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

♪ Punishments from ancient times

♪ Romans, rotten, rank and ruthless

♪ Cavemen, savage, fearsome, 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. ♪

Horrible Histories presents...

Our day-to-day lives may have changed a lot over the centuries.

But whatever the era, whatever the civilisation,

each new day always started with a sunrise.

Although in ancient Egypt, we believed the sun wouldn't rise

without a bit of help from the Pharaoh.

Right, I'd better go and get her up.

♪ I am The Pharaoh of Egypt

♪ But I get up before everyone

♪ Gotta wake this god ♪ Amun-Ra

♪ So he'll light up the sky with the sun

but we rush through

♪ To the Temple...

♪ Must get washed and dressed ♪ No lie-in

♪ For a Pharaoh, don't you know?

♪ All the priests in the temple pray

♪ Amun-Ra, Amun-Ra Bring the day

♪ Up at the crack of dawn

♪ To wake like an Egyptian

♪ Breakfast arrives - milk, cake, bread

♪ And the ritually slaughtered bull

♪ But it's all for him ♪ Amun-Ra

♪ The sun god is never, ever full

♪ Everyone backs out

♪ A priest and me Lift the veil, start the ritual

♪ Bang on those drums ♪ Amun-Ra

♪ Cos the whole world dies if we fail

♪ All the priests in the temple pray

♪ Amun-Ra, Amun-Ra

♪ Bring the day

♪ All waiting for the sun

♪ To wake for the Egyptians... ♪

HE WHISTLES

♪ Here comes the dawn We're all safe

♪ It's time to put my fake beard on

♪ Like Amun-Ra

♪ And the Pharaoh's work is never done

♪ All the priests in the temple say

♪ Hatshepsut, you must do this every day

♪ It's not that much fun

♪ To wake like an Egyptian. ♪

Come here, you dirty, great bit of cheese.

I want... ALARM RINGS

Oh! Morning.

Oh, I hate getting up.

Whilst nowadays,

we use an alarm or shouting parents to help us get out of bed,

in the past both regular people and kings and queens

needed some extra specialist systems when it came to starting their day.

I've got 500 people who need to be working in my factory by 6am.

But there's no way I'm going to pay them enough to afford alarm clocks.

We could call... the knocker-upper?

I heard someone was looking for me.

She'll give everyone a wake-up call.

Thanks, Jane!

Thank you!

Ow, my eye! You're welcome.

And with her trusty pea-shooter.

You can't hit the snooze button.

Sorry about the bed pan, Jane. I woke up in a bad mood.

That's OK, lady.

Still, I should have emptied it first.

The knocker-upper in...

HE SNORES

IN FRENCH ACCENT: It is time for you to wake up, Your Majesty.

Eeeh!

Hello, my subjects. It is I, King Louise XIV.

What's up?

Lots of you have been asking,

"Hey Louis, how come you look so banging every morning?"

Well, it's a good question.

It's partly down to my natural awesomeness,

but I do get a teensy, weensy bit of help.

Say hello! Hey! Bonjour!

This is my chief valet de chambre, Alexandre Bontemps.

He is one of the most powerful people in all of France.

I get to sleep in a tiny bed in the corner of his bedroom.

Super cool!

The closer I let people get to me the more important they are,

and he is so close to me he can literally breathe in my pantalon...

HE FARTS There we go, eeeh!

Eh-eh! Hashtag, winning at life!

After wakey-wakey,

my physician and surgeon come in to check if I'm super fit

and to take off my night shirt. You are just a slacker!

These important moments give them a chance

to ask me for a private favour.

I have a little dispute with the neighbour.

I was wondering,

could you have him arrested and all his land seized?

Well, if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

Oi! Back-scratching is my job!

Once I am out of my sweaty nightshirt, I have a quick pray.

Dear God, aren't we both awesome?

Amen.

And then I get dressed in my other bedroom

in front of my courtiers.

THEY CHEER

Hey, who's got my undies?

Ah... I give them responsibility for different items of clothing,

so once they are arguing over who owns my under-crackers,

they are less likely to plot against me, eh?

That is Maurice.

He used to be in charge of my undies,

but he missed a lot of skids.

Didn't you, Maurice?

It's too late, now!

Throughout all of this, I wear a little sleeping wig.

Well, I don't want to look stupid, you know?

So, who wants to help me get changed?

MEN ARGUE

So much to do before you can get going, eh?

OK, you're up and dressed.

So what's next? Time to check your news feed and brush those teeth,

obvs. In ancient Rome, however, we did things differently.

