All language subtitles for Horrible Histories S03E03 Episode 3 1080p AMZN WEB-DL DDP2 0 x264-alfaHD_track4_[eng]-en

♪ Terrible Tudors,
Gorgeous Georgians

♪ Slimy Stuarts,
Vile Victorians

♪ Woeful wars,
Ferocious fights

♪ Dingy castles,
Daring knights

♪ Horrors that defy description,
Cutthroat Celts, awful Egyptians

♪ Vicious Vikings, cruel crimes,
Punishment from ancient times!

♪ Roman, rotten,
rank and ruthless

♪ Cavemen, savage,
fierce and toothless

♪ Groovy Greeks,
Brainy sages

♪ Mean and measly Middle Ages

♪ Gory stories, we do that

♪ And your host a talking rat

♪ The past is no longer
a mystery

♪ Welcome to
Horrible Histories ♪

[NARRATOR READING]

Much of the First World War
was fought in the trenches

and life in the trenches
was truly frightful.

-Eh, up.
-Billy Boy!
Welcome to the trenches.

Thanks Charlie. I'm just
going to drop my kit bag
in my bedroom.

-I'm desperate for the toilet.
-Of course, go ahead.

Where is the bedroom?

-Well, you're in it.
-You what?

Only the officers get a separate
dugout. The rest of us sleep on
the floor, in the mud.

[RATS SQUEAKING]

-Oh!
-With the rats.

Oh, disgusting!
Where are the toilets?

It's over there,
behind the trenches.

Though, rule one. Never, ever...

[EXPLOSION]

[COUGHING]

As I was saying,
never use the toilets
first thing in the morning.

The Germans know
that we tend to go then,

so they always fire shells
at the toilet sheds,

try and catch us
with our trousers down.
So to speak.

-Righto.
-So we tend use the bucket.

You know, I think
I'll just hold it in.

Can't say I blame you.
So then, rule two...

[GUNSHOT]

Never poke your head
up above the trenches.

Oh, mommy! That was close!

Hey, give us a sip of that brew,
calm me nerves.

Rule three,
watch out for the water.

Yeah, we put chloride and lime
in it to kill the germs.

-Good.
-Yeah, not if you're
not used to it, though.

Tends to give you
very bad diarrhoea.

[STOMACH GURGLING]

[GROANS] Gangway!

[EXPLOSION]

-I think somebody
forget rule one.
-Right.

I won't be a minute.

Just for the record, Billy,
rats are not disgusting.

Unsavoury, perhaps,
but not disgusting.

Yes, life in the trenches
was hard, and when
you didn't have much,

you had to make good use
of what you'd got.

Hi, I'm a shouty man,

and I'm here to tell you
about the multi-purpose
liquid revolution.

New World War One Wee-wee.

-Wee-wee?
-Yes, wee-wee.

Are your hard army boots
giving you blisters?

-Aye, happen they are.
-Then just soften up
that tough leather

with new World
War One Wee-wee.

Wow, that feels much better.
They feel like slippers now.

Well, slippers that have
been weed on.

Is your machine
gun overheating?

-Aye, happen it is.
-Run out of water?

Aye, happen I have.

Then just cool it down
with new World War
One Wee-wee.

Watch out, incoming!
Gas attack!

-Mislaid your gas mask?
-Aye, happen I have.

Then wee on a hankie
and wrap it round
your nose and mouth.

[GROANS IN DISGUST]

This will protect you against
some poisonous gases,
not all of them.

Are you sure these gasses are
worse than the stench of wee?

Pretty sure. Yes, that's new
World War One Wee-wee.

Wee for victory, boys.
And how much does it cost?

Why, one pee, of course.

[NARRATOR READING]

You won't believe it,
but some of the first warriors

to invade Britain
were actually invited over.

Hello, and welcome to
Invasion, Invasion, Invasion.

This week, we're looking
for somewhere in
mainland Britain,

for two Saxon brothers,
Hengest and Horsa, to take over.

Let's go and meet them.
Hengest, Horsa,

I've brought you here
to the Island of Thanet,
just off the coast of Kent.

I think it ticks all your boxes,
but what do you think?

Well, it's a little bit small.

Ah, that is a shame
because the vendor,

Vortigern, King of the Britons,
is willing to offer
you this for free.

I should hope so, he owes us
big time for helping him drive
up the pigs back to Scotland.

Y, we're really good at
fighting, you know.

-Well, I am anyway.
-Your not as good as me.

