Original subtitles

I could murder a nice cup of cocoa.

No, you mustn't. They'd hang you if you got caught.

Well, I've got to do something.

I'm freezing.

Try jumping up and down.

That'll want some feeling back in your fillings. All right.

Hop down, hop down, hop down, hop down, hop down, hop down, hop down, hop down.

I fancy something really hot tonight. Who's cooking it? Robin.

Oh, fancy foreign muck. I hate frog's legs. If you can't have a frog, have the

old thing, I say.

Yeah, what did he give us last week?

Acorn bolognese and honkers baked in their jackets?

Who's that?

What's wrong with your face, rabies?

It's my teeth, they won't stop chattering.

Why should we?

We're getting frostbite in here.

What am I going to do?

Yeah, look at his tongue.

It's gone blue.

I like being blue.

It's the only time I'm not yellow and furry.

Help, even my tongue.

It's chattering now.

I'm not surprised. I'm freezing.

It's colder than a penguin's slush puppy today.

You know what makes me really mad?

The thought of all those Normans snuggling in front of a blazing fire up

castle while we're out here shivering like a pirate's timbers.

Aww.

Yeah, it's a disgrace, that.

It's an outrage.

It's absolutely appalling.

We do not.

I wish they put their heads out wide and get covered in a snow drift ten feet

wide. Then they cough and sneeze and pretty soon they start to breathe

the...

They're cheating us and fooling us. We're not, aren't we?

Baby, baby.

They not only take our taxes, but the shirt from off our backs has got to

It's not a shirt.

Laser, actually.

I wish they'd put their heads outside and get covered in a dung heap.

Why, them, they'd rub their eyes and blink and pretty soon they'd start to

really hot.

Time for the Titans. Yeah, that's right.

Made Marian and her ronkin' men, you know?

By Tony Robinson, whoever he is.

Robin and

the tiny weeny little bean sprout.

What a rubbish song.

Sorry, my stomach's grumbling.

Well, it'll be smiling soon. Come on, Robin, it's supper time.

Is it? Great.

What have we got?

You tell us.

Um, give in.

Robin, what day is your cooking day?

Thursday. And what day is it today?

Well, it's Wednesday. No, it isn't.

It's when you speak to me in that hoity -toity tone of voice that I get a teensy

bit uppity. Miss, what day is it today?

It's Thursday, right?

Right. By cooking day.

Yep.

OK.

Well, I hadn't forgotten, actually.

I was going to give you something really special tonight as it happened. I was

just setting the mole traps for a nice barbecued mole in puff pastry with

sautéed pine needles and sweetened flower tree fungus when this most

thing happened.

I was walking through workshop when suddenly I saw this huge plague of

right? They were everywhere. In people's food.

In their hair?

In their clothes?

And they were big.

Really big.

So the people said to me, Robin of Kensington, you're our only hope.

If you can rid us of these, like, really loathsome creatures, we will be

eternally grateful and give you this shiny silver fixment.

So I blew my trusty hunting horn and immediately the woodlice started...

running out of the houses and out of the windows, down from the roofs and

over the bridge.

And as I skipped down the pathway, away from the village, the vile insects raced

after me until I came to the river and they went hurtling to their destruction.

God bless you, Robin, shouted the grateful villagers. What a pity we've

late when it's your day to do the cooking.

And they lifted me on their shoulders and... Robin, what was your bedtime

last night?

Pardon? The pie pie from Hampstead.

Exactly.

You didn't say works up from a flock of fluffy woodlice at all, did you?

I did so, actually. It was just a pathetic excuse because you've got a

size of an ant's contact lens and forgot our dinner.

That's all you know. Well, you're wrong, actually, so it's you who's the idiot,

isn't it? Ha! Got you there, didn't I?

The villagers were dead grateful, were they?

Amazingly. So you'll have the silver sixpence, won't you?

Ah, well... So you can go back to workshop and get us a nice hot takeaway,

you?

Erm... I've got a big surprise under here!

Well, lucky old you, Guy.

Oh, there.

I didn't scald you, did I? No. Never mind, I can always brain you with a

I suppose.

Can you guess what my surprise is?

