Original subtitles

Yes, all right. Settle down.

Settle down.

Next slide.

Ah, right, I'm sure we all recognise this.

- Micky? - Hadrian's Wall.

Good. Now perhaps you can tell me why it was built.

To keep out the Scots.

Very good, Timothy.

And why would the Romans want to keep out the Scots?

Because they knew what bagpipes sounded like.

All right, let's move on, shall we?

Right.

Now, this is believed to be a bust of a second-century

Roman governor, Aulus Paulinus. Ripped By mstoll

Now, Aulus Paulinus, for some reason, didn't have his base in the capital London.

He had it here in Chelmsford.

So he could be close to London, Colchester and the coast.

Now, anybody know what he was famous for?

Having no nose.

Come on, be serious.

It's obvious why he's got no nose.

Because he spent a lot of time with Keith Richard.

Right, that's it. Write this down, you lot.

"Aulus Paulinus was Roman governor of Britain from AD123 to AD127

in the reign of the Emperor Hadrian."

Is this it, then?

Yes.

This sculpture is my gift to eternity.

A certain part seems to be missing.

As with all true art, what is important is not the individual parts but the whole.

How true.

And there's one particular hole that interests me.

The hole where the nose should be.

Forgive me...

Viatorus, it hasn't got a nose, you idiot.

Look.

Spot the difference.

My dear Aulus, I was attempting to represent the inner essence of your face

- rather than the exterior physiology. - Oh.

You see, a face is much more than the sum of its salient features.

When the artist looks at a face, he looks beyond mere flesh and blood.

He looks to that inner face of the soul.

That face which only the gods can gaze upon.

That dreamlike countenance which,

while being less than a face, is more of a face than the face itself.

You can't do noses, can you?

Look, I haven't come here...

Viatorus, was it not you that did the famous engraving of Marcus Statorius?

Indeed it was.

Now, if I remember correctly, what was unusual about Marcus Statorius

was his abnormally long, large, bulbous nose.

Was it that large?

Enormous.

People called him Pumpkin Nose.

They would exclaim, "Oh, look, there's a man with a pig strapped to his upper lip.

- Oh, no, my mistake. It's Marcus Statorius."

- Yes, well...

And yet, you, the great Viatorus, do a huge engraving of him entitled

Marcus Statorius With His Back To The Artist.

I was trying to capture some elusive artistic truth.

You can't do noses.

Look,

my sketches are an invaluable historical record.

Oh, of course, forgive me.

Who could forget your magnificent mural of

Hannibal crossing the Alps with 50 elephants.

Now, what was odd about certain details of that?

Not all elephants have trunks.

There is an obscure species of trunkless elephant from Southern Goa...

Look.

I want a new bust by next week with a nose.

Very well.

- As you please. - Thank you.

- You wouldn't settle for an extra ear? - Look at me!

Ee, what, ee, what.

Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

Plunjah!

Plunjah!

Ee, what, ee, what.

Ee, what, ee, what.

Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

Plunjah! Plunjah!

Plunjah!

Plunjah!

Ee, what, ee, what.

Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

Plunger! Plunger!

Ee, what, ee, what. Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

Hang on. Hang on, lads, wait.

What did you say?

Plunger!

"Plunger"?

Yeah. Plunger.

Listen, this is the battle chant of the Trinovantes.

We can't charge over the ridge brandishing our weapons

and descend on the quaking Roman army

with you in the front line shouting "Plunger".

Big girl's loin rag.

Sorry, Badvoc.

Listen, the word is "plun-jah"!

Plunjah!

Ee, what, ee, what.

Hey.

We've got to get this right.

Remember, the night is not far off when I, Badvoc,

warrior chieftain of the Trinovantes,

shall stand at the head of my men with my sword aloft,

and I shall shout...

Look at the workmanship on that handle.

Very tasteful, Badvoc. It's not too fussy but not too boring.

- That's right, yeah. - Oh, hello. All right?

- Hello. - Evening.

See you've got the kettle on.

Er, don't rattle too much on the way out. This is a residential area.

'Ere, we haven't seen Roman soldiers round here for a while.

I hope this doesn't mean they're going to interfere with our plans.

Nah, shouldn't think so.

The governor's up at the villa sitting for a statue.

- What does he want it for? - Wants people to pay him homage.