How can you say that?
I'm the best at fighting!

So, anyway, we do really
need somewhere bigger.

-Where did you have in mind?
-Kent.

Ooh, lovely!
Whereabouts in Kent?

-Kent. The whole of Kent.
-Whole of Kent.

Hengest and Horsa have their
hearts set on the whole of Kent.

But first, they'll have
to negotiate with
the current owner,

Vortigern, King of the Britons.

Oh, okay you're sure.

We'll give you nothing for it.

Well, that's a toughie.
I'm going to have to say no.

-You drive a hard bargain.
-How about if I offer you...

-My daughter, Rowena.
-Ah, yes, it's a deal.

-Do I get a say in this?
-No, probably not.

Well, that's great. We've got
them exactly what they wanted.

You know, thinking about it,
Kent does still
feel a bit small.

We'd like somewhere bigger
than this, please.

So, are you going to offer me
more attractive daughters?

-I have a cousin but...
-We thought we
could offer you this.

-We're really good at fighting.
-Well, I am, anyway.

-You're not as good as me!
-I won that competition!

Ah! Come back, British king!

Negotiations over further land
have got a bit out of hand.

In fact, they've turned
into an all-out war

and Horsa has been forced
to pull out of the deal.

[EXCLAIMS]

I told you I was a better
fighter than him.

In an effort
to finalise negotiations,

Hengest has invited Vortigern
over for a peace banquet.

Right, just lay the table.

So spoon here,
knife, in the back
of their necks!

Ah, dinner! How civilised.
So much better than fighting,
I find.

-Shall I carve?
-Yes.

And there's no food,
There's no food!

So he killed everybody, then
asked me whether I wanted
to die,

and, I gave him the whole
of the south-east of England.

Mmm, tough negotiator.

-So, Hengest. Happy?
-Yeah, for sure.

Good. Well, it just goes to
show you can move right
up the property ladder

if you've got a good eye
for a bargain.

And you're really
good at fighting.

See you next week.

Hopefully.

History and legend are a bit
mixed-up in the story

of Hengest and Horsa,
so it's probably only
about 50% accurate.

But historians generally
agree that Hengest turned
a peace banquet

with Vortigern
into a murderous rampage.

The rat knows all.

[NARRATOR READING]

Greetings, my devotees of dread.

I am Vincenzo Larthos
and this week's scary story

is from Stuart times.
The Tale Of Evil Edmund.

It was 1632 when Edmund,
a young lad,

from the blood curling county
of Lancashire,

first realised that he
had the gift of being able
to spot a witch.

[CACKLING SOUND]

[IMITATING CACKLING] Indeed.

One day, Edmund was
playing on the moors

when he spotted two
dogs trailing chains.

He tried to get the dogs to
hunt, but they would not

so he beat them with
a stick and suddenly they
turned into men.

MAN: Hello, there.

-That's our "men"
sound effect, is it?
-MAN: Hello, there.

It's not very good.

Of course, Edmund knew at once
that this must be witchcraft.

And for reasons he could
not explain, he immediately
knew who the witch was.

It was his next-door neighbour,
Frances Dickinson.

Edmund rushed to confront the
witch, but she tied him up

and dragged him
to a witch's coven,

where he saw for himself
all the witches and warlocks,

feasting and chanting.

And he was afraid
that the high point

of their sinister ceremony
would be a sacrifice.
Edmund himself!

[DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING]

Edmund fought his way
loose of his shackles
and ran to the local magistrate.

In no time, the neighbour was
arrested and sentenced to death.

Edmund became
the stuff of legend.
Able to identify any witch.

He was paid handsomely
for his unique gift

and what fate would befall these
foul witches and warlocks
of that cruel coven?

Well, they were all
released without charge.

What?

It turned out Edmund was a liar.

He made up all the
stuff about witches.

His dad made him do it
to make money!

There were no dogs
in the first place

and the lady next door was let
out of jail with an apology!

This is not a scary story.
That's an annoying child story.

Right, I'm not
doing this any more.

I've played Macbeth you know,
Macbeth, I gave a
semi-competent performance.

That's not me saying that,
that's the
Wolverhampton Gazette.

I'm better than this.

[WOMAN READING]

The Stuarts really had some
silly ideas about medicine.

Don't worry, Paul.
I've called an ambulance.

Make way! Make way!
Make way! Make way.

Make way! Make way!
Historical Paramedics.
What seems to be the problem?