Guy, I have just carried 43 buckets of boiling water into this room so you can

have a nice warm bath while the rest of the country suffers under the worst cold

spell since King Arthur sat on the magic icicle of Mevagithi. I do not care what

your surprise is. I'll give you a clue.

It's not the Archbishop of Canterbury. You amaze me. I'd have thought his grace

would have been dying for a spot of scuba diving round your plug hole.

Now, may I go, please? And it's not a pithy, witty mermaid.

So that fishy smell is just your armpits, is it?

Look! I'd rather not.

Look!

It's the soap! It's the soap!

I'm a clever you, isn't?

Guy, last time it was the sponge. The time before it was your amusing duck.

Don't you think your joke's wearing a bit thin?

No, we haven't done the loofer yet.

Oh, this is really hard work.

The firewood hasn't run out, has it? No, it's still in the same place.

You stay there, right?

That boy is more irritating than a swarm of red ants down your chain mail.

Gary, go out and buy a hammerhead shark, paint it yellow, stick a beak on it,

and then tell Guy it's his new bath toy. We can't do that, sire.

He's rich.

And if you give him a hard time, his mum will do that disgusting thing to you

with a pencil.

He's all right.

He's a bit of a joker, really.

Where's my hot water?

A joker?

What? You mean that thing in a pack of cubs is absolutely no use whatsoever, so

you might as well screw it up, tie it to a cannonball, fire it out into outer

space, and hope it disappears down a black hole?

That's the thing, sire.

Yeah, he's a bit of a joker, isn't he?

Run, Madrid, race!

There we are, chickweed. One farthing, please.

Thank you.

Next, please.

Hi. Got any spare ribs?

No, just the usual number.

Oh, OK. Then I'll have five sweet and sour mud, five crispy mud with cashew

nuts, and a large mud chow mein with extra mud, please.

Two and a half pea, please.

Ah.

But it's for my merry men, you see.

Two and a half pea.

Snooker? Have you ever been hassled by the pigs?

Trashed by chickens?

Right. And it's exactly that kind of harassment that we risk our lives to

you from every day.

So what do you say?

Two and a half for your clear off.

I want to ask you a question before you turn me from your door. I want you to

ask yourself, is this man my brother?

No. My brother's in Kidderminster.

Snooker, every man has a heavy load to carry.

If he hasn't paid for it, he doesn't. Will you ease that burden or will you

by on the other side?

I'm not leaving my shop. You'll nick all my grub.

There's a cold wind blowing down the street and me and my men are dying to

chop suey.

Chop suey.

As we roam the trees, our eyeballs freeze and our noses are red and our

have gone all bluey.

Little child, don't you know that a man can starve and flake away?

He's got to grab the odd kebab or a curry or a Chinese takeaway.

Push off, Craig.

So remember the guy who sang the song...

He'll drop dead and yet he might have stayed alive if he'd had a bite of

chop suey.

Chop suey.

Oh, Robin, that was beautiful.

You've melted my heart, dissolved my kidneys and lubricated my lower

Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen.

Now for my next number.

No! There is no need for a next number.

Here, take this as a reward for your song and the daring deeds you've done

us. And may little angels guard your bed. May bunny rabbits plump up your

pillows and blow on your cocoa.

And may small field mice weave their nests around your tootsies to provide

with an extra pair of bed socks.

Well, thank you very much.

I guess that some guys can just...

Do the business, know what I mean?

More hot water, please!

Are you sure, Si? It's a bit full.

I don't care!

I want to be as warm as a little fishy in a frying pan.

What, warm and dead, you mean?

No, silly!

You don't mean battered, do you?

The sheriff said he wouldn't mind at all if you were battered. I could dip you

in pancake mixture, wrap you in newspaper and serve you up with a

chips, but I don't think you'd be any happier.

More hot...

Well, at least he's keeping clean, sire.

Don't you believe it. He's just taking his dirt for a swim. He's got the only

body odour in the world with the certificate for the 100 -metre

And bring as much as you can. With a bit of luck, he'll disappear down the

overflow, float through a sewer and end up polluting a French beach.

And make sure the fire doesn't go out. And if you say, don't worry, sire, I'll

tie down with a piece of string, you're dead, right?

