Original subtitles

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.

We Romans really could be rotten.

And there's nothing we liked more than being horrible to Christians.

Hello! Welcome to I'm A Christian, Get Me Out Of Here!

So far, Rome has seen Christians stoned to death, beheaded,

crucified, mauled by boar, bear and leopard and eaten by lions.

That's what I call Roman entertainment.

I can hardly wait to find out what happens to today's prisoners.

Hey, you Christians.

We've got some really horrible tortures for you today.

But remember, all you have to do if you want to be freed is shout,

I'm A Christian, Get Me Out Of Here!

And you also have to say that our Roman gods

are better than your one Christian God.

- Does any of youse want to say that? - No.

We wont reject our religion.

Brilliant! I hate it when they give in. No gory stuff.

Let's find out who's first up.

Blandina, love. I can tell you...

..that the next Christian to face a trial

is not... not... not... not you,

so it is you! I love doing that.

- That's cruel. - I know.

It's not as cruel as your trial,

which will place you in a huge catapult

and fling you high above the city.

- Don't worry, you might survive. - Good.

If you do, a Roman soldier will finish you off with his sword.

- That's not fair. - I know! Off you go, pet. Come on, get out.

After the break, we'll put our next Christian prisoner in this barrel

and roll him down a hill.

- That doesn't sound too bad. - Whoops! Did I forget to mention the spikes?

'I'm a Christian, Get Me Out Of Here!'

A bit late for that one, Blandina.

Kids, being a Christian in Rome can seriously damage your health.

Emperor Nero was particularly nasty to Christians.

Not surprising when you hear how he treated people

he was supposed to care about.

I now pronounce you Emperor and wife.

Emperor Nero, you may kiss the bride.

You lucky, lucky thing.

'He was the man who had everything.

- 'Land.' - I love you.

- 'Power.' - Hail me.

'Grapes. A lot of grapes.

'And the woman of his dreams.'

- I love you. - I don't blame you.

'Then, possibly while shopping for grapes...'

I'm not paying. My empire, my rules.

'..He met the woman of his dreams.

- 'Yes, another one.' - Who is that?

- D'you wanna go out with me? - Won't your wife mind?

I shouldn't think so. D'you mind?

Yes, I mind!

Hm. You can never second-guess these things.

'Nero was prepared to do anything to be with the woman he loved.

'No, no. The other one.

'Yeah, yeah. That one there.'

I need a sign! Something to show you love me now, not her!

Something more than grapes? Because I've got loads of grapes.

Yes, something more than grapes!

Right. Er...

'This summer, one emperor will prove that love is a gift.'

Darling, it's just what I wanted!

Your wife's severed head in a basket.

'Coming soon, the film that puts the Roman in Romantic comedy.'

- You would never sever my head and put it in a basket, would you? - No!

- I'll have you kicked to death. - What? - Nothing.

'Love You To Death.

'Based on a true story. Rated Unreasonable.'

It's horrible, but it's true.

Emperor Nero had his wife's head cut off and sent to his new girlfriend.

The next Valentine's Day, you may want to stick to flowers.

Nero wasn't nasty to everyone.

He was nice to his favourite gladiator, Spiculus.

'In this week's Ave! magazine -

'an exclusive interview with the most famous sportsman in Rome,

'Spiculus the Gladiator!'

My name's Tiberius Claudius Spiculus. You can call me Spics.

I used to be a slave. I fought so well in the arena, I won my freedom.

And Emperor Nero likes me so much, he's given me my own palace.

'Read how Nero made his favourite gladiator

'head of his personal-protection force.'

Only problem is, I'm now so famous,

I can't go anywhere without being stopped for pictures.

Over here, Spiculus! Nice!

'And we've got the pictures the gladiators didn't want you to see.

'Have you never heard of a Roman bath?

'Our soothsayer predicts the future

'by reading the entrails of a chicken.'

I can safely say it's going to be a bad week. .. for this chicken.

'Yes. All the goss, all the pics, all the Roman rumours,

'only in this week's Ave! magazine.'

I can safely predict you're going to buy it.

'Only XCIX denarii.'

Some of our Middle Ages medical cures would seem pretty strange nowadays.

Paul? Paul, can you hear me?

Don't worry. The ambulance is on its way.

