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Terrible Tudors, gorgeous Georgians, Irish Jewards, the whole Victoria, Wopal
Wars, ferocious fights, dingy cartels, daring knights, horrors that divide,
description, cupro, topical, Egyptian, vicious, psychic, cruel, crime,
punishment, bromance, and dice, Roman, rotten, rank, and ruthless, cavemen,
savage, fierce, and toothless, groovy, Greek, brainy, Satan, mean, and loosely
middle -aged, gory, godly, mean, and cruel, stuff they don't teach you at
school, the past is no longer a mystery, welcome to Horrible
Histories.
Horrible Histories presents the gruesome gunpowder plot.
Hey! Yes, it's me, Guy Fawkes.
You know, Bonfire Night.
You had Bonfire Night thanks to me. You're welcome.
Although, if I'm honest, the whole country is celebrating the fact I got
captured and my plan's ruined. It's a little hurtful, especially as I'm
currently locked in the Tower of London. How did I get here? I'll tell you the
story. And it actually all begins 70 years before I got caught.
Henry VIII decided he wanted to divorce his wife, Catherine, and marry Anne
Boleyn. It's a Catholic church run by the Pope. Wouldn't allow!
I'll let him tell you all about it. Diss track.
It's an absolute banger.
The Pope is a guy God thinks he's fine. He's also a real good friend of mine.
Defender of the faith they call me, because I'm such a great Catholic.
See?
Then I got bored of Catherine.
I wanted to marry Anne.
The Pope said, cos I'm Catholic, I gotta be a one -woman man.
So, no, I don't want no Pope. The Pope is a guy that can't get no love from me.
Gonna split from the Catholics. Now the head of the English church is me.
I happy and pass the church on to my Protestant son.
Give him hell, Edward!
Awkward. Mary time.
There's Brother Eddie Perry.
Now the country's mine.
Cos I was brought up Catholic. I'll turn you back one more time. Cos how I love
the Pope. The Pope is the guy who repped my God for me.
And if you don't agree, that's totally fine.
I'll defer you for heresy.
Olivia!
Now Mary died, the country's mine.
How will we pray? I must decide. Born Protestant, raised with Catholics.
I really can't see both sides.
If I trust the Catholic, the whole church is mine.
If they don't obey me, I'll trust them, I have to be fine. No, no, I don't want
no Pope. The English church should all be about me.
They don't such a state.
That sounds great. Call it tax or supremacy.
I don't want no pope.
No, sorry.
But what will happen after me?
Well, I'll tell you what happened.
Elizabeth didn't have any heirs, so they put this guy on the throne.
King James VI of Scotland.
Oh, yeah.
I'm going to be the English king.
Not only is his dancing irritating, but he's a Protestant, which is doubly
annoying. Well, that didn't mean us Catholics weren't close by him. And I
very close.
Really hard to tell you this, bro.
With the people of Greenwich are talking.
This isn't about me weeing on the horse again.
Oh, yes, that. But also, like, maybe your wifey Anne has totally secretly
converted to... Catholicism.
You're wrong.
You're all wrong.
Brew!
Oh.
Hi, babe.
You okay?
Yeah.
Um, look, first off, this is super awkward for me, okay? Like, I'm not a
confrontationalist person.
I know, love how chill we are, babes. Yeah, but this rumour about you being a
secret Catholic, that's making me kind of unchill.
Oh, babes.
Uh, are those prayer beads?
Is that a Catholic rosary? James, you're so controlling of the fush up.
Just like a random gift from a good friend.
And is that friend a Catholic?
Um, maybe.
A bit.
Anne! How could you?
How could you? Wee on a horse. I did not wee on a horse! I wee'd off a horse! I
just so happened to be sitting on a horse when I did the wee! It's
different! It's embarrassing.
Embarrassing? You're a Catholic, love.
You know, I'm this close to ordering all Catholic priests to leave the country.
Thanks, Trudger. You pushed me to it.
Even though I hardly even knew any Catholic priests or anything at the
And babes' blessings.
Old Pope, we just wanted to know if you got that rosary he sent you. Now you're
such a massive paper.
