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Slimy Stuarts, vile Victorians
toothless
Horrible Histories presents...
From 20th-century Germany
comes the musical tale of the Dassler brothers,
whose conflict changed the world's...
..sports footwear.
Horrible Historical Musicals presents...
Herzogenaurach
go fast
kicks
Two brothers, whose friendship was ended when Rudi went away to war
and Adi stayed home to run the company.
I'm running the company on my own, while Rudi is away.
Maybe I should always run the company on my own.
"No," to sharing.
And so, Adidas shoes were born.
But when Rudi returned from the war, a rivalry was forged.
I will create a rival shoe company right here in Bavaria.
And guess what I'm going to call it? Yes, what is that?
Oh?
Ruda Shoes. Uh...
How about Puma?
Sounds more, "Rargh!"
Hmm? Ja, fair enough.
assume-a
get enough
ain't no threat, yeah
rough
The epic tale of the brothers
whose rivalry created two of the biggest shoe companies in the world.
The musical with sole.
Mine are still better than yours.
It's true.
A rivalry between brothers really did create two famous shoe companies.
A rivalry is when two sides fight it out for the same thing.
Like Ratchester City and Ratchester United
competing to be the best football team in the whole sewer.
Or me and Cattus fighting over the same bins outside the sausage shop.
MIAOW Oh, I'm watching you, Cattus.
Yes, rivalries have been rife throughout history,
and they can go on for years.
They can even result in war,
not that those wars end the beef.
William the Conqueror found that out
when he killed his rival, King Harold, at the Battle of Hastings,
which only made him a powerful new English enemy,
Harold's mum.
Hello?
I am King William of England.
I know you're in there.
We're not scared of you, William.
Guys, seriously, I am not OK about this rebellion.
I just conquered you.
I'm so peeved, I literally just poked this guy's eyes out.
There was a whole battle
near Hastings, remember?
My rival, King Harold, and all his brothers,
were killed or captured. I mean,
there's literally no-one else from the royal family
left to lead you.
Move it, sunshine.
Go away!
Oh, for crying out loud. Look who it is.
Yeah, I would if you hadn't poked my eyes out. Oh, sorry, yeah.
It's the old King Harold's mum, Gytha. Oh.
Yeah. You forgot about mummy, didn't you?
Look, it would be better for everybody
if we ended all this rivalry and you just surrendered.
So, what do you say?
Why's it all gone quiet?
Hang on. Something's happening.
Oh, I think he's getting his bum out.
Fire! But why?
BREAKING WIND Ah! Oh!
Don't worry about it, Your Majesty,
everyone does it when they get nervous.
That wasn't me, it was them.
Oh, sure it was.
That's our answer.
The sound of a mother's rage.
BREAKING WIND AGAIN And by the smell of it...
..cabbage.
Oh, gosh that is strong.
BREAKING WIND AGAIN Ugh!
Maybe you should go and change your chain mail.
It wasn't me. Do you want me to poke something else out?
Yeah, can you start with my nose? Uh.
Hit him again.
BREAKING WIND AGAIN Ugh!
I know you have them surrounded, but maybe it's time we retreated.
Yeah, it stinks.
That's right.
Fear our power...
BREAKING WIND AGAIN ..and smell it too.
Oh, I could smell that one from France.
We'll be back.
Right, that's enough.
BREAKING WIND AGAIN
Oh!
Introducing great historical rivals...
Hi, I'm Boudicca,
warrior queen of the Iceni Tribe of Britain,
and pain in the Emperor Nero's backside.
I led a rebellion against Rome and it went so well
that Nero nearly abandoned his invasion of Britain altogether.
That would have been great.
Sadly, there's something I did that people say convinced Nero
to keep his armies in Britain and destroy me.
What was it? Did I...
Well, I did burn down a few of the Roman temples,
but it wasn't an accident.
So, the answer is
C, I criticised his musical skills.
I never met Nero, but I heard his lyre playing was shocking
and I didn't mind saying so.
It's like listening to an angry cat
complain about the size of the sardines.
