Original subtitles

♪ Terrible Tudors, Gorgeous Georgians

♪ Slimy Stuarts, Vile Victorians

♪ Woeful wars, Ferocious fights

♪ Dingy castles, Daring knights

♪ Horrors that defy description, Cutthroat Celts, awful Egyptians

♪ Vicious Vikings, cruel crimes, Punishment from ancient times!

♪ Roman, 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 ♪

[NARRATOR READING]

Much of the First World War was fought in the trenches

and life in the trenches was truly frightful.

-Eh, up. -Billy Boy! Welcome to the trenches.

Thanks Charlie. I'm just going to drop my kit bag in my bedroom.

-I'm desperate for the toilet. -Of course, go ahead.

Where is the bedroom?

-Well, you're in it. -You what?

Only the officers get a separate dugout. The rest of us sleep on the floor, in the mud.

[RATS SQUEAKING]

-Oh! -With the rats.

Oh, disgusting! Where are the toilets?

It's over there, behind the trenches.

Though, rule one. Never, ever...

[EXPLOSION]

[COUGHING]

As I was saying, never use the toilets first thing in the morning.

The Germans know that we tend to go then,

so they always fire shells at the toilet sheds,

try and catch us with our trousers down. So to speak.

-Righto. -So we tend use the bucket.

You know, I think I'll just hold it in.

Can't say I blame you. So then, rule two...

[GUNSHOT]

Never poke your head up above the trenches.

Oh, mommy! That was close!

Hey, give us a sip of that brew, calm me nerves.

Rule three, watch out for the water.

Yeah, we put chloride and lime in it to kill the germs.

-Good. -Yeah, not if you're not used to it, though.

Tends to give you very bad diarrhoea.

[STOMACH GURGLING]

[GROANS] Gangway!

[EXPLOSION]

-I think somebody forget rule one. -Right.

I won't be a minute.

Just for the record, Billy, rats are not disgusting.

Unsavoury, perhaps, but not disgusting.

Yes, life in the trenches was hard, and when you didn't have much,

you had to make good use of what you'd got.

Hi, I'm a shouty man,

and I'm here to tell you about the multi-purpose liquid revolution.

New World War One Wee-wee.

-Wee-wee? -Yes, wee-wee.

Are your hard army boots giving you blisters?

-Aye, happen they are. -Then just soften up that tough leather

with new World War One Wee-wee.

Wow, that feels much better. They feel like slippers now.

Well, slippers that have been weed on.

Is your machine gun overheating?

-Aye, happen it is. -Run out of water?

Aye, happen I have.

Then just cool it down with new World War One Wee-wee.

Watch out, incoming! Gas attack!

-Mislaid your gas mask? -Aye, happen I have.

Then wee on a hankie and wrap it round your nose and mouth.

[GROANS IN DISGUST]

This will protect you against some poisonous gases, not all of them.

Are you sure these gasses are worse than the stench of wee?

Pretty sure. Yes, that's new World War One Wee-wee.

Wee for victory, boys. And how much does it cost?

Why, one pee, of course.

[NARRATOR READING]

You won't believe it, but some of the first warriors

to invade Britain were actually invited over.

Hello, and welcome to Invasion, Invasion, Invasion.

This week, we're looking for somewhere in mainland Britain,

for two Saxon brothers, Hengest and Horsa, to take over.

Let's go and meet them. Hengest, Horsa,

I've brought you here to the Island of Thanet, just off the coast of Kent.

I think it ticks all your boxes, but what do you think?

Well, it's a little bit small.

Ah, that is a shame because the vendor,

Vortigern, King of the Britons, is willing to offer you this for free.

I should hope so, he owes us big time for helping him drive up the pigs back to Scotland.

Y, we're really good at fighting, you know.

-Well, I am anyway. -Your not as good as me.

How can you say that? I'm the best at fighting!

So, anyway, we do really need somewhere bigger.