Oui, oui, oui.
Those rosary beads are from the Pope.
Um, maybe a bud?
Right, that's it. All Catholic priests banned. Get out of my country, mate.
I would ask to borrow a horse, but I presume your saddle's still drying out?
Dad!
So, what with rumours of Anne secretly practising Catholicism and a couple of
attempts to kill King James, not by me, James decided to make it really hard for
us to be Catholics in England. Not only could we be fined for taking part in
mass, but Catholic priests were also banned from England altogether.
Yeah. Sorry, Jeff.
You've got to go.
Don't give me those puppy dog eyes.
This is goodbye.
Hey.
Unbelievable. We Catholics were very angry about all this, and some of us
over to Spain to ask their king for help in getting rid of our King James.
But they refused.
So it was time for me and a few other guys to take matters into our own hands.
Not you, Jeff.
I've seen him do weddings. He's bad on depression.
Remember, remember the 5th of November.
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
Well, meet the plotters.
This is our leader, Robert Catesby.
A rebel, true and true.
The kind of bloke that don't play by the rules. See?
Absolute rule -breaking ledge.
Most of the time.
Then there's my mate, Thomas Winter, Catesby's number two.
He's from a pretty tasty family. His uncle got home -drawn and courted just
being Catholic.
John Wright, a .k .a. The Muscle. The only thing he loves more than
is a fight.
And don't forget Thomas Percy, the inside man.
He's connected.
He's got money. He's got us a safe house, and he claims he can get us in
under the Houses of Parliament.
And boom, there's me, Guy Fawkes. I'm the explosives expert. I'm a schemer and
soldier, sold off my family inheritance and dedicated my life to the Catholic
cause and getting rid of King James.
I'm not afraid to be right in the mix if things go up in smoke.
Gentlemen, we're here to discuss overthrowing the tyrannical government
James and return a Catholic monarch to the English throne.
Now, the plot... Welcome to the Duck and Drake. Can I get you any drinks? We
have wine, cider, beer, ale. Ah, we're fine. I could go for an ale. Yeah, me
too. Yeah.
Fine. Five ales.
So, gentlemen, the plan...
is that we killed the king of... Yes.
Sorry.
Why are we meeting in a pub?
So we don't arouse suspicion.
To the casual observer, we're just friends.
Out having a drink.
But we're not.
We're not friends?
No. We're plotters, bringing about the downfall of the king.
That doesn't mean we can't be friends.
I mean, you and I are related.
Might be nice to hang out from time to time, you know, when we're not plotting.
John and I are brothers -in -law. We're not friends, but we are family.
Does that matter? No!
Now, back to business.
No one must... Five ales! Hey!
Look.
Once we assassinate the king, we... What do you want now?
Heidi, Heidi! Who else wants to ask you the same thing, sir?
What do you want?
Oh, we want to kill the king.
To eat. The specials are on the board.
Oh, great. I'm starving.
All right, I'll give you a couple of minutes.
So, gentlemen...
Once we kill the king, we ride up north to begin the revolt.
Armed with hundreds... Ring the bell!
What? It's a game where you toss a ring onto a ball as we go in the back. Ooh,
that sounds fun. We're not here to play any games.
Yeah, right. Why would you want to have fun with a relative who, it turns out,
doesn't even consider you a friend?
I just... I really misinterpreted what this relationship... Can we please
OK.
After. We kill the king. We travel up north.
We kidnap James's daughter, Elizabeth.
We convince her to convert to Catholicism. And then we make her Queen
England. Simple.
I'm sure I call it simple.
Any questions?
Yeah. Does the pie come with veg, or do we have to order that separate? About
the plot to kill the king. Carrots. What? Somebody asked about the pie.
It comes with carrots and peas.
Lovely. I'll have that.
Yes, me too. Three pies.
Gatsby, don't go off on a stop. I'm not.
I'm playing ring the bull.
Yeah, well, you need a friend to do that.
You know, a friend like we're not, apparently.
You really hurt my feelings when you said that, you know.
So,
during our night in the pub, we came up with a plan.