It's my friend.
He said his stomach hurt...

-Plague! It sounds like plague.
-Plague!

-No, it isn't.
-It's nearly always plague,
where we come from.

-And where's that?
-The Stuart Era.

What do you think, Jack?
Tobacco pipe or a
gold coin in the mouth.

It's not plague.
We don't even
have plague any more.

Then how do you explain
these red marks, woman?

-Could be measles.
Nigel, go and get Flossy.
-Could be measles.

-What's Flossy?
-I think you mean, who's Flossy.

-Here she is.
-That's a sheep.

Yes, and we need to get her
in bed with this boy while
she's still warm.

-It's the best cure for measles.
-It's not measles, he's had
the vaccine.

The vac what?

Madam, if it be not measles,
then why does he have spots
on his face?

Because he's a teenager?
Please help him, he's in pain.

-What be his name?
-Paul.

[YELLING] Where
do ye hurt, Paul?

I told you, his belly aches.

Belly ache. Do you think
it could be belly ache?

-We should stone him,
just to be sure.
-Stone him?

It's fine. We lay a large
stone on his belly,

one upon which the sun
has never shone. We get them
mainly from Scotland.

I could only find
this extra large one.

[GROANS]

-That didn't sound good.
-No.

-Nigel, get the resuscitator.
-Oh, you have a resuscitator?

Yes. A tobacco resuscitator.

Good. Now, get the bellows
and blow smoke up his bottom.

-What?
-Turn him over, Nigel.

Oh, it's no good, there seems
to be a massive stone
on top of him.

Blast! Why are there
always complications?

[SIREN WAILING]

-We should leave.
-Madam, I'm sorry.
We've done all we can do.

You've made him worse!

Yes, that's pretty
much all we can do.

-Run away.
-Run away! Run away!

Oh, no! Those historical
ones have been here
again, haven't they?

Jane? Jane, get some sponges,
and a crowbar.

And the winner of this
year's Most Ridiculous
Historical Cure Award

goes to the Stuart's
tobacco resuscitators.

[CHEERING]

Will the inventor please come
up and collect his prize?

[THUDDING]

Looks like he's
fainted with shock.

Quick! Someone blow
smoke up his bottom! It won't
work but it sounds funny.

Blow smoke up his bottom!

[LAUGHING]

[NARRATOR READING]

♪ Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

♪ They're funny 'cause
they're true

♪ Stupid deaths, stupid deaths

♪ Hope next time it's not you

What, this old thing?
No, I've had it ages.

About 600 years. Next! Name!

James II of Scotland.
Son of James I,
father of James III.

James I, James II, James III.

Not very imaginative,
you Scottish royals, are you?

What you lot need is this.

Death's Big Book Of Baby Names.

Over two copies sold.

Well, James, let's
hear your story.

The stupider the better, please.

Right, well, we Scots were
beseeching Roxburgh castle,

which was a Scottish castle
being held by the English.

[SNORING]

Now, to ensure victory,

I'd brought along the
very latest in modern
medieval warfare, a cannon.

-Ooh, a cannon!
-Of course, in my day,

they'd a nasty habit
of blowing up in your face.

Oh, goody!
My cannon was from Flanders.

It had special thick metal
hoops to prevent the barrell
from splitting.

-I called it The Lion.
-Well, at least you
didn't call it James.

I was dying to see
the Lion in action

so I had it taken up
to the castle walls.

-Yes?
-My men warned me to take cover.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I said,
"This is The Lion.
It won't explode.

"It's the greatest cannon
in the world."

And?

The cannon exploded, my leg was
shattered, I died of blood loss.

[LAUGHING]

The Lion bit you!
Well, they do do that,
don't they?

They do do that!

[LAUGHING] Priceless.

Well, James, you're through
to the afterlife.

-Thanks. That's great.
-Ah, priceless.

Ooh, don't forget your book.

Oh, he doesn't want one. Rats.

Could have sold another copy.

Oh, well. Next!

♪Stupid deaths, stupid deaths,

♪ Hope next time it's not you

And James II wasn't the
only medieval Scot to
meet a grisly end.

[ROCK MUSIC PLAYING]

♪ I am William Wallace
my life was a mystery

♪ Some say born 1272
Some say 1263

♪ Was that Malcolm of Paisley
Maybe Alan from Ayr

♪ Did I have a wife or no
Do you really care?

