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. #

The English Civil War pitted the Royalist supporters

of the King against the Roundhead supporters of Parliament.

Everyone took sides, even highwaymen, like James Hind.

I don't know why we can't take the main road. It's making me nervous.

It's quicker this way on foot, isn't it?

Look, you don't need to worry, it's perfectly safe.

- Stand and deliver, your money or your life! - Take my wedding ring.

- Hang on, let's not get ahead of ourselves. - What?

Before the robbery, there's a few questions I need to ask.

Are you, or have you ever, been a Parliamentarian

or in any other way opposed to King Charles?

- Absolutely not. - No, we're Royalists. - Oh, good.

Something of a Royalist myself.

- Really? - Small world. - Yeah, isn't it?

Would you consider yourself to be enjoying good fortunes,

suffering bad fortunes, or don't know?

My entire estate has just been taken over by Roundheads,

half of my family killed and my carriage burnt to the ground.

Bad fortunes, then. Honestly, it's terrible here, all this crime.

Oh, last but not least, would you say you were really rich,

a bit rich, quite poor or very poor?

Well, this is my last sixpence.

Very poor, righto!

To summarise, you're down on your luck

and you don't have any money.

So then, I guess there's only one thing for it.

Oh!

Here's a bag of gold coins

to tide you over.

S-sorry, it's just traditionally, in my experience,

- robberies don't work this way. - No.

If you were a Parliamentarian, it'd be a very different story indeed,

but I've got a bit of a soft spot for fellow Royalists,

especially if they're having a hard time. So come on, fill your boots.

Thank you.

Thank you.

No problem.

Well, suppose I better shoot, so to speak.

See what I did then? Yeah, well mind how you go now.

- Well, he seemed nice. - Absolutely charming.

Stand and deliver, your money or your life.

No, thank you, we're Royalists.

HE LAUGHS

That's right, James Hind was a Royalist highwayman

who stole from the supporters of Parliament,

and eventually was killed by them too.

So he didn't survive to see the crowning

of the next King Charles II, but if he had,

I bet he would have wanted a souvenir.

- When he comes, you do the talking. - I'll just start.

I'll pick it up from there.

He's coming, he's coming.

I simply can't wait to see

what you've made to celebrate my coronation.

- Aye, you will not be disappointed. - Ooh, what is it?

An oil painting of me by world renowned Dutch artist Rembrandt.

- It's better than that, Your Majesty. - Ooh!

Is it an image of me

in a massive new stained glass window in Westminster Abbey?

- Even better! - Oh, you haven't?!

It's a diamond and ruby encrusted solid gold statue of me.

- I love it, show me! - Ta-dah!

It is the first ever royal coronation mug, Your Majesty.

A mug?!

A mug of your mug.

A mug with my face on it?

Indeed.

MUG SHATTERS

Oh, dear!

There appears to have been an accident.

- That went well. - No.

Hiya, fashion fans, and welcome to Historical Fashion Fix.

This week, I'll be making over a Middle Ages peasant

- and here he is, Gilbert. - Hi.

Oh, stop filming, stop filming!

- It smells like a blocked drain in here. - That might be me, sorry.

Oh, Gilbert, my love. Do you never wash your clothes?

Oh, no. My lovely wife, Pat,

- she washes them in the best stuff. - What's that?

Old wee.

Smelling salts for the star and a skinny mocha!

Can I get one of those?

Right, Gilbert, let's see if we can't turn you into a Middle Ages noble.

But first things first, let's get you cleaned up, darling.

- Well, that is so much better. - Feels better, Lee. - Great!

Er, only, is this all I get?

- Because I feel a little exposed. - Of course not.

You'll be wearing a tunic too.

Tunic's a bit short.

Short tunics are the very latest Middle Ages fashion.

And these shoes?

They're called poulaines, as they originated in Poland.

They're the very latest thing.

- Quite hard to walk in. If I... Oh! - You OK?

- Yeah. - You all right? - Yeah, I'm all right.

We'll fix the... Can we get the shoes fixed? We'll get the shoes fixed.

A chain fastens the point of the shoe to the knee,

tres chic and no more tripping.

Let's remind ourselves just how disgusting Gilbert looked before.

Wow, that is a vast improvement.