The idea is for one group to kill the king and his supporters here in London,
while the rest of us gather a rebel army in the Midlands and capture King
James's daughter.
Princess Elizabeth, so that when he's killed, we can put her on the throne as
our puppet.
Not that kind of puppet.
Out! Oh, give me strength.
This is where I'll be.
My job is to kill the king by blowing up the Houses of Parliament.
Our base is here, at Patesby's House on the south side of the tent, where we've
stored our gunpowder. It's our safe house.
As long as no one lights a match.
Now, we need to put the gunpowder under this building, the Houses of Parliament
over here.
So, we've got to get across the river and into Parliament.
That's why Thomas Percy rented us a house roughly here, by Parliament's
So, at night, we use boats to carry the gunpowder across the river from
Catesby's house to the house Percy's rented.
remembering not to light a match along the way. So, now we've got the gunpowder
on the right side of the river, hidden near Parliament.
What did I say about matches?
Next, we'll dig a tunnel from house to the cellars underneath Parliament, hide
the gunpowder there.
Then, when the King comes to open Parliament in front of all his friends,
laugh when it's OK to light the match and...
Okay, might need more than one barrel of powder.
Let's try a thousand.
Too much. Let's take 30. Perfect.
It's a flawless plan.
And all we have to do now is dig a tunnel.
Oh, and remember not to light any matches.
What could possibly go wrong?
So, that was the plan for the plot.
Or possibly the plot for the plan.
It was pretty good in theory, and we were on our way towards blowing up
Parliament, and with it, the King.
Success was just a short tunnel away.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
Hello, and welcome to Historical Amazingly Small Spaces.
Today, I'm here with Thomas Wittner, Guy Fawkes and Thomas Percy, who've taken
on the amazing challenge of extending this Westminster basement.
It's a lot of hard work, am I right, lads? Well, ever since we rented the
house... That was me, actually. That was my job. Hi.
We have been digging through the walls and propping the ceiling up with...
Piles of wood, often working 16 -hour days, so it's been back -breaking work.
But we've been well prepared. We've got a huge dash of dried meat and eggs, so
we never even have to leave.
Which is great, obviously.
Couldn't have chosen any food or an airless underground room, and he went
dried meat and eggs.
And with no windows, that is going to be trapped in here all day. All day.
So, what exactly is the build for?
So, we are reinforcing the basement walls because there was water leaking in
from the temps.
Well, at least that's what we're supposed to say if anyone asks, right?
But doesn't the tunnel go right underneath the House of Lords? How does
help? Well, it helps if you're trying to blow up Parliament.
Erm, we had no idea that the tunnel went under the House of Lords.
I thought it was the whole plan guy, wasn't it? Guy? Oh, no.
So you're not trying to dig under the House of Lords?
No. Why? Are you suspicious of something?
No, not at all.
For a second there, I thought you'd rented the wrong house.
So what do you mean?
Well, the house next door already has a cellar that goes right under the House
of Lords, so you could have just rented that one.
Does it?
Yeah, yeah. You wouldn't have had to do any digging at all.
Have a word for this, Tom.
Sorry, guys.
I haven't talked about anything.
Three months we've been digging this fart filth!
Sorry, I didn't know.
Oh, Aggie, nobody like a match.
What?
Oh, there's been 20 barrels of gunpowder we've got hidden down here, eh? Oh, no,
no, Winter, come here! Well, that is all we have time for today on historical,
amazingly small spaces.
I would just like to wish the lads all the luck in the world with... Well, to
honest, I'm still not entirely sure what it is they're doing.
They're blowing up the Houses of Parliament.
We'll soon look, all right!
again, James I of England or James VI of Scotland? You choose. I answer to both.
I was the innocent victim of this foul gunpowder plot, and I know who'd want to
blow up such a lovely face as this.
Some people are going to be in a lot of trouble. Anyway, there was one piece of
evidence that tipped me off about the plot on November 1st, 1605, but can you
tell me what it was?
Was it A.
Something I overheard whilst I was doing a poo?
B. A mysterious and cryptic letter I read.
Or C.
