All language subtitles for Horrible Histories s03e09 Vile Victorians.eng

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?

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!

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