Pay him homage? What's homage?

I don't know. I think it's a tax on homosexuals.

Come to think of it,

I haven't seen Aulus for months.

I think he's up to something.

I haven't seen Badvoc for months.

He's up to something.

Yes, it has been rather quiet lately.

It's the lull before the storm.

Last time we had one of Badvoc's storms, it didn't have a lull before it.

It had a storm before it.

Perhaps the Britons don't go lull-storm, lull-storm, lull-storm.

Perhaps they go lull-lull-lull, storm-storm-storm.

You're just paranoid, Aulus.

You see assassins behind every pillar.

What pillar?

I thought I told you to get rid of all the pillars.

That's where assassins hide, you fool!

No, Badvoc is definitely up to something and I'm going to find out what.

Oh, no, you've moved.

You've ruined it now.

Look, you've got to keep still.

Just make sure it's got a nose.

Right, Wolfbane, this is what I want.

Woad. Your best purple woad and plenty of it.

I want to strike the fear of God into these people.

And I want the jawbone of a huge wolf, open, with its fangs showing,

for me to wear round my neck as I charge into battle.

Oh, yeah, I want a shield.

A big shield with a human skull nailed to it still dripping with blood.

No honeysuckle bath oil, then?

Pardon?

Honeysuckle bath oil.

Soaks away those unwanted aches and pains.

Look,

I do not want any bath oil, all right?

Acorn flapjacks?

- What? - A nutty little snack.

Just give us what we asked for, you snot-faced Silurian.

- Who the hell do you think you are? - They call me Mungo the Forgetful.

- Why's that? - Why's what?

- You're not helping. - Listen, Badvoc, there's this love potion.

One swig of this and you become irresistible to the opposite sex.

Wow! I'll have some of that.

Don't be daft, Blag.

You haven't got an opposite sex.

I've come in here to buy military preparations,

not be ripped off by one of your bogus potions.

- But this is brilliant. - I do not want any love potion!

Sorry to butt in. This is urgent.

Some of your love potion, please.

A large bottle this time.

Well, you're certainly getting through it tonight, sir.

Sorry, Badvoc, what was it again?

Woad, a wolf's jawbone and a shield with a skull on it.

- OK. - And six bottles of love potion.

Will that be all?

Oh, yeah, there was one other thing.

I want a military jockstrap.

A military jockstrap?

Here, hang on.

I hope you're not abandoning the Celtic

tradition of going into battle naked, Badvoc?

Listen, I'm the chief. If I want to wear a jockstrap, I'll wear one.

OK, a jockstrap.

- What size? - What do you mean, what size?

Well, there's small, very small and pass-me-the-magnifying-glass.

Then there's medium, then large, very large and bloody-hell-boyo.

I think I'll take a bloody-hell-boyo.

We've only got very small.

That'll do.

What kind of design do you want on it?

What sort of warlike emblem?

- I thought something like Skull of Doom. - Oh, yes. Skull of Doom.

Terrifying for the enemy to see an army bearing down on them

with the Skull of Doom bouncing up and down at the genitals.

I'll take one of them.

Sorry, sold out. Very popular choice, see.

All right. What about Death Hawk?

Oh, yes, certainly. One of my favourites.

Very daunting to face an army of men

whose plonkers are temporarily transformed into screeching falcons.

Sold out. Another popular one.

Great. Well, what have you got?

Dopey the Frog.

Dopey the Frog?

Yes. Sweet it is.

Big green thing with silly rolling eyes and a great lolloping floppy tongue.

I think we're wasting our time.

Come on. We don't want to get caught buying military equipment.

So, you are planning some sort of rebellion, then, Badvoc?

- Well, between you and me, Wolfbane... - You can trust me.

Me and a few of the lads are going to meet at the crossroads tomorrow night.

- Right. - We're planning something rather special.

- Oh, yes, what is it? - It's a Kill-A-Nosey-Welshman evening.

Hope you can make it.

Am I really necessary for this stage of the creative process, Viatorus?

Patience, Aulus. I can see your bone structure emerging even as we speak.

Aulus, my intelligence tells me that Badvoc has been buying military equipment

and is planning a revolt.

It's no laughing matter. This is serious.

Sorry. I was laughing at... "My intelligence tells me..."

Oh! Now you've stood up again!