A man with a massive barrel of gunpowder asking me if I'd seen the king.
The answer is B.
I got hold of the Monteagle letter.
It was sent to Baron Monteagle and it mysteriously told him to stay away from
Parliament. The letter said that Parliament would receive a terrible blow
guessed someone was going to try and blow it up. So I ordered the building to
searched, thereby saving this handsome creature.
Honestly. You write one book about catching witches and they take it so
personally.
You're not a witch, are you? Hello?
Are you a witch?
Seriously, come over here.
Show me your witchy eyes. What?
I'm not obsessed, mate. You're obsessed.
Sorry to interrupt, mate.
Apparently some joker's trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament.
You haven't seen him around, have you?
Nope.
OK, fair enough. We'll leave you to it. Have a good night and... Hang on a
second.
That's a lot of firewood to be stacking right underneath the Houses of
Parliament. Is it?
I wasn't really, no. I'm just a lowly servant, man.
Looking after a cellar full of wood for my boss, Thomas Percy.
Fair enough.
Well, boys, it looks like nothing dodgy is going on here. Let us know if you see
anything strange. Will do.
Let's go find the guy. Yes.
What?
Is it Guy?
Is your name Guy?
No.
What's your name?
John. John what?
John. Son John Johnson.
My name's John Johnson.
John Johnson?
Yeah.
Lovely to meet you, John Johnson.
Good to meet you too.
Better let you get on with it. Let us know if you see anyone up to no good.
Johnson's your man.
Close one.
Proof, if ever, that God is on our side.
Nothing can stop us now.
We're stuck on one thing.
Wait a second, what's all this?
John Johnson, you are nicked! Drop that barrel of gunpowder!
I don't think that would be a very good idea.
You're probably right!
And there you have it, fireworks fans.
That's why I'm here.
Yes, my race is run. The king has me in his clutches.
But the rest of the guys, Catesby and co, are still on the loose.
Hopefully, they can turn this thing around.
I mean, while they've got some gunpowder, the gunpowder plot is still
baby!
Can't do any worse than old John Johnson here, can they?
Actually, they can.
Oh, come on!
With Guy Fawkes now captured, lead investigator Sheriff Richard Walsh and
men are hot on the trail of Catesby and his fugitive crew, including Thomas
Winter and Everett Digby.
OK, quick recap, guys.
Fawkes is out of the picture and Parliament is safe. But Robert Catesby
rest of the conspirators still want to start a rebellion.
So let's hunt them down.
Pretty obvious they'll head for the Midlands. And the weather's bad.
So we should look out for some soaking wet, stressed -out Catholics.
I'm stressed!
I'm super stressed!
Everything's ruined!
Come on, Winter! Take me!
Everything'll be fine! Will it, kids? This? Will it? It's our plans that's
up in smoke!
Or rather, it didn't. That was the old plan. Old plan? Yeah.
The new plan is that we lie low here at Holbeck House in Staffordshire, drum up
support and start a revolt.
They'll never see us coming.
They'll be lying low, drumming up support and trying to start a revolt.
Mr. Sanders.
Catesby's crew are drying out inside Holbeck House.
It's going great, guys.
We've got hundreds of willing men.
All the willing men have left.
Never mind.
There are a small group of willing men who can move fast and achieve a lot. I
tell you what, getting hold of those horses, now that was a stroke of luck.
We've got word of some stolen horses in Warren.
So let's go and check it out.
There's going to be fireworks.
Now that's how you dry gunpowder.
Look, I know I'm not the explosives expert, but I'm sure they were going to
remember about gunpowder and fire. How else are you meant to dry it? I don't
know. It doesn't work if it's wet, so we didn't have much of a choice.
Don't worry, it's perfectly safe.
Come on. Come on, man.
Surely you can see that the planets still work.
I can't see anything anymore.
Calm down.
They'll never find us.
We found them.
Do you think we should just give up?
Never. It's fine.
Don't worry about it.
It's all good.
Well, I guess that's okay to me.
Don't you think?
Bad luck, guys.
You've been hunted down.