- Make way! - Make way! - Make way!

- From the hospital? - No, Middle Ages. - What's happened?

It's my husband. He went all dizzy and passed out.

- What be his name? - Paul. - Paul, hear ye! Hear ye, Paul!

- Can you hear me, Paul? - He's fainted. I need a dead chicken.

What on earth is that going to do?

- Nothing. It's dead. - It's not the chicken we need, it's the feathers.

We just burn the ends of them. This should bring him round.

- It's not working. - Had he shown any other symptoms?

He hasn't been sleeping too well.

Sleeplessness? Nigel, treacle.

- Yes, honey? - Get the treacle.

Don't worry. Treacle is our latest cure for sleeplessness.

Hang on. What are those markings?

Could be bruising from the fall. I'll cut the flour and bacon fat.

- What? - Hang on. They're blotchy.

Skin disease. No! I'm all out of wolf skin.

Where be a wolf? Where be a wolf?!

- This might work. - It looks like ringworm. - I concur.

There's one thing for it. Man-child, do you want to be a gallant hero?

Wee on his head! Nothing cures ringworm like a boy's-wee hair wash.

He's not weeing on my husband's head! You're not weeing on him!

I always carry a fresh jar of boy's urine just in case.

- Paul! - I'm OK. I do need a shower, though.

- Our work here is done. - Do you mind filling this while we're here?

Stop it. Don't...!

SIREN WAILS It sounds like a proper ambulance.

- We must flee this place! - Make haste!

Ian? Bring the cleanup kit.

Those historical ones have been here.

'Those were all real treatments.

'They actually believed it would work.

'But back then, they believed some very weird things.'

Greetings, horror hounds.

I am Vincenzo Larfoff.

And this week's scary story is from the Middle Ages.

It's called, The Children of Woolpit.

It was 1173.

An especially eerie yearie.

When the small village of Woolpit in the county of Suffolk

was invaded by creatures from another world.

- EERIE INSTRUMENTAL - Indeed.

One day, two aliens appeared in the village.

These aliens had taken the form of two children - a boy and a girl.

But their skin was bright green

and they spoke in a strange alien language.

HE SPEAKS GIBBERISH

Or something.

Yes, the villagers of Woolpit were terrified.

These green-skinned aliens demanded to be fed.

But what they ate was truly chilling.

Something no real human child would eat without being forced.

Yes! Vegetables!

And then, quite without warning, the boy alien dropped down dead.

SCREAM / THUD!

And the girl alien? That's the strangest part of all.

She became a part-time domestic servant.

A-hem! It turned out that these children

were not from Mars or Venus.

They were from... Belgium!

They were orphans, the children of Belgian cloth makers?

Their skin was green because of the dye the parents used on the cloth.

They'd lived in the woods so long, they only recognised vegetation.

The boy died of malnutrition, the girl grew up

and went to work for a local knight?

This is not a scary story, is it?

It's a boring story with a weird beginning.

That isn't the same thing. Why am I here?

I grew a goatee for this. It's unbelievable.

I'm going to my dressing room. There had better be doughnuts.

Ancient Greece was divided into different city states.

The people of Athens thought us Spartans were pretty brutal.

But some of the things they did were just as bad.

Come on, Adelphus, you're gonna be late for school again!

- Now, have you got everything? - Yes. - Have you got your stylus?

- Your wax tablet? - Yep. - Your pitta bread for lunch?

- Haven't you forgotten something? - Um,... no.

Your slave! Slave?

Oh, Dad, do I have to take him?

Yes. I bought him especially to beat you when you misbehave in class.

- Oh! - All the other kids have got one.

- Ha! - Shut it, you!

- Ow! - He's only doing his job.

- Now, Athena, have you got everything you need for school? - Eh?

Ha! Sorry. I'm only joking.

Like I'm gonna send a girl to school. It's pointless!

Pfft! Ow!

Oh, you are good! Oh! Actually, he's got maths this afternoon.

You might need the big stick. You know what he's like.

Go on, then, get off to school!

Kids! You can't beat 'em. So to speak.

It's true. In the Ancient Greek city of Athens,

boys took a slave to school with them

to make sure they were behaving in class.

I have no idea how they fitted the slave in their satchel, though.