Must I, sire?

Yes. Nothing will shoot out, I promise.

Oh, all right, then.

Who's a clever, who's a slob? You've got the flannel in your gob.

Yes, I have, haven't I?

Here you are, guy.

I shouldn't have much more in there if I were you. It'll be so deep soon, the

pressure will flatten you into the shape of a halibut. Not that anyone would

notice the difference.

Will this do, sire? Yes, Gary.

I suppose another 100 cubic metres of water wouldn't go amiss. Just be careful

you don't trip over the loofer. What's a loofer?

I know, but it's... Do be careful, Gary.

My Lord?

What is this?

What time is it?

I don't know. The battery on me sundial's packed up.

Come on, Robin.

with losing a few pounds, a few stone more like.

Don't be so cheeky.

Sorry, Mary, me guts are playing up.

Honestly, that man. You ask him to do the simplest of things and you end up

with... Chopsticks, anyone?

Let's make this a really sophisticated little lot, shall we?

Well, the day hasn't been entirely wasted, then. Not again!

My lord.

If that boy goes home, I lose my rent, and you lose an unsightly growth on your

neck. What, my beauty spot?

No, your head. I want him well -fed and wrapped up in a fur coat in 30 seconds

from now. I'll pay!

Yes, my lord. Pardon me, my lord.

Right. I'll pick you up. You hide a fur. Come on.

Hey, shut the door!

You want to be careful.

You'll catch your death in here.

Yes, but not as quickly as you.

Come on.

One bean sprout.

Is this your sophisticated Chinese banquet?

Oh, goodness me. Shall I carve or shall we hack bits off and save the rest for

breakfast? Oh, dear.

Someone seems to have slipped up, don't they?

Someone, Robin.

Someone. And who might this someone be?

The government minister in charge of beans...

Contribution, do you think? Not voting for him again.

Well, it certainly wasn't me.

I got you this fabulous meal, proper Chinese, with evaporated milk in the

and everything.

But what happened was... I was on the way here, right, and I noticed this

container was looking a bit dingy, right, so I gave it a rub and poof!

What do you think? There's this flash of green smoke and out of its steps this

enormous guy with a ring through his nose and he says to me...

New Chinese takeaway for old, OK?

I thought, hey, that sounds like a pretty right -on deal, so... What was

night's story, little Ron?

Aladdin and his wonderful Chinese takeaway?

Exactly.

Robin, you are a liar. If Pinocchio had told as many lies as you, his nose would

have stretched from Aberdeen to London, gone three times round the M25 and only

stopped growing because of the queues at the Dartford Tunnel.

Now go away and don't come back till you've got us a hot meal.

I am. clean uncle, aren't I? I'm as clean as a queen in a washing machine.

You'll be as bruised as a queen in a washing machine if you don't shut up.

do you want this powder?

Up my armpits, please.

Not poking around in there.

I'd rather go on a camping holiday in a sewage farm.

Here you are, my lord. The entire contents of one Chinese takeaway.

Listen, mate, the royal family is a wonderful institution, right? They give

hours of pleasure reading about Princess Margaery's weight problems and little

Prince Herbert's hilarious adventures at nursery school.

The least you can do in return is give them a few noodles and half a ton of

monosodium glutamate, right?

Oh, shiny food!

It's my truly best.

I'll eat and eat until my tummy's full.

What would you say to a little crispy duck?

Nothing. It'd bite its head off. Where's the soy sauce?

How about you, Sheriff?

No, thank you. I'm not a fan of Chinese food. You know what they say.

You eat a Chinese meal and two hours later you throw up.

I'd rather eat a donkey that had been dead for a month, covered in cockroaches

and served up by a waiter with a runny nose. Thank you.

Well, I love it. I'd stuff it down my gobby wobby every day if I could.

It would be difficult, my lord. The notorious bandit Robin Hood has taken

every takeaway he can take away.

He's already executed a daring raid on a restaurant in Workshop by threatening a

never -ending karaoke performance of bad Elvis Presley imitations.

Well, that's no problem. We can keep these peasants. They can cook for us.

sir, I'll miss my family and neighbours.