Right, that's it.
We will destroy you with the full might of the Roman legions.
It'd be a welcome relief from listening to that racket.
Cor!
Sometimes a rivalry between nations could be ended with love, not war.
And one way of stopping the fighting was to arrange a marriage
between the two warring parties.
That's what happened here in Ancient Egypt,
when the Hittite leader, Hattusili III,
arranged for his eldest daughter to marry his archrival,
Pharaoh Ramesses II.
It was one of the first peace treaties in history.
And really, who needs romance when you've got a war to stop?
Um, can somebody help me down?
I'm afraid of heights.
They say there is a wafer-thin line between love and hate.
So, is it any wonder that when two warring rivals look for peace,
it is l'amour that shows the way.
Pharaoh Ramesses II is looking for love,
or an end to war. One of the two.
I hope I like her.
I hope my wives like her, as well.
Hey, do people normally bring their wives on dates?
Serious question.
You don't mind, do you?
Yeah, she don't mind.
OK.
His date is the eldest daughter of the king of the Hittites.
You must be Ramesses II,
my name is... I don't care what your name is.
Imma call you Maathorneferure.
It means she who beholds the falcon.
That is the visible splendour of Ra.
Yeah, right, I'm wicked with names, innit?
Is he allowed to do that? I mean, I know he's a pharaoh,
and I've heard he can do whatever he likes,
but is he literally allowed to change my name?
Things are off to a bad start because,
while Ramesses is Pharaoh of the Upper Nile,
he's, on this occasion, also king of the utter vile.
You need some oil, babes? No, thanks, babe.
Oh, apologies, my bad. You need some oil, babes.
Hold on, no, what, what? Stop. What are you doing?
The oil was there to banish the netherworld
and keep you safe from evil. You're welcome.
I know that ditching this date could restart a war between our kingdoms,
but right now, that seems like a price worth paying.
Hey, hey, hey. Look, look, look. We both know
that our marriage is just there to keep the peace.
But look, let's just put all of that aside, yeah?
Let's just talk about our hopes and our dreams.
I'd like that.
So, how much am I getting? Huh?
Think of world peace. Think of world peace.
It's called a dowry.
Her dad has to give me a load of stuff when I marry her.
It's a standard thing at regular weddings,
let alone ones being arranged to end a war.
Ain't that right? I got bear coins off of these lot.
So, I get the gold, yeah? Silver.
The slaves, the horses and the cows. Is that all?
And me, of course. HE LAUGHS
Yeah, of course.
How could I forget that? That's mad.
Imma put you down under the horses.
And they say romance is dead.
OFF SCREEN: So, do you think you'll see each other again?
Sure. I mean, we'll have to, innit?
If we don't get married,
then the war between our rival kingdoms may well start up again.
Bruh, I ain't got no choice.
The words every bride longs to hear.
Don't worry, babes, we'll look after you.
There you go. Wives, let's go.
You need to learn some manners.
Just ignore him, we do.
Yeah. I'll catch you back at the palace.
Yeah.
You know, I might have to be back next week,
because five wives ain't enough. You know what I mean?
You know what I'm saying?
Cor, what an awful man.
And I thought I was the only rat on the show.
Still, it's good to see some rivals putting their troubles behind them
and solving their issues in a calm....
GASPING Oi! I knew it.
Cattus has been at the sausage bin.
That is it.
This rivalry has gone far enough.
It's time to settle it once and for all.
And back in history, rivals had a way of settling things called a duel.
It was a one-on-one fight, sometimes to the death.
And the hotheaded Russian poet, Alexander Pushkin,
tried to have 22 of them.
Of course, I'm not challenging her to a duel.
I shall take the more mature approach to settling our problems,
I'll blow a raspberry and run away.
BLOWS RASPBERRY, CAT SCREECHING Oh!
So, what do you fancy doing tonight?
I thought we could hang out with Pushkin.
Oh, really? Pushkin? You know what he's like. He's a genius.
People say he's one of the world's greatest poets.
Yes, but he's always starting fights with people.