-Where did you have in mind? -Kent.

Ooh, lovely! Whereabouts in Kent?

-Kent. The whole of Kent. -Whole of Kent.

Hengest and Horsa have their hearts set on the whole of Kent.

But first, they'll have to negotiate with the current owner,

Vortigern, King of the Britons.

Oh, okay you're sure.

We'll give you nothing for it.

Well, that's a toughie. I'm going to have to say no.

-You drive a hard bargain. -How about if I offer you...

-My daughter, Rowena. -Ah, yes, it's a deal.

-Do I get a say in this? -No, probably not.

Well, that's great. We've got them exactly what they wanted.

You know, thinking about it, Kent does still feel a bit small.

We'd like somewhere bigger than this, please.

So, are you going to offer me more attractive daughters?

-I have a cousin but... -We thought we could offer you this.

-We're really good at fighting. -Well, I am, anyway.

-You're not as good as me! -I won that competition!

Ah! Come back, British king!

Negotiations over further land have got a bit out of hand.

In fact, they've turned into an all-out war

and Horsa has been forced to pull out of the deal.

[EXCLAIMS]

I told you I was a better fighter than him.

In an effort to finalise negotiations,

Hengest has invited Vortigern over for a peace banquet.

Right, just lay the table.

So spoon here, knife, in the back of their necks!

Ah, dinner! How civilised. So much better than fighting, I find.

-Shall I carve? -Yes.

And there's no food, There's no food!

So he killed everybody, then asked me whether I wanted to die,

and, I gave him the whole of the south-east of England.

Mmm, tough negotiator.

-So, Hengest. Happy? -Yeah, for sure.

Good. Well, it just goes to show you can move right up the property ladder

if you've got a good eye for a bargain.

And you're really good at fighting.

See you next week.

Hopefully.

History and legend are a bit mixed-up in the story

of Hengest and Horsa, so it's probably only about 50% accurate.

But historians generally agree that Hengest turned a peace banquet

with Vortigern into a murderous rampage.

The rat knows all.

[NARRATOR READING]

Greetings, my devotees of dread.

I am Vincenzo Larthos and this week's scary story

is from Stuart times. The Tale Of Evil Edmund.

It was 1632 when Edmund, a young lad,

from the blood curling county of Lancashire,

first realised that he had the gift of being able to spot a witch.

[CACKLING SOUND]

[IMITATING CACKLING] Indeed.

One day, Edmund was playing on the moors

when he spotted two dogs trailing chains.

He tried to get the dogs to hunt, but they would not

so he beat them with a stick and suddenly they turned into men.

MAN: Hello, there.

-That's our "men" sound effect, is it? -MAN: Hello, there.

It's not very good.

Of course, Edmund knew at once that this must be witchcraft.

And for reasons he could not explain, he immediately knew who the witch was.

It was his next-door neighbour, Frances Dickinson.

Edmund rushed to confront the witch, but she tied him up

and dragged him to a witch's coven,

where he saw for himself all the witches and warlocks,

feasting and chanting.

And he was afraid that the high point

of their sinister ceremony would be a sacrifice. Edmund himself!

[DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING]

Edmund fought his way loose of his shackles and ran to the local magistrate.

In no time, the neighbour was arrested and sentenced to death.

Edmund became the stuff of legend. Able to identify any witch.

He was paid handsomely for his unique gift

and what fate would befall these foul witches and warlocks of that cruel coven?

Well, they were all released without charge.

What?

It turned out Edmund was a liar.

He made up all the stuff about witches.

His dad made him do it to make money!

There were no dogs in the first place

and the lady next door was let out of jail with an apology!

This is not a scary story. That's an annoying child story.

Right, I'm not doing this any more.

I've played Macbeth you know, Macbeth, I gave a semi-competent performance.

That's not me saying that, that's the Wolverhampton Gazette.

I'm better than this.

[WOMAN READING]

The Stuarts really had some silly ideas about medicine.