Ow! Alright, I'll behave!

Mind you, if you think Athens sounds bad,

you wouldn't have wanted to go to school in Sparta.

Hey! All you Helots, you Zealots,

you Peloponnesians, you Lacedaemons,

all of Leonidas' army, let's get barmy

for the Spartan School Musical!

ALL: Go, Spartan!

UPBEAT INSTRUMENTAL

Whoo!

Come on!

Today I'm starting high school where boys are turned to men

I've packed my sword and shield We don't use paper and pen

- Everyone's a jock here - We don't have Spartan nerds

The weedy kids were left to die as breakfast for the birds

We're taught to love a fight We're taught not to be meek

And if we're good, they feed us three square meals every week

Let's go fighting Now, fighting is exciting

Now, rocking at the Spartan School

- Come on! - Whoo!

At Spartan kindergarten I'm the boss that's understood

I smack 'em if they're naughty I thwack 'em if they're good

I'm feeling rather peckish I'm gonna steal some food

I'll have to punish you ungrateful Spartan brood

We promise not to steal We're not the thieving sort

Stealing is considered good what's wrong is getting caught

Let's get beatin' now learn lies and cheatin' now

Rollin' at the Spartan School

We have a bunch of contests to see who is the best

The meanest, meanest toughest, roughest Spartan contest

This one is my favourite game lashings of good fun

Didn't feel a thing! I want my mum.

We pass our last exam then it's Spartan graduation

Straightaway we go to work no time for celebration

Ten years' active service in the army, no diversion

There's only one job for a Spartan Killing loads of Persians

Wondering about love? It's banned until you're 30

High school doesn't teach romance it teaches fighting dirty

Let's go fightin' now Fightin' is exciting now

Rockin' at the Spartan School

Let's get beatin' now learn lies and cheatin' now

Rollin' at the Spartan School.

We Tudors were all terrified of Henry VIII.

No-one wanted to give him bad news.

In fact, there was only one person who could get away with it.

- Sir Nicholas? - What news?

The rumours are true, I'm afraid.

It would seem the Queen is seeing other men behind the King's back.

Then it is as we feared. We should inform His Majesty.

Yes, of course. But you know how his moods are.

Yes. He does tend to behead the messenger.

- Indeed. - Then there is only one man for the job.

Only one man who could break such terrible news

to His Majesty, King Henry VIII.

- You don't mean...? - Yes.

- BOTH: Will Somers. - You called?

Bum-bum-bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum, bum-bum! Pfft!

Stonk! Hoo-hee! Hoo-hee! Blblblblblb!

Ho-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-onk!

So, what seems to be the problem, gentlemen?

- Catherine Howard. - Another man?

- Several. - Oh, dear. That is a pickle. - Yes.

We need to tell the King so he can arrange a divorce or a beheading.

And you are his favourite jester. Who better to break the bad news?

This is true. But how?

This is obviously hugely important, so what do we think?

Shall I do it as a joke? Or a song?

Or shall I blurt it out while I'm doing the juggling?

- You're the expert. - Yes. I am good at this.

I shall use tact, diplomacy

and one of these.

Pffffffffffft!

Stand aside, gentlemen.

Bom-boom, bom-boom, bom.

- Squeak-squeak, h-o-o-onk! - No.

Not today, Will. I'm not in the right mood.

You seem to be in a right mood to me.

WILL LAUGHS

HENRY VIII LAUGHS

Stop it. I need a wee.

Would that be the royal wee? A-kabunsss!

HE LAUGHS No, seriously. I will wet my breeches.

Don't get any on the seat, or you'll have to be throne out!

BOTH LAUGH

Oh, no. Oh, no! There's a couple of drips right there.

I wouldn't worry about it. There's been a few drips on that throne!

HENRY VIII LAUGHS

Yes, drips. Hasn't there just!

More than a few, I should think.

HE LAUGHS Almost as many as your wife has boyfriends.

HE LAUGHS

She's had a few then, has she?

Yeah, loads of them. Good day, sire.

HE LAUGHS Very good. Look at you!

You...! HE LAUGHS

Well? How did he take it?

It's too early to say.

Should sink in in about three, two, one...

- WHAT?! - There it is.

Nicholas, fetch me my executioner!

At once, sire!