I don't care about my family, but I've got to know what's happening on Ramsey

Street. Oh, stop moaning and fight!

and then chucking it off the battlements. Come on!

I've got a better idea.

Why don't we chuck it off the battlements first and then run

ourselves to it?

Hello?

Hello?

Has anyone got any spare food, please?

Freezing cold, starving hungry, branded as a liar, banished from the forest.

Oh, no, we...

I've got a scuff mark on my trainers.

What a downer.

And it's all your fault.

If you'd been a decent sort of bean sprout, you'd have grown into an

tree and I'd have climbed up you and butchered a few giants and stolen their

quiches and pate and maybe a small salad with dwarf tomatoes, chicory and a

light honey dressing and become a hero in my own range of knitwear and stuff.

But what sort of bean are you?

You're a has -been.

Wow. Oh, wow.

Thank you.

Thank you.

I will climb you, Bean Sprout. I will boldly go where no man has ever gone

before and seek my fortune.

Oh, yummy mummy.

What's growing up?

I'm as happy as a chappy with a great big nappy.

No, Guy, you're as wet as a chappy with a great big nappy. You goat face, pass

me some of those round things.

Sweet and sour woodlice, Your Majesty.

Yes, and I'll have to... Wait a minute.

How do I know you're not trying to poison me?

Why would I want to do that?

Because I'm a complete swine, of course.

Oh, yeah.

You've got a point.

I'll tell you what.

I'll take a mouthful first, then I'll know if I've poisoned you, because I'll

drop down dead.

Me too?

A good idea.

What's the smell?

Chinese?

Give me a spoonful, too.

Spoons. How tacky.

Honestly, the royals can be so middle class.

Well, I guess a style man will just have to show them what to do.

Sir! Guess who this is, Your Majesty.

It's you.

I might have guessed.

Yes, and I've got a little present for you. I know. I can feel it.

I'm not bad with these things, actually. Would you like me to show you? No,

please. I beg you.

It's easy when you get the knack. Just one little flick of the wrist and Bob's

your uncle. No mess, no little bits dropping all over the floor. And if you

in a tangle, you can always use your hands.

Please, please. I know what you want. It's that Chinese meal, isn't it?

Your Majesty.

Oh, take it away. Take it away and please go.

All of it? Yes. It's a present.

You lot.

Robin Hood!

Let's help him.

Yeah, we found a lovely coat.

Pity about the wildebeest, though. Doesn't look so nice pink, does it?

Where's Nottingham? I haven't thought so humiliated since Brother Dick put a

jellyfish under my chair and told the maths teacher I've wet myself.

Here you are, my lord.

Mission accomplished.

No, it isn't. While you've been on your shopping trip...

Six inches of cold chopped thick, actually. What?

Here it is. Goodness me, Your Majesty, that must have been terrifying.

Did he use any other dreadful weapons? A tea strainer, perhaps?

A pair of sugar tongs?

Pretty lucky, really, he didn't beat you up with an egg.

Not again.

I hope you don't think you're being amusing.

You're about as funny as a donkey with depressed undertakers.

Let me make this clear.

We lost our Chinese meal because of you, and my nephew told you he wants one

every night, right?

Oh, yum! So from now on, you'll be slaving away at your wok, morning, noon

night. Understand!

And knowing how much you like Chinese food... Well, actually, Your Majesty...

You'll be taking a big bite every ten seconds to make sure I haven't been

poisoned!

So... I climbed out the window, down through the branches, I cut through the

trunk with one blow of my trusty sword, and here I am.

Boys, which one of our bedtime stories does that remind you of?

Sinbad the Southman?

No. Snow White and Her Seven Warts? No. I know, that one by the two brothers.

Grimm? No, it's quite nice, really.

It's Jack and the Bean Sprout, as you very well know.

Robin, this is another of your great big lies, isn't it?

No, it isn't. Yes, it is. Isn't. Look, if I can prove it isn't, will you do all

my cooking for a month?

Robin, if you can prove it isn't, I'll sit in this fried rice, dust those

noodles down my knickers and do all your cooking for a year. Robin, thank you

for saving us. And thanks to that bean sprout for growing into a giant tree.

Barrington, pass the noodles, will you?

Don't you carry on with what you're doing.