Don't worry, Paul. I've called an ambulance.

Make way! Make way! Make way! Make way.

Make way! Make way! Historical Paramedics. What seems to be the problem?

It's my friend. He said his stomach hurt...

-Plague! It sounds like plague. -Plague!

-No, it isn't. -It's nearly always plague, where we come from.

-And where's that? -The Stuart Era.

What do you think, Jack? Tobacco pipe or a gold coin in the mouth.

It's not plague. We don't even have plague any more.

Then how do you explain these red marks, woman?

-Could be measles. Nigel, go and get Flossy. -Could be measles.

-What's Flossy? -I think you mean, who's Flossy.

-Here she is. -That's a sheep.

Yes, and we need to get her in bed with this boy while she's still warm.

-It's the best cure for measles. -It's not measles, he's had the vaccine.

The vac what?

Madam, if it be not measles, then why does he have spots on his face?

Because he's a teenager? Please help him, he's in pain.

-What be his name? -Paul.

[YELLING] Where do ye hurt, Paul?

I told you, his belly aches.

Belly ache. Do you think it could be belly ache?

-We should stone him, just to be sure. -Stone him?

It's fine. We lay a large stone on his belly,

one upon which the sun has never shone. We get them mainly from Scotland.

I could only find this extra large one.

[GROANS]

-That didn't sound good. -No.

-Nigel, get the resuscitator. -Oh, you have a resuscitator?

Yes. A tobacco resuscitator.

Good. Now, get the bellows and blow smoke up his bottom.

-What? -Turn him over, Nigel.

Oh, it's no good, there seems to be a massive stone on top of him.

Blast! Why are there always complications?

[SIREN WAILING]

-We should leave. -Madam, I'm sorry. We've done all we can do.

You've made him worse!

Yes, that's pretty much all we can do.

-Run away. -Run away! Run away!

Oh, no! Those historical ones have been here again, haven't they?

Jane? Jane, get some sponges, and a crowbar.

And the winner of this year's Most Ridiculous Historical Cure Award

goes to the Stuart's tobacco resuscitators.

[CHEERING]

Will the inventor please come up and collect his prize?

[THUDDING]

Looks like he's fainted with shock.

Quick! Someone blow smoke up his bottom! It won't work but it sounds funny.

Blow smoke up his bottom!

[LAUGHING]

[NARRATOR READING]

♪ Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

♪ They're funny 'cause they're true

♪ Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

♪ Hope next time it's not you

What, this old thing? No, I've had it ages.

About 600 years. Next! Name!

James II of Scotland. Son of James I, father of James III.

James I, James II, James III.

Not very imaginative, you Scottish royals, are you?

What you lot need is this.

Death's Big Book Of Baby Names.

Over two copies sold.

Well, James, let's hear your story.

The stupider the better, please.

Right, well, we Scots were beseeching Roxburgh castle,

which was a Scottish castle being held by the English.

[SNORING]

Now, to ensure victory,

I'd brought along the very latest in modern medieval warfare, a cannon.

-Ooh, a cannon! -Of course, in my day,

they'd a nasty habit of blowing up in your face.

Oh, goody! My cannon was from Flanders.

It had special thick metal hoops to prevent the barrell from splitting.

-I called it The Lion. -Well, at least you didn't call it James.

I was dying to see the Lion in action

so I had it taken up to the castle walls.

-Yes? -My men warned me to take cover.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I said, "This is The Lion. It won't explode.

"It's the greatest cannon in the world."

And?

The cannon exploded, my leg was shattered, I died of blood loss.

[LAUGHING]

The Lion bit you! Well, they do do that, don't they?

They do do that!

[LAUGHING] Priceless.

Well, James, you're through to the afterlife.

-Thanks. That's great. -Ah, priceless.

Ooh, don't forget your book.

Oh, he doesn't want one. Rats.

Could have sold another copy.

Oh, well. Next!