When it came to cleaning our teeth,

well, let's just say you've got it better in your time.

And we certainly didn't get the news from our phone, tablet or TV.

COCK CROWS

There was a lot of noise in the city last night. I barely slept a wink.

I wonder what's going on. Well, why don't you listen to the news?

Good idea. Articulus!

What are the headlines?

What, really? It is quite a long way to...

Articulus... who's the slave here?

Ugh... fine.

Hello, I'm Articulus. Here is the news,

as displayed this morning on the forum wall,

which is a really long way away, actually. Hm.

The slave rebellion led by Spartacus

has defeated a Roman legion near Mount Garganus

and now threatens Rome itself.

Hm, that's a little concerning. Authorities are concerned

that slaves in the city may join the rebels, not least because

some of them have to go down to the forum first thing in the morning

because their masters are too lazy to get the news themselves.

Fake news. What's the celebrity news?

Oh... Well, I didn't check.

Well, you know what to do.

HE SIGHS Unbelievable.

Well?

HE PANTS Give me a minute.

It's a super-boohoo day, girlfriend,

as Rome lost one of our golden gladiators,

hashtag, Sadiator.

Oh, dear. That is sad.

RIP Crixus, who was killed by Roman soldiers during the slave uprising.

The uprising that was caused by the mistreatment of slaves.

Things like, I don't know,

making them go and get the news first thing every morning.

Boring. What about the sport? You are joking me?

No, but I'll be selling you to a lion tamer

if you don't get me the sports news. Argh.

Ow!

What's taking him so long?

Oh!

Oh, it burns.

It'll be a slow day in the Circus Maximus,

because loads of the gladiators have joined the slave rebellion

and the cleverer Romans don't want to risk

arming the rest of the very angry slaves.

Ah. Yes, I see the point.

Yeah, that's it for today. I'll have more news for you tomorrow,

assuming I haven't joined the rebellion.

Yes, you know what? Have tomorrow morning off.

I'll wander down and look for myself. Hmm.

Hm.

You look fantastic.

Pointy nose like Cleopatra's, eyes like stars

and that stole you're wearing - you slay, girlfriend.

And then you smile.

Argh, you look like a horse. NEIGHING

A horse with bad teeth.

Of course, we all know that gargling with bull's bile

and brushing with the burnt ashes of their hair keep the dentist away.

But for brighter, whiter teeth, you need Iberian boy wee.

It's new, Iberian boy wee.

I beg your pardon?

Want to know my secret? Well, URINE...

for a treat.

Here comes the Roman science bit.

Beast smacks like dormice can stick in your teeth

and rot like Brutus's bum sponge.

But it's actually red wine which makes your teeth look - ew -

really disgusting.

CAT WAILS Of course, we've all used normal wee

on centipede bites and hedgehog wounds,

but Iberian boy wee cleans

your grill with just one swill.

Is it fresh? It sure is.

Thank you, Jose. Drink it while it's warm.

And spit.

And guess what?

The more you drink, the more you... Stink?

...shine, I was going to say.

For natural, brighter, whiter teeth,

tinkle, drinkle and winkle

with new, Iberian boy wee.

I can't understand why you humans

stopped using wee to clean your teeth.

It's the one time we agreed on personal hygiene.

But whatever. You do you.

Anyway, on with our daily life, and morning routine done,

it's off to school or work.

Although back in 1850s England, it wasn't just the grown-ups

who were heading out the door to make a living.

There he is, our birthday boy!

11 years old. They grow up so fast!

Thanks, Mum and Dad. I'm going to eat cake and open presents all day.

I don't think they'll allow that. Who?

BOTH:

♪ It's time that you knew

♪ Age 11's the time

♪ That you're sent down the mine. ♪

The mine? KNOCKING

SHE CHUCKLES Is it this one?

Yes, Mrs Harris. Arms up, birthday boy.

What are you doing? I am measuring you for a harness.

Great, you're the perfect size to be a hurrier.

It's one of the small children we use

to crawl into the tightest, deepest parts of the mine

on their hands and knees,

dragging a sledge full of coal like a tiny, choking horse.

Oh, you used to love playing horses, didn't you, William?

This harness should fit.

Oh, our little lad. What's he like in the dark?

I'm scared there's monsters.

Don't worry, the mine's pitch-black,

so if there are monsters, you won't be able to see them.

See, nothing to worry about.

Now, look sharp - your shift starts in ten minutes.

Don't be late.

But Mum, what about school? School?

