Original subtitles

Ripped By mstoll

'Ere, Mungo, he's dead!

Course he's dead. He's just been viciously and

gratuitously stabbed by an unknown assailant.

Yeah, but you didn't have to use my knife, did you?

I mean, what happens if someone walks in here?

What happens if Badvoc walks in?

He'll take one look at me with a

blood-stained dagger, dead Roman at me feet,

and he'll say, "Blag, why did you kill that Roman?"

Blag, why did you kill that Roman?

I was just saying -

Shut up, Blag... Mungo, what's going on?

It would seem that this Roman 'ere came -

Shut up, Mungo.

Well, this is charming, isn't it?

I come back to me local drinking din, after

a hard day terrorising neighbouring tribes,

and I can't get to the bar for dead Romans.

He committed suicide. He was depressed, homesick -

- Mungo... - Shut up.

Correct.

Look at it from my point of view.

I'm the tribe leader. I'm in a position of trust.

The Romans rely on me to keep the peace here in Chelmsford.

I mean...

if we went round stabbing Romans whenever we

felt like it there'd be no Romans left...

to stab whenever we felt like it.

Uh, Blag, apologise.

- Sorry, Badvoc. - Not to me. To our ex-Roman friend.

- Sorry. - Properly.

Sorry about you being dead, Marcus.

Marcus?

They're all called Marcus, in't they?

'Ere, Mungo?

I don't think Marcus is gonna need financial support where he's going.

Oh, right.

Right, lads, the drinks are on the wop.

Ah.

And then the other fella says, "Thank God for that. I thought me hump had burst."

Badvoc?

- Ah, Functio. - Can we have a word in private?

Eh?

Don't worry about this lot. Just use words of

more than two syllables. They won't understand.

There's been a general breakdown in law and order.

Your men are swaggering around Chelmsford brandishing swords.

Now, there's a law against that.

The Lex... Lex um...

The Lex lulia de Vi Publica

which forbids Brits from carrying offensive weapons without authorisation.

- Yes. - Never heard of it.

Yes, well, I've just seen one of the Roman garrison butchered.

Literally butchered by one of your men.

Butchered by one of my men? Which one?

Ralph.

Oh, that's all right. He's a butcher.

He's got a stall down the market place. Blag, drink for Functio.

Oh, all right.

How's that, then?

You think you've got problems. Go on, shift up.

It's no use trying to get round me, Badvoc.

I've known you too long.

When I first came here ten years ago from Rome to serve with the Ninth Legion

there was peace, we lived in harmony.

That's why I settled here, that's why I married one of your tribe.

I thought it was because you put her up the duff.

Functio, OK, listen...

Look at it this way. Did we ask to be invaded?

- No. - No.

And besides, before your lot came it was Briton killing Briton.

Now it's Briton killing Roman.

- So you see, for us it's progress. - Exactly.

Yes, well, I've sent word to Rome. A new governor must be sent forthwith.

We don't need a new governor. We've managed perfectly

well since the last one... unfortunately...

- Departed. Departed.

Departed? Dispatched, more likely.

It was an accident.

- He, uh, choked. - Choked.

On his own foot?

Well, I told him he shouldn't bite his toenails.

Uh, game of Knucklebones, anyone?

Be careful, Badvoc.

The next man they send might just bring you to your knees, begging for mercy.

Baa!

It's very kind of you, Badvoc, to play Knucklebones with a poor old blind man.

All part of my duty as your tribal chief.

Yeah, it is very nice of him, cos a lot of people

must take advantage of your lack of sight in games of chance.

Mungo, isn't there a tin mine you can fall down?

Right, my throw.

Oh, bad luck, Badvoc. Double dog.

Bad luck, Blag? What can you mean?

That's a double Venus, the highest available score in Knucklebones.

Another double Venus, Badvoc! Amazing luck you're having.

Yes, the gods are smiling on me. It's all in the wrist, you see.

I have good news - the new governor has landed in Britain, and is on his way.

Thought you had some good news.

It is good news for every right-thinking person in this province.

Both of them?

Get your swords now.

Finest weaponry. Badvoc!

Look at that sword. Finest weaponry. Cut through a Roman like butter.

Finest... cutlery. Cut through butter like butter.

Not just now, Ankroll. Thanks. All right, mate.

But the best news of all - the man they've sent is Aulus Paulinus.

A fine general and an old friend, and this calls for a celebration.

That's very good of you. A mug of ale for me and Mungo, and a bucket for Blag.

This one 'ere, Badvoc, it's a work of art.

It will turn a massacre into a masterpiece.

I'm not interested.

It's so sharp it will slice through a man without him even knowing it.

What's the point of that? When I slice through

somebody I want them to know about it. I want -

Badvoc, a toast to the future

in which Romans and Britons live in harmony.

The future.

This man Aulus Paulinus, what sort of bloke is he, then?

Oh, he's an amazing man.

He's courageous, bold... He has the heart of a lion.

The eyes of a hawk.

I see. He collects bits of animals, does he?

You'll need more than your dry British humour when Aulus Paulinus gets here.

Here, Ankroll... I want some of your finest swords.

These ones are real beauties. Razor-sharp.

One quick launch, and it's in. Look. Look at this.

What do you think?

It's not bad.

Not bad? Not bad?!

Look at the craftsmanship on that handle.

Oh, all right, I'll have half a dozen.

Right. That'll be... 500... sesterce.

500 sesterce? That's a bit steep, innit?

I've got to make a living, haven't I?

Oh, all right.

- I'll pay you when I see you. - Right...

That Ankroll, great salesman.

I reckon the job's killing him.

Can't you go any faster?

Come on, you lazy scum - pull!

Pull!

