All language subtitles for Plebs - 05x03 - The Banquet.MTB.English.updated.Addic7ed.com

Ooh, shiny gold envelope,
I wonder what's inside?

Probably just some shiny gold junk mail.

No, look, check it out.
"Senator Varus and Lady Clodia

"cordially invite the
Brothers Longinus to a banquet."

- Yes, come to Daddy!
- Hang on a sec. What's all this?

We're cordially invited to a banquet!
In your face, Needle Dick.

Why would you be invited to a banquet?
- We weren't.

- Cos we're stone-cold legends.
- We weren't invited, it's a mistake.

It's addressed to the Brothers Longinus,
and last time I checked, that isn't us.

So how come we got the invite?

Cos our idiot postman delivered it to
11 Via Attica, instead of 11 Via Antica.

- Good.
- We're still gonna go, right?

What? No! As soon as we show
our faces, the Senator will see

we are not the Brothers Longinus
and have us un-cordially booted out.

Yeah, but look at the bottom, he's put,
"Looking forward to meeting you."

He's not met us...
Them.

Oh, come on, mate,
I've never been to a banquet,

and you're always trying to suck up
to powerful poshos.

I suppose if we got chummy with a Senator,

we could sidestep the council
on our late licence application.

Now you're thinking. How many of
these brothers do you think there are?

- I'd say three.
- Three sounds right to me.

- There could even be four.
- Seems unlikely.

No, definitely not four.

Sync and corrections: minouhse
www.addic7ed.com

- Maybe this isn't a great idea after all.
- Why don't we just go for a kebab or something?

Are you yanking my boy?
It was right faff getting this thing on,

- I'm not wasting it on a kebab.
- Damn right, we've been to all this effort.

What effort? You're wearing
the same shitty tunic as usual.

But I've been practising me snooty face.

Posh isn't about what you wear, mate.
Posh is a state of mind.

All right.

Darling!

The Governors Ilicia, Calperneaus Piso,

and his wife, Lady Phyllis.

Hello, the Brothers Longinus.

Oh yes, oh, and that would be your slave.

- Fuck's sake...
- It is, yes.

Slaves dine separately,
along the corridor, down the stairs.

Titus and Publeas Longinus.

Shit, which of us is which?

- I wanna be Titus.
- So do I.

- Publeas, it sounds well nerdy.
- Hence, why I don't wanna be him.

Hence why you have to be him.
Come on, look, I'm clearly more Titus.

Boys, welcome to Rome.

Senator Varus, I presume.

Indeed, well met, very well met.
Oh, now, which one are you?

- He's Publeas, definitely.
- Oh, yes, the military man.

- Ah, yep, that's me.
- Excellent. So you must be...

- Titus.
- Yeah, the scholar.

Exactly.
I am a scholar.

Well, now, Titus, why don't you go
and eat, mingle, and be merry,

Publeas, I want you
to come with me for a moment

and meet a very good friend of mine,
General Agrippa.

Yes, please!

Hello there,
will you be joining us for dinner?

- I will indeed.
- Well, my name is Petronius,

I am domestic coordinator,
please take a seat.

Don't mind if I do.

I'm buzzing about this, by the way, man.

Hang on, what's this mulch?

Well, that's Sloppy Ends,
it's a kind of a left-over broth.

I thought this were a banquet.

Not for slaves, silly.

But if you are still hungry after that,
do tuck into the peel trough.

Extraordinary.

- You're a unicorn, you realise that?
- Thank you.

Sorry, what do you mean?

A mythical creature, otherwise known
as a new face at a banquet.

Right, yeah, I just got to Rome,

so I'm new to the whole banqueting scene.

It's not so much a scene as a sentence.

The same guests, the same music,
the same canapes, ad nauseam.

Dear Jove, spare me from
another starling's tongue on toast.

If you want my advice, new boy,

the only way to get through it
is to drink until you black out.

Well, cheers to that, then!

- My name's Rufina.
- Titus.

Titus Longinus.

And how did you triumph
at the Battle of Vellica,

despite being so outnumbered?

I guess it was a combination
of stabbing and gouging.

I meant from a tactical perspective.

Right, yes, tactically,
we used the element of surprise.

And the element of being better
at war than them.

I served with his old man, Lucallas,

a dear friend of mine, and I made a vow

that if ever these boys came to Rome,

I would guide their path like the humble,

though very well-connected shepherd.

So tell me, how are you coping
with life on civvy street?

Well, we've actually been quite busy,
Titus and I.

Oh, I dare say, plotting
your new careers, no doubt.

Exactly, we bought a wine bar.

Sorry, a what?
A wine bar?

A wine bar.

Yo, Publeas, this is a banging party, innit?