♪Stupid deaths, stupid deaths,

♪ Hope next time it's not you

And James II wasn't the only medieval Scot to meet a grisly end.

[ROCK MUSIC PLAYING]

♪ I am William Wallace my life was a mystery

♪ Some say born 1272 Some say 1263

♪ Was that Malcolm of Paisley Maybe Alan from Ayr

♪ Did I have a wife or no Do you really care?

♪ They said I had a big red beard, but all you need to know

♪ I was a Scottish rebel and the English were my foe

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ This is war I cried

♪ Many English fought me

♪ And many English died

♪ I took against the English back when I was fairly wee

♪ 'Cause an Englishman called Selby bullied my whole family

♪ It upset me so I struck him dead, well, wouldn't you?

♪ An English sheriff came along Guess what, I killed him too

♪ They say he killed my wife so he deserved what he got

♪ Then England's King Ed came for me, oh, I'm scared, not!

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ Possibly six-foot-seven

♪ But all that really matters is

♪ I send Englishmen to heaven

♪ 40,000 English came to Stirling Bridge for me

♪ They had to cross a narrow bridge, to get to us, you see

♪ We held them off and pushed them back, it was no contest

♪ Bridge collapsed, hundreds drowned, of course I killed the rest

♪ I celebrated Stirling Bridge Another Scottish win

♪ By decorating my sword with the English general's skin

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ Scottish legend too

♪ Fought for Scottish freedom

♪ Was a hero through and through

♪ Here's where my rebel story comes unstuck

♪ At Falkirk defeated I'd run out of luck

♪ Spent seven years playing hide and seek

♪ Captured central London Tried for treason, what a cheek

♪ King Ed hanged me then a lovely touch

♪ Pulled my guts out Guess he didn't like me much

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ In Scotland my heart lived

♪ Though sadly my head wound up

♪ On a spike on London Bridge

Ooh, that smarts!

[NARRATOR READING]

When Henry VIII died, his son Edward VI came to power,

aged just nine. But he died only six years later

and after that, it wasn't clear who would take the throne.

ANNOUNCER: Are you a Protestant? Are you vaguely related to Henry VIII?

Is your name Lady Jane Grey?

Then you've won our star prize!

You're going to experience what it's like to be Queen for nine days.

Wow!

That's nine whole days in charge of England.

Here's what you get. Day one, we set you up in royal apartments

at the Tower of London to await your coronation.

Ooh, this is nice, I could get used to this.

ANNOUNCER: I don't think so.

Day two, we throw in a crown for free. Go on, try it on for size.

Okay, what harm can it do?

ANNOUNCER: You'll find that out on day nine.

-Sorry? -ANNOUNCER: Nothing.

Day three, it's coronation time.

Now you're the Queen, you get to go out and meet your public.

-They don't even know who you are. -We don't even know who she is.

ANNOUNCER: They were expecting a different person to be queen.

We were expecting a different person to be queen.

-ANNOUNCER: We smell of wee -We smell of...

Ah, I see what you're trying to do there.

Actually, we do.

Day four, you send a letter to Henry VIII's daughter, Mary Tudor

asking her to recognise you as queen.

-Fingers crossed. -ANNOUNCER: Day five, you get Mary's reply.

-What does it say? What? -Bog off.

Well, that's the gist of it.

ANNOUNCER: Day six, relax and take in the luxurious surroundings,

while Mary Tudor amasses an army to have you removed from power.

What?

Day seven, relax and take in the luxurious surroundings.

-Like I could be any less relaxed. -Ma'am.

Our armies have been defeated in Cambridge by Mary Tudor.

She says she's the Queen now and she's marching on London.

Okay, so now I'm less relaxed.

Day eight, relax and take in the luxurious surroundings.

Enough of this relaxing nonsense, okay?

I'll have you know, I'm so stressed my skin is peeling off.

Oh, yuck! That's not very regal, is it?