You remember what happened with his uncle?
So I say to this man...
Oh, Pushkin. How lovely to see you.
Uncle, you knew I had feelings for this woman.
I go to toilet and now you are ruining my chances.
You are doing that all yourself.
We were just chatting, nephew.
There is only one way to settle this.
Bring me my swords, Uncle...
..a duel.
Perhaps we better avoid parties. But come on,
how much trouble could Pushkin get into at dinner? Really?
And then Pushkin tells the police officer,
"Hey, those aren't my trousers."
LAUGHING
A delightful story.
You are funny, Pushkin.
You make me sound like a buffoon and you are terrible at anecdotes.
I demand a duel.
Definitely not dinner. Hmm.
Oh, the theatre. After last time?
That play was terrible.
How could you tell? You were shouting all the way through.
Rude!
A duel.
How many duels has Pushkin gotten himself into now?
21 and counting.
Who wants a duel?
A duel with this entire group of people.
A duel right now.
Civelle. Oh, hey, Pushkin.
A duel.
You know what?
Maybe we don't invite Pushkin.
Hey, gang, what we up to tonight?
Um... Hold that thought. I got a duel.
You there, prepare to... GUNSHOTS
Oh! Oh, uh.
Greatest friends,
I have been killed by a duel.
Who could have foreseen such an end for me?
Um...
Everyone? Yeah, literally everyone.
You're always fighting people.
How dare you speak to me like that.
I challenge you both to a d...
Dinner? Oh, yeah.
Bonjour, I am Frederic Cournet, French war hero,
and I am fighting a duel against Emmanuel Barthelemy...
..because I said some naughty things about him that he did not like.
My tip for you is to fight your duelling rival
like a gentleman.
GUNSHOT Ah! I missed.
But he still has a loaded gun
and tradition says that I cannot fire again.
So, if I'm honest with you,
it does not look good for me.
Hey, my gun does not work.
That sounds like good news.
But, as a gentlemen, I must allow my rival to take his turn,
so I will lend him my gun.
Oh, thank you very much.
Hi, guys. Hey.
So, I will assume the position. LAUGHING
But of course, he is also a gentleman,
so he will deliberately miss.
It is the honourable thing to...Ah! GUNSHOT
Huh.
Maybe being a gentleman is not all it is cracked up to be.
SINGING: I won the duel, you silly, silly boy.
Barthelemy wins by total knockout.
Remember to follow me at...
It is a pun, a play on words.
Sometimes the fiercest beefs in history
weren't just between the actual rivals themselves.
Their fans also got involved.
Believe it or not, there was quite a bit of fan-feuding
in the world of 18th-century opera.
Basically, picture the Swifties going up against the Stylers,
but with bigger wigs and more hissing.
Oh!
Oh, Lord Beddingham,
I am so looking forward to this opera.
I couldn't agree more, Lady Rupoll,
there's so much to enjoy.
The singing, the drama, the artistry. So true.
But most of all, what I love
is cheering on my favourite opera singer, Francesca Cuzzoni,
as she crushes her rival, Faustina Bordoni.
CHANTING: Cuzzoni! Cuzzoni! Cuzzoni!
Oh, I love my girl, Cuzzoni, she's so much better than that
screeching, rubbish Faustina. Ugh!
CHANTING: We hate you, Faustina, we do!
Don't look now, Lord Beddingham,
but there's a couple of Faustina fans on the approach.
Well, if it isn't the KLUTZ-zoni squad. Oh! Good one.
Yeah, OK.
Hi there, FRAUD-stinas.
I'll have you know that Faustina is the future of opera singing.
She's modern, she's agile,
and she can sing fast, challenging music.
And your Cuzzoni is just a slow has-been.
How dare you? She's a classic.
I've heard that Cuzzoni is so uncooperative,
that Handel had to threaten to throw her out the window
to get her to do anything.
I'll throw you out the window in a second.
And my son, Horace, says she's short and squat with a dough crust face.
You're short and squat with a dough crust face.
Hey, don't say that. Why not?