I know it sounds cheesy, but I'm going to say it anyway,

I don't just look like a Middle Ages nobleman,

I feel like a Middle Ages nobleman. Thanks, Lee.

- Come here, peasant! I'm arresting you. - What for?

- That outfit, it's criminal! - Oh, that's weak.

- It - IS - criminal. Only nobleman are allowed to wear

- fine clothes in the Middle Ages. - What?

- Come along, princess. - Did you know about this? - Come here!

- Why didn't you say? - I didn't know. Stop being so hideous!

Well, that's it for this week.

Join us next time when I'll be teaching a Roman slave

how to look fierce in fur, by being swallowed by a lion.

See you then.

It's true! In the Middle Ages,

us peasants could be arrested for wearing fine clothes. It's not fair.

And some of the jobs we had to do were pretty measly, too.

- Morning, Mick. - Geoff.

Can't help but notice you're stood in the middle of a pond, Geoff.

- Oh, yeah. I've got a new job, haven't I? - Oh, right?

- Duck inspector? Scare toad? - No, no.

I'm a leech collector.

- Oh, right? - Yeah.

The medical profession use leeches

for everything these days. There's money to be made

from collecting the leeches, selling them to the doctors.

I suppose there is.

So what are you using as bait, then?

- All sorts of things. I tell you what they really love. - What?

Me! Oh! Oh, that hurts! Like a thousand tiny needles

in a single inch of flesh!

- And voila! One leech. Easy, really. - Ah.

- You enjoy this line of work then, do you? - Ah, you know, mustn't grumble.

Ow! Oh, that hurts so bad! It's more than a man can endure!

There's another one. Yeah, you know, can't complain.

Oh! Oh, that stings like crazy. Oh, for the love of what's good and pure!

- It got away. - Well, I've got to say, Geoff,

it looks like it SUCKS!

HE LAUGHS

Not sure I quite get that one, Mick.

Oh! Ow! Come on, boys, one at a time.

Oh, and that's not sporting!

That's right,

slimy leeches were used for medical cures in the Middle Ages.

Wouldn't happen nowadays, right?

Wrong! Some modern hospitals still use

the little bloodsuckers for cleaning out infected wounds. Huh!

If only there was a market for fleas, I'd be a millionaire.

Oh, easy boys.

Freeze! DI Bones, Historical Crime Squad.

Oh, Detective, thank goodness you're here!

I am the Emperor Caligula and I've been scared out of my wits.

No need to worry, Emperor. Leave this to the professionals.

Victim is male.

Severe mutilations.

I'll soon get my hands on the animal who tortured and killed this man.

Oh, him? Oh, don't worry, that was me.

That's just a friend that I got bored of.

- Now, let me tell you about this crime. - No need to,

I can see for myself.

Ah! Victim has had his hands chopped off

and a sign put about his neck,

encouraging people to laugh and jeer.

What kind of madman would do this?

Yep, that'll be me again!

- You did it? - Such a fun party. Now, about this crime.

Oh, mother!

What kind of sick-minded madman would attack a priest with a hammer?

Mm, you're really not getting the hang of this, are you?

That was me, too.

He was trying to sacrifice a bull,

but he gave me the hammer, to do the honours

and then I hit him with it instead!

HE GIGGLES

Priceless!

All these bodies were me.

So, why exactly did you call me here?

I think someone's trying to kill me.

- You don't say. - Mm.

Believe it or not, I think there's one or two people out there

who, for some unknown reason, don't seem to like me.

One or two?

I imagine half the empire would like to see you dead.

Really? You think so?

Well, in which case I'd better bump off anyone acting suspiciously.

Victims were all killed by one paranoid

and clearly psychotic Roman emperor.

Mm. Talking into a small box? Talk about acting suspiciously.

What do you think, Whackus Bonkus?

"Kill him!" Ooh!

You naughty Whackus Bonkus!

What a good idea.

HE GIGGLES

Er, detective?

That Emperor Caligula really did have criminals killed

at his dinner parties for fun,

and that wasn't the only way lawbreakers could come

to a sticky end in Roman times.

Global Gladiator Entertainment presents Arena Fighter.

You are a Noxius,

a Roman criminal condemned to fight in the Roman arena.