And day nine, relax and...

Oh, all right, panic as the people support Mary Tudor

as their rightful queen and all your supporters desert you

to save their own skins.

Too late for yours, it's all peeled off anyway.

-Well, this can't get any worse. -Yes, it can.

And this fantastic offer ends in true Tudor style,

with a visit to the executioner.

I never wanted to be queen in the first place.

With queen for nine days,

the shortest reign in history is yours, whether you want it or not.

Warning, limited to nine days only. Offer expires in 1553.

That's right, Lady Jane Grey was queen for just nine days.

After which Mary I was queen for five years and 121 days.

Followed by Elizabeth I,

who reigned for an impressive 44 years and 127 days,

making her the longest-reigning Tudor queen by miles and miles.

And miles were very confusing in Tudor times.

-Are we there yet? -Alas not, your majesty.

-Are we there yet? -Alas not, your majesty.

-But I'm bored. -Indeed, your majesty.

Sadly, the journey from York to London is many, many English miles

and, well, we've only just set off.

-London miles. -Excuse me?

Well, since we are heading to London,

surely her majesty would like the distance in London miles?

What's the difference?

Well, the English mile is a rather confusing 6,610 yards,

whereas the more refined London mile, is a nice round 5000.

Of course both are vastly preferable to the vastly stingy Irish mile.

A mere 2,240 yards.

Why not use a good old Welsh mile? It's a whopping 7,900 yards, no?

It means fewer miles overall, makes the journey seem a lot shorter.

I remember I did a walking trip in Scottish miles once.

1,976 yards.

Indeed. It seemed to go on forever.

They were all like, "Oh, it's only a few more miles."

And I was like, "Is that English miles, London miles,

"Welsh miles or Irish miles?" And they were like,

"Well, depends if you mean London yards,

Welsh yards, Scottish yards..."

[SCREAMS]

From now on, there will just be one mile for everyone.

-Pick a number between one and ten. -One.

-Seven. -Six.

Right. From now on, one mile will be 1,760 yards.

-Is that...? -English yards! Normal English yards. Understood?

-ALL: Yes, your majesty. -Right, how many miles is it to London?

[ALL SPEAKING]

And you wonder why I cut so many heads off!

Are we there yet?

Alas not, your majesty.

[NARRATOR READING]

Hello and welcome to The News At When. When? 1789,

when the people of France decided that King Louis XVI

and his rich friends had been living the high life, at their expense.

For long enough and that it was time for common people to run the country.

Here with more details is Bob Hail with the French revolution report. Bob.

Thank you, Sam. Well, sacre bleu me,

if that isn't France, which it is, if it's not the 1780's

which it is, and if that right there isn't a very angry Frenchman.

Which it is. And he's got every right to be, because back then,

France was a country of le haves and le have-nots.

The posh people had fine food, fancy clothes, palaces and helicopters

while the poor people, like this chap, didn't even have the bread on their table.

But how can the... What? I don't think I did say helicopters.

But how do these poshos afford all that stuff, I hear you ask?

By taking money from poor taxpayers, like our friend here,

and borrowing even more money from other countries.

Which means that, by 1789, France is riddled with debt

and most French people are penniless and hungrier than an alligator on the moon.

All while King Louis XVI and his posh chums are living it up, big style.

Terrible, but that's just the way things are.

Not a lot you can do about it, right?

Wrong!

The commoners hatch a plan to remove the king

and run the country themselves, which signals the start of the one and only,

the world famous, ladies and gentlemen, it's the French Revolution.

Vive le revolution!

Sorry, I get a bit carried away.

The revolutionaries don't hang around. They storm the Bastille,

a famous fortress in Paris, partly to show the king

who's boss and partly to steal a load of explosives.

[EXPLOSION]

Well, that's angry mobs for you. So King Louis, fearing for his life,

dresses up as a Russian aristocrat's butler, a bit weird and runs off to hide up here

in a place called, something or other. A cunning plan that works this much.