School's not for people like us, love. You're lucky you were born

just after they raised the age to 11.

Alfie, Thomas and Zack all had to go down the mines

when they were age six. Who are they? Your brothers.

They're still down there. Somewhere.

You can say hello if you see them.

Or hear them, I should say. Oh!

I nearly forgot, this... is for you.

At least you got me a birthday present.

It's to keep the coal dust out of your lungs. And William...

BOTH: Happy Birthday.

Are there times in your day when you need to know what the time is?

Are there times in your day when you find time is against you?

Then it's time for you to get the new incense clock

from 11th-century Song dynasty China.

Sandlewood...

It's nearly lunchtime.

Let your nose tell you the time,

as the clock burns different fragrances

at different times of the day.

I must remember to pick up the kids from school

at a quarter to cinnamon.

The incense clock. Time has never smelled better.

Mmm, what does that burning smell mean?

It means you've left the oven on.

Argh!

It's Wednesday afternoon,

and following a highly-spirited star versus pupils football match,

headteacher Mrs Thomas urgently needs a supply teacher

for the final two lessons of the day - English and PE.

This is Historical Educating.

I really outdid myself.

Our new supply teacher

is not only one of the greatest sportsmen of all time,

but some knights like to write poetry.

So... double tick.

Our pupils can learn a lot from such a noble man.

I am William Marshal, and today

I will be teaching you all how to attack people from behind.

But sir, this is English.

We're supposed to be practising essay-writing. Hah!

Writing's for mugs.

You need to get in your daily exercise.

You need to learn to fight.

We normally just do sports, like running or rounders.

Ha, nonsense.

The point of sport, or physical education,

is preparing for war.

So, choose your weapon.

THEY GASP

Wow, no way!

Best teacher ever.

Now you're all heavily armed, let's play a tournament.

First to conquer the school wins.

Go, go, go!

CHILDREN CHEER

They call him the greatest knight in history.

TEARFULLY: And he's teaching at our school.

CHILDREN SHOUT

Death to homework!

SHOUTING

If... if you'd excuse me for a second.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Don't poke with it, it's not a stick.

You bash them with it until their helmets are so squashed,

they can't get them off.

Happened to me, lads.

Happened to me twice.

Uh, William? Can I have a word, please? Yes, yes. Why not?

Ooh. I captured the teacher.

Ah. Did he have a horse?

No. Ah, that's a shame, we could have kept it.

Never mind, send him back to his family.

What? That's how I made my money. We do not arm children!

You're fired. Please get off the premises immediately.

CHILDREN SHOUT Please!

Mrs Thomas has since agreed with Ofsted

that medieval knights working in English or games department

are not a good thing.

Ah, I wish my school had had knights for teachers.

All we ever did was the three Rs -

reading, writing and running away from cats.

CAT SQUEALS, HE CACKLES

So, once school and work are done, it's dinner time.

BELL RINGS My favourite bit of the day.

But what time is dinner?

You see, throughout history,

the times at which we've eaten our meals,

and even what we've actually called those meals, have kept changing.

Hmm.

Four historical strangers, one meal, so many different names.

What could possibly go wrong?

It's 9:30 in the morning

and despite there still being ten hours till dinner,

late 19th-century icon and founder of nursing, Florence Nightingale,

is hard at work in the kitchen. What can I say?

I like to be organised. KNOCK ON DOOR

That'll be the postman. She'll be lucky.

Just ten hours early, it's her first guest,

11th-century king and warrior, William the Conqueror.

Darling, I hope I'm not late. Late?

You're coming for dinner and it's three hours before lunch.

Lunch was invented till hundreds of years after he died, lamp lady -

good luck explaining that one.

Well, I've no idea what lunch is,

but in the Middle Ages, dinner is at ten in the morning.

And I'm hungry, and...

...let's get this over with.

I've got a lot of conquering to do.

It's ridiculous. Everybody knows, ten in the morning,

yum, yum, dinner time.

Ow! But I'm hungry!

You'll have to wait for your dinner. It's only noon

and nobody else will be here until at least...

KNOCKING

Second to arrive and only seven-and-a-half hours early

is Tudor writer William Shakespeare.

Hi.

Nice to see you. Sorry I'm late. Doing some blooming rewrites.

Late? Yeah. It's only lunchtime. You're early.

Oh. Sorry, what's lunchtime?

Oh, dear.

So I'm hoping lunchtime, whatever that is, is over soon,

because I am getting hangry.

That's a fusion of two words, hungry and angry.

I'm a wordsmith. We'll take thy word for it, William.