And in some cases, shot.
What happened?
Did we win?
I'll take that as a no.
Yo, yo, Pink James in the house. And looky what we have here.
Mr. John Johnson.
If that is your real name.
A letter was found on your person addressed to one Guy Fawkes.
No comment.
Oh, don't worry.
I'll find out if you're telling the truth by allowing Sir William Weed and
men to use their powers of persuasion.
Persuasion, sir?
We usually talk to them. Yes, Weed, I was trying to be subtle and
Begin, Weed! Start lightly, getting more severe if you resist.
Very well, Majesty.
Oh, come on, then! Do your worst!
Uh -oh.
Tickle time.
Sir William.
I think threatening him with a feather is a little too light.
I'm very ticklish, though.
More than a feather.
Set him on fire?
No. What's the difference?
The wreck.
There we go.
That's the sort of thing.
Start with the manacles and work your way up. Now off to get tortured you go.
Oh, will you look at that?
Guy's no longer here to speak to you. I wonder why that is.
I'm trying to say we had him executed, and not in a nice way. But your friend
and mine, me, was very much alive and kicking.
Boo -yeah!
Now, the gunpowder plot was an epic fail, and it kind of felt like everyone
should celebrate that fact every year.
So me and my parliament made that a rule for November the 5th.
Faith! Ha ha ha, the fun we had. This is Jimmy on the Street. I'm James the
First, or Jimmy the Sixth if you spot it. And the best day of the year is
finally here. The 5th of November, 1606. The day we all celebrate me still being
alive.
Cheer, Robert.
Yay. Yay!
My advisor Robert Cecil here is right to cheer. What a day!
You, if you could say one word, what would it be? No one cares. Okay, come
Oh, you, unnamed female, what are you doing?
Uh, building a bonfire.
Why? Because you ordered us to celebrate.
Well, what are you waiting for?
To burn everything.
To celebrate me not getting burned. Yes, one whole day to reflect on what an
absolute blessing it was that I didn't get bumped off by that mean old guy
and his wee pals. And that is today, the 5th of November.
Should be the 4th, right?
But you've got something to say, Cecil.
Well, Guy Fawkes was discovered on the 4th of November, so technically we
have celebrated yesterday.
Is there a day to celebrate you, Robert?
No, Your Majesty.
No, there isn't. Well, there is for me, pal, and that is City, the 5th of
November.
Which week? Which week, Cecil? No, this week. What about you?
Oh, you're too wooden.
Burn! Burn!
It's just going to keep getting bigger. I'm picturing gun salute, bell ringing,
you know, mayoral procession. And in July, Christian of Denmark even brought
a firework which we went off in celebration. Tell them about it.
It was broad daylight in the middle of July, so when it went off, no -one could
really see anything.
Which made it all the more impressive.
He's not wrong! So many chances to celebrate your...
Me, the 5th of November.
Don't forget that date.
Expecting people to be celebrating that date for many centuries to come.
Remember, remember the 5th of November.
That's stupid. That rhyme could literally apply to any day in November.
It could be the 4th of November.
No. You!
Celebrate me more!
Why is that on fire? Everything should be on fire!
Right! I'm off to sing a total banger about the history of fireworks.
Happy bonfire night, everyone!
The birth of fire were an ancient Chinese tale.
Wei Boyang tried to live forever but was doomed to fail.
He mixed three powders up, thought they would be a hit.
He didn't live so long but now the spark was lit. Cause when you add some heat
and then retreat, it starts to smoke
and spark and light the dark.
Oh, this really seems to help my psoriasis.
Yes, he had made an egg to cure.
Apply the mixture to the sore.
Not what he was looking for.
Must be more to this for sure.
Little fireworks goes doom, doom, doom.
But fill a barrel and it's boom, boom, boom.
We'll blow the king across the room.
Then Catholic England can resume, resume, resume Cause they were using
gunpowder That started as an ex -macure But Guy
Fawcett did not go bang And soon he was a captured man
Now no matter where
Tickle. Tickle.
The past is no longer a mystery.
Hope you enjoyed.
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