Because you're my wife, and it's hurtful.
When Faustina comes out on stage, I'm going to hiss at her.
Every time Cuzzoni gets on stage, I'm going to hiss at her.
HISSING
You hiss like Faustina sings.
Absolute rubbish, mate. Oi, what? Hold me back.
CHANTING: Oh, you're going home in a horse-drawn ambulance.
GASPING Look, over there.
It's Cuzzoni and Faustina.
CHANTING: You're good at opera, you're good at opera.
Oh, no, it's those weird opera fans who think we hate each other.
Well, we have to pretend.
This rivalry's great for selling tickets.
Oh, I hate you, Faustina!
You tell her, Cuzzoni!
Not as much as I hate you.
CHANTING: We love you, Faustina, we do!
We love you, Faustina, we do!
Oh, I love a bit of opera.
Figaro, Figaro, Figaro, Figaro.
Oh! CAT SCREECHING
Oh, ugh!
Cattus!
Never appreciated art, that cat.
Well, married couples really did fight
over those rival opera singers.
But then, sadly, sometimes even the best of friends can fall out
and become frenemies.
As King Henry II found out
when he decided to make his friend, Thomas Becket,
the Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1162.
That did not end well. Mm, mm, mm.
Henry number two here, calling broseph number one.
And have I got some news for you?
Oh, I've done it.
I've made you, Thomas Becket,
my bestest bud in the whole wide world,
Archbishop of Canterbury.
Or should that be Archbishop of BANTER-bury? Am I right?
Henners, oh, you have no idea how much this means to me.
Running this church comes before everything.
Oh, some papers from you.
I'll get straight on them, boss.
Well, you're not really my boss now, are you?
It's the big man upstairs.
But you'll always be my bestie.
BABY CRYING I've just, um, sorry. I'm...
No, I'm not sad, um, I promise.
I'm very happy.
Trish, can you help me with this? Trish?
Bro, Tom,
um, you know, the whole point of giving you the church job
was so you'd run it, sort of, how I wanted.
Could you maybe start doing that, please?
Thanks.
I'm really hurt.
I assumed I got this job because you thought I'd be good at it,
not because you thought that I'd just do whatever you said.
Back it up.
BABY LAUGHING Don't... No.
I'm not supposed to be happy, I'm supposed to be moody.
Trish, help me with this.
Tommy, dude, the whole point of me changing the rules
so clergymen could be tried in my courts, not your church courts,
was to increase my power and raise me money.
If you undo that, you are costing me big time.
Hurry up, Henry! Got to go.
I'm giving young Henry a bit of a coronation.
Look, I'll talk to you when you're back.
Still BFFs and all that, you know.
Love you, blah, blah, blah.
Honestly, no-one rid me of this turbulent priest?
He's becoming a right pain in my royal butt.
That's weird.
Where they going? You know that thing's still on?
Oh, no!
So, Henry, it's come to this. Open up in the name of the King.
You send your knights to arrest me
cos you're too chicken to face me yourself.
Well, open the door, Trish.
I've got nothing to be afraid of.
Right. Come here. HE SCREAMS
These knights are really scary. Quiet you.
No. Henry, send help.
DOG BARKING Oh, not that again.
Trish!
Hey, Becket, dude.
To be honest, I'm not sure you'll get this where you are.
I just wanted to say super soz about what happened
with, you know, my knights killing you.
But, on the plus side, I hear the Pope's making you a saint,
which is... Wow.
And, yeah, maybe I'll dedicate that new London bridge
I'm thinking of building, to you.
So...we good?
Yeah?
Please don't haunt me.
Cool.
Oh. Ah!
Eleanor, how do I change the filter?
This summer comes a rivalry
65 million years in the making.
Two dinosaur-bone hunters,
Edward Drinker Cope and Othniel Charles Marsh,
are the best of friends.
I'm going to name this dinosaur Ptyonius marshii.
Oh, after me?
Well, I'm naming this one after you.
HE GASPS It's called Edward? Uh, no.
Mosasaurus copeanus.
Oh, well, I guess that's good too.