Yup, not at all. The King's captured, brought back to Paris and told he's not in charge.

He keeps the Crown, but loses most of his power and influence.

And helicopters and that's... What? I didn't say helicopters!

Things go from bad to worse for King Louis.

In 1792, France declares war on Austria, a neighbouring country

who want the revolutionaries out and the King back in

They told the revolutionaries, if they don't put the King back in,

they'll start doing some pretty horrible things to the French people.

A very clever tactic that works this much.

Yup, not at all.

Turns out the Revolutionaries hate being told what to do.

They ignore the threat, accuse the King of plotting with Austrians

and cut his head off. They cut his wife's head off.

Then they just get a bit carried away, cutting heads off left, right and centre,

declaring anyone who doesn't agree with everything

they say as an enemy of the revolution, a crime punishable by, yes, you've guessed it,

having your head cut off. In fact, if we look at the head-cutting-off-ometer

we can see that somewhere between 16 and 40,000 heads were cut off in just two years.

So many in fact, that they not only broke our thingy,

but they had to invent a new head-cutting-off thingy, called the guillotine.

So at that time, it was all, "Cut his head off! Cut her head off!"

Finally, after five long years and lots of heads being cut off,

the people of France said, "Stop cutting people's heads off!"

And they took the man responsible for most of the heads being cut off,

and you guessed it, they cut his head off.

And that's the end of the French Revolution,

the end of French royalty and if I don't get a cup of tea and biscuit

in the next three seconds, it might very well be the end of...

Oh, thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you.

Ah, that feels so much better!

You know, now I think of it, I did say helicopter, didn't I?

I think I just need a holiday.

Sam, couple of weeks in the Maldives?

One of the young officers to make his name

under the new French regime was a certain Napoleon Bonaparte,

and in 1797, he sent an army to invade Wales

because there were no British regiments there to defend it.

Let's join Mike Peabody in to find out more.

I'm here with one of the 1,400 French force,

known as La Legion Noire, the Black Legion.

Napoleon picked you for this invasion, you must be the very best.

Ah, no, no. The very worst.

No, the best are busy fighting in Europe.

La Legion Noire is made up of convicts

who are given the option of fighting or rotting in jail.

[HUSHING]

Pardon, excuse moi, We had a little party last night,

lots of food, lots of wine...

They are sleeping it off.

But shouldn't you be preparing for battle? I mean,

the English could repel your invasion at any moment.

No, I tell you we are completely safe.

My spies tell me there are no British forces for a 100 miles

and I will stake my reputation on that.

Sir, I think the British army are coming over the hill.

[LAUGHS] There goes my reputation.

Okay, then. All right. Allez, allez, allez!

Come, this is the moment we have trained for!

They are upon us. On my orders,

surrender!

I think it's just women, though.

Are you sure, they are dressed in red. You cannot be too careful.

-Why've they got their hands up? -I think they're surrendering to you.

Surrendering to us? Why, we just came down to the beach

to see what Frenchmen look like.

I think it's your red jackets. From a distance,

your jackets make you look a bit like the British army.

Well, this is just traditional women's dress in Wales.

I'd keep that under your hats, if I were you,

at least until you've tied them up.

Oh, good thinking. Come on girls, let's get these men tied up.

So there we have it. The very last invasion of Britain,

defeated by a few Welsh lady sightseers.

This is Mike Peabody, live from Fishguard for HHTV News,

back to you in the studio, Sam.

-Bonjour, mama! -Sorry, can you not do that waving, please?

Very irritating.

♪ Tall tales, Atrocious acts,

♪ We gave you all the fearsome facts

♪ The ugly truth no glam or glee

♪ We showed you all the juicy bits

♪ Gory, ghastly, mean and cruel

♪ Stuff they don't teach you at school

♪ The past is no longer a mystery

♪ Hope you enjoyed Horrible Histories ♪