Look, you've got to keep still.

The Emperor Trajan wasn't like this, you know.

Two weeks he sat perfectly still. He never moved a muscle.

- But then, he was noble. He was dignified. - He was dead.

- Was he? - He'd been dead for three weeks.

I thought he looked rather aloof.

Ee, what, ee, what.

Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

Plunjah!

Plunjah!

It's a great lyric when you think about it, innit, eh?

They just don't write them like that any more.

No.

'Ere, Mungo, are we gonna drink some of this love potion or what?

Er, no. Not for me, thanks. No.

But if you think you need love potions to help you pull, you go ahead and drink.

No. No, I'll um...

- I'll rely on my personality. - That's right, yeah. Play it cool.

I mean, you've got handsome looks. You've got masculinity.

You've got a rugged strength.

You've got charm, wit, sensitivity,

sophistication, grace, warmth and generosity.

Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

Give us that bottle!

Oh, I feel quite dizzy.

I feel like I'm in the grip of some strange and powerful force.

Mungo, it's working.

Oh, it's coming from you.

I'm under a spell.

- Mungo, the potion's working. - All right. Don't blow it. Play it cool.

If you're too keen, you'll frighten her off. Play it cool.

Remember, I've had 97 women. You've only had three.

All right.

I just have to be close to you.

I have to touch you. I just can't keep my hands off you.

Oh, you're the sexiest man I've ever seen!

Er, yeah, another time, darlin', eh?

- Hey? - Play it cool. Trust me.

Oh, Badvoc, I didn't know how gorgeous you are close up.

Oh, just think of all the times I've been missing.

Oh...

Oh, you cruel mountain of manhood.

You throbbing piece of lust meat.

You passion-oozing stallion! Oh!

I'm afraid you've caught him at a bad time, love.

- We're going off on a fishing trip. - What are you doing?

Play hard to get or you'll frighten her off.

Oh, right.

Come on, quickly, my body is dying of lust.

Quick, Badvoc, I'm desperate for you. Brutalise me with your passion.

I'm sure Badvoc would love to oblige,

but we're just off to do a spot of long-lining for mackerel.

What's the point?

I'm obviously wasting my time here.

There you are. See that?

She was putty in your hands.

- Mungo, she's gone. - Eh, I'll tell you what.

- What? - You could have had her.

- Mungo... - She was wrapped round your little finger.

My little finger would have been a start, Mungo!

Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, lads.

Don't get excited over Wolfbane's sister. She's not worth it.

What? Wolfbane's sister?

Aye, Bronnie, Wolfbane's sister.

Oh, I see Wolfbane's little game.

He sells his sister who he sold the potion to,

she follows them around, coming on strong,

so they'll end up buying more.

I see.

Here... does that mean she didn't think I was a cruel mountain of manhood, then?

I very much doubt it.

Oh.

What about throbbing piece of lust meat?

Nah, I doubt it very much.

- Ooh, what about... - Passion-oozing stallion.

- Yeah. - No.

So it was Wolfbane's idea.

What a nasty, underhand, devious little plan.

Yeah.

Wish we'd thought of it.

Come on, men, attack! Come on, forward!

Ah, there they are, the Roman scum! Look at 'em!

There's about 150 of them and only 15 of us.

But remember, they're only Romans.

We are Celts! So come on, men, attack!

Oi! Come on, you lot.

Where were you?

Good god.

You're not taking this seriously, are you?

- Can we go home now, Badvoc? - Shut up.

I hope no-one sees me doing this. This is embarrassing.

We're gonna do this over and over again till we get it right.

- Once more. - OK, twice more. Come on.

Let's get this thing back. And do try.

- So, a practice run, eh? - Yes.

For something distinctly bloodthirsty and anti-Roman.

- A revolt. - Right.

- I hope they didn't see us. - No. Not a chance.

Not with this camouflage.

OK, men, before we take to the field of combat,

let us offer a prayer to the great god Lugu.

Warrior god of battle.

I call upon Wolfbane the druid to perform the ceremony.

Nasty bump you've got there, Wolfbane.

Yeah. Two men jumped me in a dark alley and hit me with a club.

A rock.

- What? - Looks like a rock did that.

Not that I'm an expert.

Anyway, Wolfbane, I know you're a busy man -

jockstraps to make, love potions to sell.