Thank you, friend.
But when Cope takes his friend to a quarry in New Jersey
searching for fossils,
a rivalry is born.
What?
POUNDING FOOTSTEPS
I've got a bone to pick with you.
You asked the quarry workers
to tell you about their fossil finds before me.
You can't prove a thing.
Mr Marsh, we discovered something. Shh!
And you asked us to tell you before we told him.
A betrayal that leads to fierce competition.
Well, I had to rush it, but I've done it.
My drawing of a Elasmosaurus
has been printed in a very important journal.
Shame you put the head at the wrong end.
Oh, my reputation!
I'll have to try and buy up all the copies,
just so nobody can see my shame.
When a friendship becomes a rivalry,
strife finds a way.
Dear sir, I have a story for your newspaper
about a certain Edward Drinker Cope.
Oh, and I don't suppose you know where I can hire a spy?
How dare you spy on me? Well, what are you doing right now?
Rivalry in tooth and claw.
It'll be DINO-mite.
We Royals were also prone to the odd rivalry,
which meant things could get a bit icky between us.
And by icky, I mean massive invasion-y.
Although, of course, it never had anything to do with me.
Sorting out the beefs of the past...
Pharaoh Khufu, don't tell me how to run my great courtroom.
I don't tell you how to build a great pyramid.
..with the justice of today.
Although, pointy side up, just saying.
Welcome to...
Empress Dowager Cixi of the Qing Dynasty, China,
is going up against her frenemy and royal rival Queen Victoria,
regarding a rebellion taking place in China in 1899.
Right, now, you might be the combined rulers
of over 800 million people,
but in this courtroom, I'm in charge.
Now, Empress, what's the issue?
We're having a slight disagreement
about how her country won't stop invading mine.
Oh, here we go.
Uh, talking. Shh!
It all started with the Boxers. Oh, I love boxers.
Let's get ready to Rinder. No, no, no.
Not that kind of boxer, babe.
The Boxers are a secret society of people in China,
and they started a rebellion.
Now Britain is using that as an excuse to invade.
Ha, ha, ha! Classic us.
So, I sent telegrams to Queen Victoria,
reminding her of our special connection.
We're both older leaders, ruling over vast populations.
She is obsessed with me.
Apparently, she has a portrait of me in her room. Just a small one.
You see? Well, at least I run my empire.
You have hardly anything to do with your country's decisions.
I am just as much of an empress as you are.
Then will you stop invading my country and stealing things?
Oh, how dare you? I do not steal things.
Oh, yeah? Tell him about the dog.
SHE GASPS What about the dog?
Well, your lovely Rinder-sty,
one of my returning soldiers
brought me back a darling little Pekinese from China,
which it just so happened, had been looted from her palace.
But how was I to know it had been looted?
They called the dog Looty.
Yeah, maybe she likes playing the lute?
She stole the dog from me. I want a dog from her.
What? Give me a dog.
Right, we're obviously not going to sort this out today.
I suggest we adjourn and come back tomorrow.
No, soz, babes. I'm not available tomorrow.
Why on earth not? We're invading China.
You see? Unbelievable.
So, if we've learned anything,
it's that rivalries don't often lead to things improving.
And that's why Cattus and I have made up.
Oh, strokey, strokey.
BFFs forever.
Yes, it's always better to settle your differences in a friendly way.
Not that these two ever paid any attention to that.
Royal rivals King Philip II of Spain and Queen Elizabeth I
continued to annoy each other throughout their lives
in pretty much any way they could.
king of Spain
England I reign
gone
perfect fit
Catholic bit
can be friends
it's an easy decision
religion
my chances
romances
both of us
I can cause a fuss
empire, I can deploy, yeah
just to annoy ya.
Yeah
your treasure
measure
Catholic plots
Queen of the Scots
me much
with the Dutch
Spanish Armada
gonna have to try harder.
Ha, ha, ha. Yeah.
to be a threat
bit of debt
own fleet
retreat
gonna end?
could have been friends
hostilities cease
work out peace
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