've got the hiccups. Who doesn't?

Worth a try, and like you, I also enjoy riding bears.

Giddy up.

So if you want someone honest,

someone with integrity and someone connected with real people,

then vote for someone else.

Don't care. Work's boring.

Vote for who you like, it won't make any difference,

I own the seat and I'm going to fix the result anyway.

Arrrrrgh.

My name's Mad Jack Mytton,

and I will be MP for Shrewsbury whether you like it or not.

Saddle the bear. I'm leaving.

Hello, and welcome to the News at When.

When? 1911, when most of Britain seemed to be on strike,

including the miners, the dockers and the Transport Union.

We sent our reporter, Jennifer Townsend,

to investigate one of the more unusual strikes.

Sorry I'm late, the train was delayed,

obviously because the transport workers are on strike.

-Now I've got to find the strike leader.

-Hello.

Clear off, sonny, I need to find the strike leader.

Us schoolboys are on strike as well. What do we want?

Shorter school days!

When do we want them?

Monday to Friday, ideally.

So your school's come out on strike?

Not just our school,

schoolboys are striking in 60 cities around the country.

We figure if everybody else is striking

for better working conditions, we should as well.

I see. I've heard that you want better school hours.

What are your other demands?

What do we want?

More holidays!

When do we want them?

Somewhere sunny would be nice.

We also want to talk about the school leaving age.

It seems all your demands

are about spending less time at school working.

Isn't that what everybody wants?

No. You haven't heard our main demands yet.

Two, four, eight, six, we want more mathematics.

-Shush!

-Sorry.

That one's just his demand. This is the main one.

Two, four, six, eight, no more caning would be great.

We've had enough of being beaten.

Well, we're not taking any more, we're making a stand.

Griffiths, you've made your point.

Now get back to school or there'll be serious trouble.

And that goes for the rest of you as well. Come on.

Write out 100 times, "I must not strike."

This is Jennifer Townsend reporting for HH TV News,

demanding better pay and shorter hours.

See me afterwards, Townsend.

What do I want? More rotten food. When do I want it? Now.

Yes, the first schoolboy strike was in Llanelli in Wales.

It didn't last very long,

but set off copycat school strikes all round Britain.

Yeah, they loved a good protest in the early 1900s.

May I help you?

Er, 10 Downing Street?

Er, yeah.

Delivery for Prime Minister Asquith.

Prime Minister Asquith.

So what have you got for the PM?

Er, just these two packages.

Let me guess, it's a couple of suffragettes

trying to pull another publicity stunt.

No, we're not.

Votes for women, votes for women,

votes for women!

I thought so.

Suffragettes. I should have you both locked up.

Well, you can't.

It's perfectly legal to have oneself posted via Royal Mail, isn't it?

Yeah, only my poor back's got issue with it.

You see, perfectly legal.

Anyway, we needed to engineer a meeting with the PM somehow

in order to speak to him about getting the law changed

so that women have the right to vote.

Votes for women.

Votes for women, votes for women,

votes for women!

If you want a meeting with the Prime Minister,

you have to apply through the correct channels.

What, so he can refuse to see us?

Of course. You're women.

What would be the point in the Prime Minister keeping you happy?

Can't get him re-elected, you haven't got the right to vote.

Well, that's the whole point.

Votes for women.

Votes for women, votes for women, votes for women!

Actually, you know what, you are going to get the law changed.

Seriously?

We're going to make it illegal to send people in the mail.

Ugh!

Oh!

Ugh!

Postie, return to sender, please.

Oh, well, it was worth a try.

Votes for women, votes for...

-Ouch, ouch!

-Ow!

I'm a villain.

I'm a vagrant.

And I used to be a pickpocket.

Until they caught him and chopped his hands off.

Bring that up, why don't you?

And this is Real Tudor Hustle,

the show where real Tudor criminals show you real Tudor scams.

-What you doing?

-What you doing?

Supposed to be my mate.

'This fopdoodle thinks she's bought herself a nice plump chicken.'

Nice and plump cos I sewed its bottom up, so now it's full of poo.

Fit to eat? It's fit to burst!

Oi!

These cod's heads make it all too easy

when we pull this classic Tudor scam.

Erm, ladies and gentleman, there are pickpockets operating in the area,

so could you all check your valuables, please. All right.

'Now the thieves know exactly where everyone's keeping their valuables.'

A strange woman calls at your house

and says she's friends with the Fairy Queen. Sounds too good to be true.

It is.

'This is Judith Doll Phillips, a notorious Tudor con artist,

'and she's about to call on her next victim.'

Hello, I'm a friend of the Fairy Queen.

Oh. Well, I suppose you'd better come in then.

'Having easily talked her way into the house,

'next, Judith has a proposition.'

Oh, now, I'm sensing there is gold in the house?

Yes, yes, there is, I've got lots of gold things.

Yes, but I'm sensing there is secret gold,

there is gold here that you don't know about.

Oh!

Now, I could find it for you,

but I'll need you to go and get all the gold that you do know about

and put it in a pile on the floor. OK?

Just go and sit over there and close your eyes, all right?

OK.

DOOR CLOSES

Can I open them yet?

So remember, with no law keepers around,

you've got to keep your glaziers open,

cos if someone's trying to sell you a chicken and they've got a big "F"

on their forehead, it probably don't stand for free range.

Isn't that right, me old... What are you doing?

-What are you doing?

-No, no, no!

Crime was rife in Tudor times.

There were even criminal training schools

where you could be taught how to be a pickpocket.

Hey, imagine that, a school for criminals.

You'd get in trouble for not being naughty!

Anyway, if you were caught committing a crime,

the Tudor authorities really left their mark.

KNOCK AT DOOR Come.

And you are?

Edward Doit.

Edward, you do realise that the job that you're applying for,

Steward to Lord Buckingham, is a very responsible one,

one that requires complete trust?

Well, you're all right there, then, cos I am completely trustworthy.

You're in no way a liar?

No. What makes you think that?

The "P" on your face.

Oh! Well, actually, it's just a birthmark.

I see. It's just having a "P" branded on your forehead

is a well-known Tudor punishment for being a perjurer.

Somebody who lied in court.

Right.

Well, you're all right, cos as I say, it's just a birthmark.

It's just, it looks very much like a scar left by a branding iron

on the forehead of a liar.

No, I admit, it was caused by a branding iron.

Well, Edward, I'm afraid we can't...

But I'm not a perjurer. And I'm not a liar, absolutely not.

No, I used to work for a blacksmith and he was working on some perjurers

one day, and I pulled the branding iron out of the fire and I slipped.

Do you really expect me to believe that you accidentally

branded yourself in the middle of the forehead?

OK, no, that's fine, both my hands are up.

It wasn't an accident.

OK? But the "P" doesn't stand for perjurer.

It, erm, it stands for...

Perfect employee.

OK, Edward, both hands up, get out.

OK.

KNOCK AT DOOR Come.

I'm sorry, I thought we'd been through all this.

No, no, no, you are confusing me with my twin brother.

He has a "P" on his head for perjurer,

and I have a "B" on my head for...

Brilliant.

Well, you're exactly the type of person we're looking for.

Congratulations, you've got the job.

Sweet! I mean, sweet...

as an nut.

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

# The ugly truth, no glam or glitz...

Can't get enough of Horrible Histories?

Then go to the CBBC website and click on the link.

See you there.

# The past is no longer a mystery

# Hope you enjoyed Horrible Histories. #