So let's get on with the rites, shall we?

Hmm...

Hmm...

Oh, great god Lugu,

we who are but humble, insignificant worms before your greatness,

to you we sacrifice the precious life

of this... chicken.

Hmm...

Hang on, Wolfbane. Wolfbane, hang on.

- Isn't it supposed to be a live chicken? - Listen.

I'm not wandering around Chelmsford late at night with a live chicken in my breeches.

Pecked to buggery I'd be.

- Nobody move! - Ah, Badvoc.

Ah, Aulus, listen.

- You haven't got a live chicken on you? - Oh, Badvoc, you're so predictable.

I catch you red-handed in mid rebellion

and all you can say is, "Ah, Aulus. You haven't got a live chicken on you?"

You think I'm planning a rebellion?

Well, you have been out buying armour and weapons.

You've been sharpening your spears and swords.

You've been training your men on the hills, shouting violent anti-Roman slogans.

Now, I think you're up to something. It's just a hunch.

- I can explain. - This better be good.

- I've been rehearsing. - Rehearsing?

Yeah, tonight is the 50th All-British Warrior Chieftain Of The Year competition.

That's very good. Very good. That's one of your best.

It's true.

You are a finalist in the Chieftain Of The Year competition?

- Yeah. - I suppose you're favourite to win?

- Well, I'm quietly confident... - What happens at these games?

Do little men with horned helmets sit around campfires,

hurling live sheep through the air?

- It's funny you should mention... - You're all under house arrest.

Correction. Hovel arrest.

Brilliant! Brilliant!

Oh, unlucky.

- Oh, hang in there. - Yeah.

Never mind. It's taking part that counts.

What's next?

Er... Ooh, it's the freestyle sheep hurling, I think.

Oh, good, that's my favourite.

- Still no sign of Badvoc. - No.

And tonight's the 50th Tribal Chief Of The Year competition.

- It's a disgrace. - Absolute disgrace.

I mean, we all make an effort. We've put on our best horns...

Shh.

Oh, good throw.

Good throw.

You know, I can't understand Badvoc not turning up.

And this is his own home ground, too.

I know. He was favourite to win it this year.

And apparently he's spent weeks rehearsing a new war cry.

- Really? - Yeah.

Ah. Now you see this bloke? This bloke is good.

He throws a mean sheep.

- Badvoc's really blown it. - Absolutely, yeah.

Ooh, here he goes.

Oh, he's sliced it! Look out!

We could have won it tonight, you know.

- We could have won it. - Yeah.

Our only weak spot was the underarm duck-spinning.

Badvoc! Badvoc. I've just been talking to one of the Roman soldiers.

Apparently, Wolfbane told Aulus you were planning a rebellion.

What?

He said that if Aulus was gonna crucify us, he could let him have the wood cheap.

He what? He what?

Wiggy, wiggy, wiggy.

- Plunjah! Plunjah! Plunjah! - Shut up!

And stop saying "plunger"!

Go easy with that love potion. Pace yourself.

Right.

Oh, you cruel mountain of manhood.

You throbbing piece of lust meat.

You passion-oozing stallion.

I bet you say that to all the boys, don't you?

You are terrible, Aulus.

You're making an absolute fool of yourself.

You're just jealous.

Rubbish. I'd rather sleep with a dead pig.

I can get you one if you like.

Blonde or brunette?

Ladies and gentlemen.

The moment you have all been waiting for,

the culmination of months of painstaking, arduous and yet quite brilliant work...

is the reason you're all here tonight.

In honour of our governor, may I present to you my latest masterpiece,

which shall grace the main square of our town.

A bust in best Carrara marble

of our glorious governor Aulus Paulinus.

Ah, now, this was found on the same site and it's got archaeologists baffled.

It could be a weapon, some sort of percussion instrument,

or... and this is most likely, some sort of fertility symbol.

In short, a phallus.

At least, that's what I think.

Why's that, sir? Is yours that shape?

Right, you lot. Once and for all.

You may laugh at all of this and lark around,

but we are talking about people who lived here in Chelmsford nearly 2,000 years ago.

They could be your ancestors.

For all you know, you could be their direct descendants.

- Bullshit. - Absolute nonsense.

I'm not descended from any Roman.

Ripped By mstoll