Oh. And a clean pair of pants, please.

Being Henry's jester was a dangerous job,

but not as dangerous as being this Tudor entertainer.

INSTRUMENTAL

Stupid deaths, stupid deaths They're funny cos they're true

Stupid deaths, stupid deaths Hope next time it's not you.

She shouldn't have worn that dress. She had no chance. Next!

- And you are...? - A Tudor performer and entertainer.

Ooo! Well, why not entertain us, eh?

How did you die?

Well, I was famous for my amazing act -

- the great stab-proof man! - Ooo!

I would stand before a live audience

and plunge a dagger into my own chest

and yet, not die.

Hm. Well, how come?

I wore a cleverly-hidden stab-proof vest

so the knife never even touched me.

But it did puncture a concealed bag of animal blood,

giving the impression that I was bleeding.

Very clever! So, how did you die for real?

Well, it was all going perfectly.

The crowd were cheering, the money was pouring in

and I raised my dagger aloft and plunged it into my chest.

- Yes. And, and...? - I'd forgotten to put on my stab-proof vest.

I stabbed myself in the heart and I died.

HE LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY

Shame the vest wasn't idiot-proof!

I'll just confer with the judges.

Mm-hm. A-huh.

Mm-hm. Oh, shut up, Louis!

That's two yeses. You're through to the afterlife. Well done.

Thank you. Thank you so.

Very good, wasn't he? He was good.

Sometimes I love this job. I... I do, Louis. I do.

Stupid deaths, stupid deaths Hope next time it's not you.

Whoo-hoo!

- Kill! - The time has come for your first hunting trip.

- BOTH: Yes! - Get in!

We have all been blessed by the sacred hag.

Oi! Less of the hag. It's Mummy to you.

- We've all been blessed by Mum. Sorry, Mum. - That's better.

- And now we hunt. - BOTH: Yeah!

May my spear be strong enough to bring down a marauding megabear.

BOTH: Ooo! Megabear?

May Ugg's arrows fly straight enough to fell a stampeding mammoth.

- Mammoth? - Mammoth?

And may Grunt's dagger be sharp enough

to tear out the heart of a sabre-toothed tiger!

- Did he say tiger? - He said tiger, he said tiger.

We feast this night. Men, let's hunt!

- Raar! - BOTH: Argh!

No, no, no, no, no. That megabear looks pretty big, actually.

Look at the size of its hand!

Oh! Oh! Oh, that's a leg. Oh, there's the other leg.

Actually, maybe we should go and help. Go on.

- Or, or, or... - Yeah?

We could hunt that giant tortoise over there.

- I actually prefer tortoise to bear. - Me, too.

So let's go and get him. They're pretty good in soups, I think.

- Watch out, he's a biter! - He's getting away!

Yes. Cavemen really hunt giant tortoise.

In fact, we kill all giant tortoise in North America.

Bad caveman. Ow!

Hunting very tiring, so fitness important in Stone Age.

Do you want a body like this, but actually have a body like this?

Then you need the Caveman Workout.

It's perfect training for a prehistoric hunt.

You want guns like these? Sure you do. Let's start with those arms.

And club, and club, and club. Keep it going!

And club, and club. 10 more. Club.

OK. Let's start working out with those spears.

Don't worry, we use them to hunt bison.

First of all, we chase a bison off a cliff.

And run, and run. Get your feet up!

And run, and run. There's one there! Let's go!

Argh!

Once you have your bison, you need to finish him off.

And spear, and spear.

And spear. Keep it going! And spear.

It's time to drag the heavy bison up the hill, back to your cave.

And drag, and drag, and drag. While fighting off predators.

And drag, and club, and drag, and club.

- And drag, and club. That's really great. - Argh!

So that's it - the Caveman Workout.

Stay in shape and you, too, could live to the ripe old age of 30.

The Caveman Workout - available while cavemen last.

HE STRAINS

That's enough of that, I think.

Scientists say humans look the way they do thanks to hunting.

Yeah. You lot evolved springy leg and feet muscles

so you could chase animals for miles and miles.

And a bottom so you can sit watching telly for hours. It's true.

The famous Wild West pony express was set up in 1860

to carry mail from one side of America to the other.

But it didn't last long.