Player one, select opponent. Gaius the Gladiator selected.

Woah, woah, woah. Time out.

Listen, I know I'm just a criminal and that, but I can't fight

a highly-trained, heavily- armed professional gladiator,

you know? I mean, it's just not fair.

Can you select someone else, please?

Player one, select new opponent.

Cheers. Thanks. Much appreciated.

Brutus the Bear selected.

BEAR GROWLS

Seriously?

How is that any better, huh?

He's going to tear me to pieces.

Can you not select a player that's a bit more in my league?

Player one, select new opponent.

Unarmed Noxius selected.

An unarmed criminal? Now you're talking!

Fight begins.

Urgh! Ooh!

Aarrgh!

Yes! Get in!

Player one wins. Play again.

No, thanks. I'll pass.

You have to play again. It's winner stays on.

Player one, select new opponent.

- Noxius selected. - Another Noxius?

I could kill these idiots all day.

Hang on, where's my weapon gone?

It's winner stays on, only without the weapons.

Arena Fighter. How long can you survive?

About 30 seconds, I reckon.

No, no, no...

Pow! Jab! Oh, hello. You're there.

Fights in the Roman arena were hugely popular spectator sports,

a bit like the football of their day,

only with a lot more injury time.

If you lost your fight and you were lying on the sand,

not moving, two blokes were sent out dressed as Roman gods

to make sure you were dead.

Ave, Flavius. I see you're playing Mercury the Messenger God today.

Ave, Marcus, or should I say Dis, God of the Dead?

Ooh, I'm liking the new wings.

I thank you. Yes, the old ones were getting a bit manky.

I thought these made me look more godlike.

CROWD CHEERING

Ooh,

- looks like you're on. - Back in a tick.

I am Mercury, Messenger God.

HEAVY BLOWS

- Is he dead? - I think so, yeah.

Put my red hot poker in and he didn't make a sound.

Well, better make sure.

Oh, by the way you got a little...

- Oh. - On your cheek. - Oh, right.

I am Dis, God of the Dead, come to claim this man.

HEAVY BLOW

CHEERING

Well, if he wasn't dead then, he sure is now.

THEY LAUGH

- Ooh, you've got a bit of, um... - Eh? - On your ear.

Oh, right.

- Have I got it? - Not quite, no.

CHEERING

- Oh, you're on again. - Busy day.

I am Mercury, Messenger God.

SIZZLING

Aarrgh!

Not dead then?

Not quite and he didn't like the red hot poker very much.

I think you've got a little bit of, er,

- sword. - Ah.

Might have to take tomorrow off.

The answer is

C, four years old.

It really could be hard work being a child in Victorian times.

In good old Queen Victoria's day

Industrial revolution

Meant bosses said please we need more employees

We needed a solution.

Who will climb our chimneys? Who will power our grids?

Victorian families so desperately poor

They'll let us employ their kids for...

Work, terrible work

From very young ages

Up chimneys to clean

Paid pitiful wages

Work, terrible work

Pins make you work faster

If we grew too big

Get sacked by the master

Now you're all in my employ

Cleaning in the factory

- We're not very strong - And the hours are long

This work is unsatisfactory

Dare not to get caught in spokes

Or trap our hands in gauges

To stop machines and get you out

Will cost you a week's wages

Work, terrible work

There's no health or safety

So if we get hurt

They will just replace me

Work, terrible work. #

Sorry.

WHISTLES

Now that I am short of cash I have to pick pockets

Wallets from gentlemen and ladies lockets

Small enough to get away hardly ever caught

And if we are, we're kids, you see to cry is what we're taught

Boo hoo!

Work, terrible work

Dangerous and demeaning

No time to complain

Get back to your cleaning

Work, terrible work

Guess what we are dreaming?

School, glorious school

Wonderful school marvellous school

Wish we went to school. #

Hello, I'm Dominic Duckworth and this is the age of chivalry.

An age of gallant knights and fair play.

Am I right? No! I'm absolutely wrong.

Today on HHTV Investigates, I'll be lifting the lid

on the corrupt rule-breaking that is changing the face

of chivalric tournaments.

One traumatised knight agreed to speak to me.

Before the joust, there's a thing called the melee,

where all of the knights have this big fight.