Yeah, maybe for Titus,
I've got some crusty war bore on my arse,

demanding to know
how many Spaniards I've killed.

- Cool, how many did you go for?
- 80.

All bad men, though, no civilians.
And I found out some more about us.

Oh, yeah, what you got?

Varus is mates with our dad, Lucullus,
who may or may not be alive.

Also, while I've been depopulating Spain,

you've spent the last three years
taking it easy in Greece.

Greece? That is so Titus.
Ah, I love this guy.

You're coping with being a scholar,
then, are you?

Yeah, relax! I could be brainy
brother, right, it's a piece of piss.

Esteemed guests,
'tis now time to repair to the triclinium.

Right, that being said,
I have no idea what that means.

- Just follow these people.
- Okay.

Salve, stranger, we meet again.

What are the chances?

They usually put me next to some
paunchy banker or smug soldier.

Well, you have lucked out tonight,
haven't you?

Have I?
And what do you do, Titus?

Oh, I'm a scholar, yeah,

been scholaring away in Greece
for the past few years.

And what have you been scholaring exactly?

Well, you know, all the Greek stuff, you
know, the language, the history, the yogurt.

Yeah, I'm a big of Greek geek, as it goes.

Before we begin,
I have a little treat in store for you.

Oh, no, here it comes.

The Planetine Players will perform
The 12 Labours of Hercules

through the medium of mime.

Kill me now, none of his labours

are a patch on having to sit through
a fucking mime act.

I can't bear it, I'm going upstairs
to seek immediate refuge.

Okay, right well, see you later.

Oh, no, sweetie, you're coming, too.

Second room on the right, meet you up there.

But to extend the bar's licence,
we need council approval, you see,

unless, well,
the Senator were to support it,

in which case they'd sign it off
on the spot, I imagine.

Yes, I've been thinking about this
wine bar folly of yours, Publeas.

- Great! Uh, sorry, folly?
- It's beneath you.

You are a decorated officer of noble stock,

you should be pursuing a career
in the senate, or in the law courts,

not running some cheap saloon
like a common pleb.

- It is actually quite swanky.
- What would your father say?

Well, I think he would approve,
in fact, I discussed it with him.

You did?
But he died 20 years ago.

I...
I know, I was eight at the time.

He couldn't stand the lower orders,
and you want to serve them wine?

Oh, well, if you insist upon
tarnishing his legacy,

you go ahead, my boy, but you can
do so without my support.

Bravo!

- Well, then, is it done?
- Yes, sir, keep your voice down.

Is it done, goddamn it,
have you taken care of the almonds?

- I have, sir.
- Just his almonds, though? Yes?

Yes, just his, it's all in place.

Excellent, let's hope he's hungry.

You took your time.

Oh, yeah, sorry, I actually got
well into that mime.

I want you to read to me, Titus.

Read to you?
Well, I didn't bring any books.

- Well, lucky we're in the library.
- Oh, yeah, that is lucky.

How about some love poetry by Sappho?

- That would really get things going.
- Great.

It's just the the letters
are all a bit funny.

- Greek, yes.
- Greek?

Exactly, no, I know, cos I'm a Greek scholar.

That's right.

So I can confirm that's Greek.
Which bit did you want me to...

Why don't you start at the top
and work your way down.

- Read!
- Poem one by Sappho.

- Mykonos...
- Oh, yes.

- Olympikos...
- Oh, that's good.

- Souvlaki...
- Oh, yeah.

Moussaka...

Taramasalata...

Keep going.

Poppalopodus...
Hippopotamus.

Wonderful, oh, so vivid.

And now for your starter,
it's a pan-fried trout with almonds,

it's a first of eight courses,

so if you need to make room at any point,

there are slaves with vomit bowls.

Enjoy!

Marcus!

- What is it? Why are you in here?
- I wouldn't eat the almonds if I were you.

- What? Why not?
- I don't want to be a worry wart,

but there's a chance they've been poisoned.

Poisoned?
Oh, God, what have you done now?

Nothing, I just heard some shady
shit going down in the kitchen.

- Where's Jason?
- Why were you in the kitchen?

I didn't fancy the slave food, right,
so I was squatting under this table...

- Course you were.
- and I heard some whispers

about taking care of almonds.

Okay, that sounds quite a lot
like a recipe to me.

- So why whisper it, then?
- Maybe it's a secret recipe.

Or a poison plot.
We should tell the boss man.

What?
No, I'm not telling Varus.

We might get a reward if we're right.

But what if we're wrong? He's already poured
a lot of cold pit on the wine bar idea.

So eat your almonds, then, you stubborn sod.

No, I'm not gonna eat the almonds,
and not because I believe you,

but because I really don't like them.
And I'm not going to ruin the vibe

based on some vague nut-based
nonsense you might or might not have heard

while squatting under a table.