Summer's lease hath all too short a date,

and if dinner doesn't come soon, we'll starve at this rate.

Well, at least my last guest will be here on time.

KNOCKING Surely dinner guest number three

will be an improvement.

No, it's 18th-century pirate, Blackbeard.

SLURRING: Alas, ye landlubbers!

Send ye to Davy Jones' locker, so I will.

I beg your pardon?

I am so sorry. People normally expect a bit of a show.

Yeah, I'm just not sure that Florence got on board

with the whole pirate thing. Tough crowd.

I'm not late, am I? Much obliged.

We usually have dinner at 2pm so, uh, I'm starving.

In my play Twelfth Night, I wrote,

"If music be the food of love, play on."

Well, if food be important to a dinner party,

then don't go to this one.

Why have I got to wait four hours? Dinner's in the afternoon.

That's supper. Dinner's at midday.

No, dinner is early in the morning. That's breakfast.

As I say in one of my sonnets...

One more word about your sonnets and I'll cut off your head.

Yeah, and I'll set fire to your beard.

OK, I think I see the problem. In the Middle Ages,

breakfast was when you woke up and dinner was at breakfast time.

Then in the 16th century, dinner was lunch and supper was dinner.

Then in the 18th century breakfast was at breakfast time,

nothing was for lunch, dinner was at tea time

and supper was in the evening. Tea time?

What in the...? Then from the Victorian times when I was around,

breakfast was at breakfast time,

lunch was at lunchtime, tea was at tea time, dinner was at dinner time.

So, if anybody isn't happy eating dinner when we Victorians ate it,

you can leave.

Well, that's them told. Oooh!

Join us next time, when it's all back to Blackbeard's flagship

The Queen Anne's Revenge for dinner.

We're having a traditional pirate-voyage meal

of stale bread infested with weevils

and meat so old and dry you could carve it into buttons.

Yeah, I think I'm washing my hair then.

Bon voyage, land lovers.

Now, at some point in the day,

you're going to need to go, er... FLIES BUZZING

...for a number two.

And if you're my dad, it will probably be after dinner.

And you'll be in there an hour.

Now, in modern times, you've got toilets for all that.

But in the Middle Ages, most of us didn't.

And that gave one man an idea for a whole new career.

That dinner was delightful. Well, you certainly enjoyed yourself.

Not sure three helpings of cabbage was a good idea.

Well, it's not every day you get to visit...

STOMACH GROWLS

Oh, dear. You're just going to have to hold it.

I don't think I can hold it. Greetings, friend.

'Tis I, Loo Man,

AKA the Caped Convenience, AKA The Walking Water Closet,

AKA The Living Little Boys' Room.

I come when people need to go.

Whatever. Gangway!

FARTING Aaah!

FARTING CONTINUES

Excuse me, do not use the cape to wipe on.

Use the glad rags provided.

Unbelievable.

Thank you.

Whoever you are. I told you, I'm Loo Man.

Your bill. Oh.

Didn't realise there'd be any charge.

Do you think people do this for fun?

How much?! That's daylight robbery!

Overcharging again, Thomas Butcher? Do not reveal my secret identity.

It's not much of a secret! People can smell you coming a mile off.

Look, he's charged us a shilling to spend a penny.

I think you'll find I didn't do anything, officer.

Didn't do anything? What is that, then?

Where did this come from? Are poos falling from the sky?

That was in there when I went in.

He's lying, it's still warm.

You're coming with me - overcharging again.

STOMACH GROWLS Oh, no, no, no, no, no!

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Keep the change.

Aaaah!

FARTING I might be in here a while.

Have you got a bigger bucket?

FARTING

Getting paid for poo...

Ah...

Thomas Butcher was living the dream.

And the time for dreams is nearly here, as It's almost bedtime.

But first, our daily wash.

Back in the past, a wash a day wasn't always considered

the done thing, even for Royals.

Seriously, I preferred it back then.

Much stinkier.

HE LAUGHS

Ready to be dressed for bed, my queen?

Five more minutes.

Another bath, Your Majesty?

She only had one last month.

And I'll have one next month.

A bath a month, whether I need it or not.

Isn't that right, Mr Swanny?

Mr Swanny says, "Yes, that's right," and I know best

because I'm The Queen.

SHE FARTS

WATER BUBBLES

GASPING: Mr Swanny!

Her Majesty mustn't take so many baths.

They're bad for you.

Well, I like them.

Yes, we know that.

We have to carry a portable one around with us

every time you want to travel.