- Howdy, Bill. - Why, howdy, Jim.

Here I am, bang on schedule.

Although I did run into an ambush again

and I had to ride all through the night in a storm

and the horse got spooked by a rattlesnake,

reared up and threw me into a cactus.

Yeah! As if my butt wasn't sore enough,

having to spend 20 hours in the saddle to deliver mail to you.

- This is for you, Bill. - Why, thank you kindly, Jim.

Ooo! Ah! I forgot about that.

It says here they finished the telegraph line

running across the whole of America.

So all I have to do is connect up this here telegraph machine

and I should start receiving messages.

Look at that. It works!

You know there ain't nothing that can get your messages

from the East Coast to the West Coast faster than the pony express.

- It only takes us 10 days! - A telegraph only takes 10 seconds.

I've got my first message.

It says, "Pony express out of business, stop.

"Tell rider to get another job, stop."

Well, that is just a pain in the butt!

Ooo! And so is that.

One second. I got me some pliers.

Ooo!

That's right. The pony express riders' careers

were finished in just over a year.

Much like most X-Factor winners.

HE LAUGHS

Still, they were lucky if they lived to tell the tale

because the Wild West sure was full of dangerous characters.

But don't believe everything you read about them.

Lots of things in history are actually a mystery

The truth's not always in the books you read

Facts can get distorted or even misreported

Imagine if that was all down to me

Cliff White-lie.

- It's Whiteley! - Sorry.

Nah, nah, you got it the wrong way round, mate.

Sir Walter Raleigh's the explorer.

The Monte Carlos rally is the car race.

Yeah. Easy mistake to make.

- Whallop! - Cliff?

I've got Wyatt Earp and Billy The Kid in Reception.

Oh! I've only just had the ceiling done.

Alright, send them in.

- GUNFIRE - Yeehah!

- Alright! - Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

Susan, can you rebook the plasterer for next Wednesday? Thank you.

Mr Earp, Mr The Kid. What seems to be the problem?

We'd just like to give you a big thank you.

People believe Wyatt Earp and Billy The Kid

are genuine Wild West heroes.

- Yeehah! - Yeehah!

You don't need to thank me, lads.

I've got all the facts from these books what you gave me.

It was you fellas did all the gun fighting and holdups.

No, no, no, sir. We did not do any of that stuff.

- Beg your pardon? - I made it up.

- What? - That stuff about me bein' a sheriff

and bringin' law and order to the Wild West?

Heck, I was just a part-time policeman

who got fired for stealin' horses.

But I thought you was a hero. What about the gunfight at the OK Corral?

That gunfight was just an argument about a robbery we all did together.

It wasn't much of a gunfight.

Most of their side didn't have guns! Oh, yeah!

- Yeah! - Yeah! - No! No! This is a ceiling!

- Hee-hee! - I hope your book's a bit more authentic.

Sir? There is nothing authentic about my book in the least.

But it's called, The Authentic Life of Billy The Kid.

It was written by the man who killed me.

I think he wanted to big hisself up.

He must've got some things right. Let's have a look.

"Real name, William Bonney. Killed 21 men by the age of 21.

"Renowned for his handsome face."

Well, I am kinda handsome.

- And the rest? - My real name is Henry McCarty.

I killed my first man at 18, not 12.

And 21 murders before I was 21?

I only killed eight people my whole entire life.

- Whoo! - Yeah! Eight. Oh, yeah!

Honestly! So, you're both fakes?

Where's a real Wild West legend when you need one, eh?

Pearl Hart at your service.

Right. I'm gonna start charging for the ceiling.

I'm the real deal. Ran away from boarding school,

cut my hair, dressed like a man,

held up a stagecoach. Yeehah!

Lawmen had to fight hard to take me,

but not even a prison cell could hold down Pearl.

I busted my way through the wall and straight to freedom. Yeehah!

You do know there's an office above me?

And I did all that without killin' a soul.

How about you set the record straight

and wipe these no-good fakers straight from history?

That sort of thing could take me years.

Yep. That should do it.

- Yeehah! - Whallop!

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

Want to travel through the time sewers with me?

Ha! Then play Horrible Histories Terrible Treasures.

Go to the CBBC website and click on Horrible Histories.

Hope you enjoyed Horrible Histories.

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