Drusus?!

- Oh, my God!
- What on Earth is happening?

The vibe's fucked now anyway.

- He's dead, my Lord.
- No!

Oh, Drusus, my dearest friend,

how could such a wretched thing
have happened?

From the oral frothing,
sire, I suspect poison.

Poison?
In my own home?

Guards, bolt the doors.
And let them not be unbolted

until we find the wretch responsible.

And where is the Lady Rufina?

She knows not yet that she's widowed.

Someone go and find her
and break the news gently to her.

You, slave, you're not one of mine,
what business do you have here?

Soz, yeah, I was just here
to talk to Marcus.

- To whom?
- Publeas.

Publeas.
Off of the brothers Vaginas.

- Longinus.
- Long, that's what I said.

Yeah, don't mind me, as you were.

I definitely heard a scream.

I bet it's nothing, maybe we should
go back and you know, finish up.

Fuck a duck!

Okay, so it's not nothing,
but how about that finishing up idea?

Oh, my bloody husband's dead.

Husband?
You've got a husband?

Well, no, not any more.

Yeah, shit, sorry for your loss.

No, don't be, I'm not, although
I'll have to act as if I am,

or they'll think I've had a hand in it.

I mean, did you have a hand in it?

No! Josus was philanderer and a
bore, but that's not reason enough

to kill him, not quite.

In any case, it looks as though
they've found the suspects.

Come on, away with them.

I should probably hang back, innit,

so we don't go in together
with my toga undone.

Wise words, scholar.
Wish me luck.

Good luck.

Why me?! Make it not be so!
Not him, not my poor, sick Drusus!

- Herbo, put the shits up these two.
- Yes, sir, right away.

No, please don't, Herbo,
don't put anything up us ideally.

You know, all this could be avoided
by a simple confession.

- We've got nothing to confess!
- Oh, do you not?

So you really are Pableus Longinus,

son of Lucallas, former governor of Thrace?

No, okay, I'm Marcus Gallo,
son of Leopardus,

current chicken farmer of Pisa,
and this is Grumio, my slave.

- How do.
- And yes, okay, we gate-crashed a banquet,

but only to get help with our wine bar,
we really do own a wine bar.

I can believe that.

We honestly had nothing
to do with the murder,

I was as shocked as you were!

But not quite,
cos I had given you an 'eads up.

- Like a few seconds before.
- Mm, more like a minute.

- What the fuck, Grumio?
- Yes, what the fuck, indeed?!

- You knew about this?
- I told him to warn you.

Well, why didn't you?

I didn't wanna cause a fuss.
Well, admittedly this is more of a fuss.

I heard some fellas plotting
in t'kitchen, is all.

Fellas?
Which fellas?

It's hard to say, cos I were under a table.

Oh, so you have no proof,
how terribly convenient!

Maybe just take our word for it?
We're being honest now. I promise.

Herbo, break these two
until you get a confession,

I'm going to find the brother.

He's not actually my brother!
I'm being honest now, you see.

Search the whole place, search every room!

Right away, sir.

Who are you?

Oh, hello.

I'm no-one, really.

- What a lovely dolly!
- Are you playing hide-and-seek?

Yeah, exactly, I can't find
that daddy of yours anywhere,

maybe he snuck out of the house.

That's cheating,
you're not allowed to go outside.

Yeah, sure, but still, is that possible?

Like, is there a secret way out of here?

There's the slave's entrance.

Great!
And where is that again?

It's past the triclinium
and down the stairs.

Amazing, thanks, babe.

Actually, you don't know
how to do up a toga, do you?

He was my life!

I cannot smile without him, let alone live!

What a vile business this is!

It's hideous, it's beyond hideous.

So, have they confessed?

Not yet, but Herbo will see to that,
whilst we seek out the other one.

Surely it's them,
who else could it possibly be?

Well, there he is, the scoundrel!
Guards!

Guards, guards!
Cuff him!

Shit, that hurts!

How are you so bloody calm, Grumio?

Just blocking it out, mate.
Try and think about something else.

I can only really think about being whipped!

I'm focusing on cheesecake.

- I don't really like cheesecake.
- You don't like cheesecake, for real?!

- I don't like creamy desserts.
- You don't like creamy desserts?!

This isn't helping, Grumio.

- Why don't you like creamy desserts?
- I find them a bit sickly.

Can you stop thinking about food

and try to remember those poisoners,
you greedy gimp?!

Hello, he's stopped now, look.

No, he hasn't,
he's gone to get a new weapon.

- Fuck this, I'm going to confess.
- To the murder?

To everything.
Murder, burglary, arson,

I'll say I killed Caesar,
anything to make this stop.