That thing is not easy to lift on to the cart.

All I ask is for a little Royal me-time once a month

in a nice bath, to take my mind off unhappy thoughts like...

...beheading ungrateful servants who keep picking on me.

Quite right, your Royal beautifulness.

Be a treasure and wash my hair, would you? Certainly, ma'am.

SERVANT SINGS

Ahh.

I'll bring it back when it's done.

Who'd have thought it?

Dinner with Samuel Pepys.

HE CHUCKLES Such a wonderful evening.

Very good to meet you.

Thank you for agreeing to share a bed.

Well, needs must, Mr Pepys. Much too late to travel home, so here I am.

We both are.

Well, goodnight.

Let's have a little chat.

What? Tell me, do you always go for that side of the bed?

Is it, like, a superstitious thing?

What's your favourite sleeping position?

Like, how do you normally drift off and go to sleep?

In a quiet room with the lights off. I'm exactly the same!

We're perfect bedfellows. So hard to find a match, don't you think?

It would certainly seem that way.

Same religion, same class... And obviously, both men or both women.

And imagine having a bedfellow who wanted to talk all night.

I'm imagining it and it's very annoying!

SAMUEL LAUGHS HEARTILY I'm just going to turn over and...

...close my eyes.

Funny story.

I was staying at someone's house, got up in the middle of the night,

couldn't find the loo anywhere and did a poo in the fireplace.

HE LAUGHS You couldn't write it!

Sweet dreams.

Oh, bother...

WHISPERING LOUDLY: Sorry...

I forgot to do my daily diary entry.

Won't take a second.

"Dear diary...

"I have a new bedfellow.

"He seems nice.

"Brackets, bit of a chatterbox.

"Roars sleepily..." Ugh!

Where are you going?

Somewhere I might actually get some sleep.

William, I wouldn't sleep there if I were you.

Have you pooed in the fireplace again?

Sweet dreams!

Urgh!

HE YAWNS

The sun has set and I'm off to sleep.

I've got a comfy bed and a poo in the fireplace.

Reminds me of the sewer.

So it's just what I need to help me nod off.

It's a rat thing.

But I'm not the only one with weird bedtime rituals.

Just ask the Tudors.

Night, night.

♪ Give your hair a toss, check for lice

♪ Darling, how you feeling, cos it's time for bed

♪ Yeah, toss, check for lice

♪ Nothing feeling creepy, then it's time for bed

♪ Woo, child, hanging out the bed poo

or it should do

♪ Yes, girl, have some of this too

♪ Lettuce on your temples, that'll help you sleep through

♪ Nightcap for beddy-byes

♪ Block the moon's rays

♪ And you know why

♪ If you want to live to be old

♪ Don't let the moon's rays make you cold

♪ I'll wrap you in cloth

♪ Check your limbs

♪ Gotta keep you straight

♪ Put it round your head

♪ Sleep lots, rest's good for you

♪ But if you get too much

♪ You'll be ill in bed

♪ Yes, it's time for bed

♪ Darling, how you feeling?

♪ Yes, it's time for bed... ♪

SHE RAPS: Woo, Gran, need to kick off your boots

Now just take a deep breath and let's focus on you

Got these red drapes, here's what we Tudors do

Girl, cos you've had a fever, gonna draw around you

♪ Grandad, just close your eyes

♪ Sleep in this chair

♪ Sing lullabies

♪ Might feel strange but if you sleep upright

♪ That will help digest your food tonight

♪ We think sleeping propped up straight

♪ Will stop us getting tummy ache

♪ Check for lice

♪ Are you getting sleepy?

♪ Cos it's time for bed

♪ Here comes my advice

♪ Don't sleep on your belly

♪ On your back

♪ Just don't go there

♪ Makes phlegm go to your brain and you'll get nightmares

♪ If you can't see the sun no more

♪ Then let me hear you start to snore

♪ If you have sleep loss

♪ That's not nice

♪ You know what I'm saying ♪ And it's time for bed

♪ Yeah, boss, check for lice

♪ Tell me, how you feeling? ♪ Like it's time for bed

♪ Dung pot tempts the lice

♪ So we don't get bitten but it makes me wretch

♪ Yes, boss, check for lice

♪ Can we go to sleep now?

♪ Yes, it's time for bed. ♪

SNORING

Be natural.

Can you control...

THEY LAUGH

Thank you. Whoever you are.

I told you I was Poo Man.

Loo man.

♪ The past is no longer a mystery

♪ Hope you enjoyed...

♪ ..Horrible Histories. ♪