There's only really one rule - try not to kill anybody.

Anyway, there was this brute of a knight, Sir Henry Belvedere

- and he, um... - Go on.

- He tried to kill me. - What evidence do you have? - Well,

he did this. Ah! Ah!

This is the safe area, where during the melee,

knights can take a time-out without fear of being attacked.

Oh, sorry.

Now, the safe area is indeed an area that is safe. Am I right?

No, I'm absolutely wrong. This is exactly where Sir Henry

broke the "try-not-to-kill-anyone" rule.

With corruption and law breaking rife in a once clean sport,

it's time for Dom to go undercover.

Right, so Brother Dom is ready for action. Got my bible cam,

let's go and find Sir Henry, ask him some questions.

Sir Henry,

- Congratulations on winning the tournament. - Thank you, Brother

I won this big fish.

Bit weird, I know, but...

I couldn't help noticing outside, your lance,

- Bit longer than regulation, isn't it? - What?

Easier for you to knock people off their horses.

- What are you suggesting, Brother? - What about this saddle of yours?

It screws into your armour to ensure you can't be

knocked off your horse.

You know, I don't like what you're insinuating.

Back off, Sir Henry. knights aren't allowed to attack religious people,

so you're not going to hit me, am I right?

Ow, he hit me with a fish!

That stinks!

Oh, no!

Next week, we'll be looking into the Middle Ages

counterfeiting rackets that's rocking the world trade

of holy relics.

We'll be asking, "Is there really three heads of John the Baptist?"

See you then. I need to go to hospital.

It's true! Some knights really did cheat in tournaments.

Another method was to get a gang of squires with wooden clubs

to jump on their opponents on the way to a contest and beat him up.

Think I'll stick to tiddlywinks.

Even that might be better than what happened to these knights.

Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

They're funny cos they're true.

Woo! Stupid deaths, stupid deaths,

Hope next time it's not you. Hee-Hee!

I'm thinking of getting my teeth done. Yeah.

Oh, you have a spare set? Oh, you are a love. Let's talk later. Next!

Ooh look, a boy band.

And who might you be?

We are the Knights Templar.

Yes, I agree. It'll never work.

You'll have to think of a new name. Barron Knights, perhaps?

No, we are Knights Templar. Knights from the sacred Order of the Temple.

The most skilled and feared Christian fighting units

in the Crusades.

What, feared because of your dreadful smell? Ah-woo-ah!

- Yes, I think that might be me. - Yeah, that's him all right.

- Don't be like that. - Well, you stink.

Ooh, I sense a story here. Go on.

Yes, we were doing a night- time raid on a Saracen camp.

It was all going terribly well. We managed to sneak in unnoticed.

The element of surprise was very much on our side.

But as we were making our way through the tents,

I tripped over a tent pole.

Yes, and?

- And fell headfirst into a hole. - Uh-huh?

Which unfortunately turned out to be their toilet.

Oh, hence the "Whoo!"

Yes, I got stuck and drowned in the, um...

You fell headfirst into a toilet and then you drowned!

HE LAUGHS

That is priceless!

- And that's not all. - Ooh, goody! There's more.

He made such a noise, he woke all the Saracens

and they swiftly surrounded and killed the rest of us.

- I said sorry about that. - Nincompoop!

"Poop" being the operative word!

Ha! All right!

Well, guys, congratulations, you're through to the afterlife.

Er, the showers are on the left just as you go in.

After POO! Ha-ha!

I love my job sometimes.

No, you can't mentor them. You don't have the bands this year.

Next!

Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

Hope next time it's not yo-o-ou! #

HE BREAKS WIND

Ooh.

And we get the word Spartan, which means strict or disciplined,

from us Spartans. Yeah.

I don't care if you were hungry, you shouldn't have been stealing.

Is Mrs J going to make me pay for it?

It's not Mrs Jones, today.

We have another of our substitute head teachers from the past.

- Oh, no. - Mr Brasidas from Ancient Sparta will see you now.

..get defensive about it,

I'm simply telling you no-one wants kedgeree two days in a row.

Sorry.

Ah, I can see why you're in trouble straight away.

A boy wearing shoes on his feet?

Criminal!

I shall have to beat you.

Actually, Mr Brasidas,

Lewis has been stealing.