What's that, please?

This is clamp for testicles.

Oh, no, no, please, I did it,
please don't touch my nuts!

- I'm still using them!
- Nuts, that's it!

- I'm the murderer.
- Almonds!

- So you confess?
- Go and get Varus. I did it, it was me.

No, we didn't, I've got proof.

- What? Have you?
- Almonds,

the bloke in the kitchen said it funny,
he called them almonds, with a "luh".

- Does that definitely count as proof?
- If I could find the guy who says AL-monds,

then we're off the hook, literally.

In which case, Herbo, it wasn't me
after all, I withdraw my confession.

Oi.
Where is he?

Oi, hang on!

Do you see this item,
which I hold before you?

- Yes, I do.
- And what would you call it?

- I'd call that a nut.
- Yeah, but what sort of nut?

Ooh, now, well, I'm not that good
with their names, is it a pecan?

No, not a pecan.

- Oh, is it maybe a walnut, then?
- No, try again.

- If I could have a nibble, maybe I could...
- It's a fucking almond!

It's not your turn, Grandad!

Yes, it is an almond.
Sorry, is this some kind of party game?

- Sort of, it's evidence gathering.
- It's a steaming pile of horse shit.

You're right.
Herbo, back to the dungeon with them!

- Heat up the poker!
- Come on, we've almost cracked it.

Help!
Help!

Where is that dreadful mewing sound
coming from?

It's me, Jason.
I mean, Titus!

I'm down in your heating thing,
I'm all lost and sweaty.

How in Hades did you get down there?

I just sort of crawled in, yeah.

Herbo, another oik for the dungeon.

Oh, no, come on, please, I've got
some juicy goss about the old murder.

I can blow this case wide open.

Come on, out with it.

- A glass of water would be nice.
- Speak, damn you!

Okay, so, before the banquet started,

I snuck in here and had a
little play with the seating plan.

You meddled with my placements?
That's disgraceful!

Yeah, I'm sorry, it's just that I
was getting some serious vibes

off of Rufina,
so I moved her name card next to mine.

I had no knowledge of this,
I can assure you.

Neither the seating change, nor the vibes.

But this only implicates you further,
you shiny fool.

Openly admitting that you had
designs on the dead man's wife.

No, wait, there's more. So after that,
I've gone and done another switcheroo,

so that Marcus could bend your ear
about the bar.

You see, geeze, you were supposed
to be sat there in his seat.

So I was the target?

My lord, heaven forfend!

Now be calm, Petronius,
I live still, do I not?

Well, now, this is news indeed,
but I fail to see how this exonerates you.

The only change is the identity
of the intended victim.

Senator Varus, may I be permitted
to ask a question of the Lady Rufina?

Oh, proceed.

My lady, did your late husband, Drusus, have
a nut allergy, could that be how he died?

Certainly not, he frequently
nibbled a nut of an evening.

- Interesting.
- Hardly,

this is desperate stuff, I must say...

In which case, my lady, what would
he have called one of these?

He would have called it an AL-mond.

It was one of his many idiosyncrasies,
I so adored.

It were him, then,
it's the corpse what done it.

Oh, nonsense!

Why on Earth would Drusus want
to murder his best friend

and business partner?

Well, clearly having his way
with my wife was not enough,

he wanted to get his hands
on my company, too!

- What are you talking about, husband?
- Oh, come on,

Clodia, we've known about your
tawdry little affair for years!

Yes, all those visits
to your so-called pustulous aunt.

She is pustulous,
I was draining her weeping sores.

You were plotting my death with your lover,
don't you dare deny it!

Well, do you blame me?
With a husband who won't even look at me

because he's too busy fucking Petronius!

Thank you so much for a lovely evening, perhaps
we could have you round to ours some time?

No, never, leave at once.

Sure, just... I wonder whether,
seeing as we solved the murder,

and in a way saved your life,
would you maybe reconsider

helping with the late licence application?

- Shoo, now, before I summon Herbo.
- Yes, no, will do, goodbye.

Rufina, hey, I was gonna say,
now you're officially a widow,

maybe we should hook up sometime
for another cheeky poetry recital?

Oh, you're very sweet,
like a licky little dog,

but now I'm a widow, I've come into
a very large sum of money.

Oh, wicked, well done.

So if I want a handsome stud to read
me Greek poetry, then, well,

I'll probably just go to Greece.

Call that a banquet?
I only had a few nibbles.

Tell me about it, I'm starving.

- We could always get that kebab.
- Now you're talking!

The Longinus Brothers can keep
their bullshit banquets.

- Keep them!
- Not my back, that's where I got whipped.

Just block it out, soft lad.

Sync and corrections: minouhse
www.addic7ed.com