Please...

Why do we have to have German slaves pulling our chariot?

Because they're more economical than Gauls, that's why.

You get more miles to slave with a German.

This rain, my God!

When I think of the years I spent trying to cultivate a good tan,

and what happens - I end up in this shitholey.

This what?

Shitholey.

I think you'll find the word's pronounced shith-ole.

Shith-ole.

Stupid language. Why do we have to speak it anyway?

It's the Treaty of Occupation. When in Rome...

These peasants should be forced to learn Latin,

otherwise it'll end up as a dead language.

- Rubbish. - Look at that!

What does that mean?

Piss off Romans.

I'm not familiar with the construction.

It's something Romani, isn't it?

Uh... piss off...

It's probably a word of welcome, yes.

Like we say salvete Romani, they say "Piss off, Romans".

- Piss off, Grasientus. - Piss off, Aulus.

I like that. Piss off, Romans.

Come on, Badvoc. Hurry up and throw.

Badvoc?

Well, say something.

Oh, my God! I've gone deaf as well as blind.

Help! Somebody?

He's gone.

Thank heavens for that.

Is this one dead?

Badvoc?

Badvoc?

Where is he? Where's Badvoc?

After he bought the swords off Ankroll he went off with some of his colleagues.

Talking about a welcoming committee for the new Roman governor.

Oh, my God!

This is bad news. There's gonna be big trouble.

I must get some of the veterans together. There could be bloodshed.

Drink before you go?

For God's sake, man!

The new governor's about to be ambushed and killed by the local tribal leader,

leading to what could be full-scale war, and all you can talk about is drink!

Oh, my God, this is terrible! I need a drink.

So much for your tough German slaves.

Well, how was I to know they all had defective hearts?

Look, just shut up and push.

- You mean shut up and pull. - Yes, whatever. Bloody stupid language.

Agghhh!

What is it now?

I've got a splinter in my finger.

It's tiny.

Ridiculous.

Look, just hold still.

Look, there we are.

There we are, there...

Salute Romani.

Nos multi...

- multi-syme... - Multissime.

Multissimay...

What's happening?

He's trying to speak Latin.

Uh, no... Fellow?

It's all right. You see...

We... speak... British.

Oh, charming.

I am Badvoc, leader of the Trinovantes.

We are here to welcome you to Chelmsford.

Hello.

As a token of our goodwill we would like to bestow upon you

these six swords crafted by our finest swordsmith, the great Ankroll.

- The late Ankroll. - Shut up.

Well, well, well...

What great kindness.

We are indeed honoured to be greeted in such a way.

We had heard that you Britons were a rough, dishonourable bunch.

These gifts, well...

Agghhh!

My friends, get down! It's a trap!

I will save you. Fear not!

Functio, what the hell are you doing here?

Badvoc, stop this ambush at once.

Functio, you pillock - it's not an ambush, it's a welcoming committee.

What about the swords?

A welcome to Chelmsford present, you great wassock.

Oh, dear...

Sorry.

You've killed two of my men.

I'm sorry, Badvoc.

Two of my best men.

I have done you a great wrong.

You certainly have.

I paid them in advance.

I wonder if they've spent it yet. Let's have a look.

Welcome to Wass' Tavern.

Ugghh! This is no place for the human being.

You should be all right, then, shouldn't you, Grasientus?

Aulus, mate, come and meet some of the tribe.

- Mungo. - Greetings. I didn't catch the name.

- They call me Mungo the Contradictory. - Do they?

No.

He's got a wicked sense of humour.

- Greetings, fellow. - Hello, Marcus.

Marcus, this is Blag.

Ah, Blag.

That's an odd name, isn't it? Is it short for something?

Yeah, it's short for the great fat dozy git Blag.

- Ah, drink, gentlemen? - Excellent. This is our taverner Wass.

- Greetings. - Pleased to meet you.

- Does he do that all the time? - Yes. A nervous tick.

Oh, there you are, you see. That's the source of my confusion.

When he said you'd taken the swords - wink wink - to give to Aulus - wink wink -

I thought...

You're a pillock, Functio.

Yes, my wife says that.

Ah, Gargamadua.

Hello, there.

What the hell are you doing here?

Well, as the girlfriend of the local tribal leader,

it seems only right I should meet the Governor.

- What's it got to do with you? - You never know...

He might take a fancy to me.

What?

He might ask me to go and work at the Governor's villa.

Could be useful for you to have a spy in the Roman headquarters.

Don't be ridiculous. If you had to work for him, and were in his...

and he...

That's very clever for a woman.

- You should have been a man, you know. - So should you.

Pardon?

I'm sure he could find a position for me.

I'm sure he could find several.

You know what these Romans are like - he

probably just wants to give you one, dirty -

Aulus, this is my betrothed, Gargamadua.

You're a very fortunate man, Badvoc.

I am ashamed, Gargamadua, to have only human words at my disposal.

Fragile and inadequate attempts to describe your pulchritude.

I doubt very much that nature's magic wand could conjure up a replica

of such peerless beauty.

He wants to give me one.

Yeah.

OK, Aulus, I'm sure my betrothed is very honoured by your kind words.

Go and make me dinner.

Aulus, now that the elders are assembled I think it right that you say a word or two.

How about goodbye?

Shut up, Grasientus.

People of Chelmsford...

I am overwhelmed by the warmth and affection of this welcome.

I...

I know that Britain is not as great as Rome,

although I predict that one day she will be as great as...

Syria.

Or Cappadocia, or perhaps, who knows, even Malta.

And so, in honour of this auspicious occasion,

I would like to give you a greeting in your own fair tongue.

And so I say to you, Britons...

piss off. Ripped By mstoll