What? Stealing?

Well done, lad!

That's exactly the kind of thing we encourage at Spartan school.

Maybe we'll forget about the whole shoe thing, shall we? Off you pop.

I knew reducing the food portions would lead to behaviour like this.

- Mr Brasidas, stealing is wrong. It should be punished. - Nonsense!

It's a great lesson for any warrior - win by any means.

We need to teach children to be sneaky in order to win battles.

That's a relief. I thought I was in trouble when they caught me.

What? Caught you?

Stealing may not be frowned upon, but being caught stealing is.

- Well, I shall have to beat you after all. - Actually, Mr Brasidas,

you're not allowed to do this.

It came up in a governor's meeting and it was a no-no.

Completely ridiculous! Next thing, you'll be telling me

I can't line up boys in front of a statue of Artemis

and whip them till they drop, to find our who's strongest.

I'm sure you can't do that, either.

But we have a play at Christmas. Is that the same kind of thing?

No, not really.

No, I shall have to beat you. Prepare for your beating, boy.

Now, where's my beating stick.

Have you stolen it?

No, sir! I'm hurt you'd even suggest it.

There's hope for you yet. Off you go.

Yes, it's true!

Spartan boys were beaten, whipped, starved and bullied at school,

which was great for turning out fearsome warriors.

Probably not so good for turning out creative geniuses like me.

Do you like it? It's my latest. I call it Homage To Fromage.

I'm putting it on Fleabay with a reserve of 5p.

What do you mean, too high? Ah!

The prickling of the thistles supposedly gave them

a feeling of warmth in the winter.

In 1813, repair work was carried out on the royal tombs at Windsor

and George IV was actually there when some of them were opened.

Well, I suppose that's one way of getting to know your ancestors.

King George IV is well known for his love of art, fashion,

architecture, Catholic women and food.

- Vast amounts of food. - I can hear you.

I can hear you when you say that.

But today, we aim to find out the truth about his past,

tracing his family tree as we ask the question...

We've enlisted the help

of leading family historian Sir Francis Guesswork,

who has come here to Windsor Castle to meet the King himself.

Well, from the records I have found so far, birth certificates

and that sort of thing, I think there's a very strong possibility

that you are descended from royalty.

Well, of course I'm descended from royalty.

I'm King!

Oh, so you knew?

Well, my dad was King, my great-grandfather was King

and his father was King, so, er, yeah, I had an inkling.

Oh. Ah!

But did you know that your great, great,

- great uncle's father was also a king? - Yes!

- King Charles I. Beheaded by the Puritans. - Right.

Ah, but did you know that your great, great, great, great,

- great, great, great... - Oh, this is boring!

What are you doing? How am I meant to research your relatives

without my notes?

- Well, we can go and pay them a visit if you'd like. - How? They're dead.

- The family tombs in a little chapel on the castle grounds. - Oh.

Come on, let's have a look.

In an unusual twist on what normally happens in this show,

the King of England has taken our historian

into St George's Chapel, to prod some of his dead relatives.

It's all gone a bit weird, really.

Here we are.

- Who would you like to see first? - I don't want to see anyone.

Oh, you big girl! Look, Henry VIII.

Grrgh!

Yes, he was a big lad, 6'3" or just under. Do you know how I know that?

I got drunk and measured him.

Right, who shall we look at next?

I know! Charles I.

I found his tomb the other day but I haven't opened it yet.

I thought he was beheaded.

No. They stitched his head back on and they buried him.

Ooh, this one's sealed nice and tight.

Eurrgh!

There he is. There's old Charlie.

- Well, he's very well preserved. - Well, it's a well-built tomb, you see,

still had its airtight seal.

- Fascinating(!) - Trouble is,

the body disintegrates quickly once the air gets to it.

you know, bones crumbling, skin cracking,

- eyes popping. - Eyes popping? - Oh, yes. Yeah.

POP!

Urgh!

Oh, I guess you could say that King Charles has got his EYE on you.

HE RETCHES

Oh...

Honestly, some people have no respect for the dead.

Tall tales, atrocious acts.

We gave you all the fearsome facts... #

Psst! Can you keep a secret? No, me neither.

I've found some great games in the Time Sewers, want to come and play?

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

See you there.

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