♪ They said I had
a big red beard,
but all you need to know

♪ I was a Scottish rebel
and the English were my foe

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ This is war I cried

♪ Many English fought me

♪ And many English died

♪ I took against the English
back when I was fairly wee

♪ 'Cause an Englishman called
Selby bullied my whole family

♪ It upset me so I struck him
dead, well, wouldn't you?

♪ An English sheriff came along
Guess what, I killed him too

♪ They say he killed my wife
so he deserved what he got

♪ Then England's King Ed came
for me, oh, I'm scared, not!

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ Possibly six-foot-seven

♪ But all that really matters is

♪ I send Englishmen to heaven

♪ 40,000 English came to
Stirling Bridge for me

♪ They had to cross a narrow
bridge, to get to us, you see

♪ We held them off and pushed
them back, it was no contest

♪ Bridge collapsed, hundreds
drowned, of course
I killed the rest

♪ I celebrated Stirling Bridge
Another Scottish win

♪ By decorating my sword
with the English general's skin

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ Scottish legend too

♪ Fought for Scottish freedom

♪ Was a hero through and through

♪ Here's where my
rebel story comes unstuck

♪ At Falkirk defeated
I'd run out of luck

♪ Spent seven years playing
hide and seek

♪ Captured central London
Tried for treason, what a cheek

♪ King Ed hanged me
then a lovely touch

♪ Pulled my guts out
Guess he didn't like me much

♪ William Wallace Scottish rebel

♪ In Scotland my heart lived

♪ Though sadly my head wound up

♪ On a spike on London Bridge

Ooh, that smarts!

[NARRATOR READING]

When Henry VIII died,
his son Edward VI came to power,

aged just nine.
But he died only six years later

and after that, it wasn't clear
who would take the throne.

ANNOUNCER: Are you a
Protestant? Are you vaguely
related to Henry VIII?

Is your name Lady Jane Grey?

Then you've won our star prize!

You're going to experience
what it's like to be
Queen for nine days.

Wow!

That's nine whole days
in charge of England.

Here's what you get.
Day one, we set you up
in royal apartments

at the Tower of London
to await your coronation.

Ooh, this is nice,
I could get used to this.

ANNOUNCER: I don't think so.

Day two, we throw
in a crown for free.
Go on, try it on for size.

Okay, what harm can it do?

ANNOUNCER: You'll find
that out on day nine.

-Sorry?
-ANNOUNCER: Nothing.

Day three,
it's coronation time.

Now you're the Queen,
you get to go out
and meet your public.

-They don't even
know who you are.
-We don't even know who she is.

ANNOUNCER: They were
expecting a different
person to be queen.

We were expecting a different
person to be queen.

-ANNOUNCER: We smell of wee
-We smell of...

Ah, I see what you're trying
to do there.

Actually, we do.

Day four, you send a letter
to Henry VIII's daughter,
Mary Tudor

asking her to recognise you
as queen.

-Fingers crossed.
-ANNOUNCER: Day five,
you get Mary's reply.

-What does it say? What?
-Bog off.

Well, that's the gist of it.

ANNOUNCER: Day six, relax
and take in the
luxurious surroundings,

while Mary Tudor amasses an army
to have you removed from power.

What?

Day seven, relax and take in
the luxurious surroundings.

-Like I could be any
less relaxed.
-Ma'am.

Our armies have been defeated
in Cambridge by Mary Tudor.

She says she's the Queen now
and she's marching on London.

Okay, so now I'm less relaxed.

Day eight, relax and take
in the luxurious surroundings.

Enough of this
relaxing nonsense, okay?

I'll have you know,
I'm so stressed my
skin is peeling off.

Oh, yuck! That's not
very regal, is it?

And day nine, relax and...

Oh, all right, panic as
the people support Mary Tudor

as their rightful queen
and all your
supporters desert you

to save their own skins.

Too late for yours,
it's all peeled off anyway.

-Well, this can't get any worse.
-Yes, it can.

And this fantastic offer ends
in true Tudor style,

with a visit to
the executioner.

I never wanted to be
queen in the first place.

With queen for nine days,

the shortest reign in
history is yours, whether
you want it or not.

Warning, limited to nine days
only. Offer expires in 1553.

That's right, Lady Jane Grey
was queen for just nine days.

After which Mary I was queen
for five years and 121 days.

Followed by Elizabeth I,

who reigned for an impressive
44 years and 127 days,

making her the longest-reigning
Tudor queen by miles and miles.

And miles were very confusing
in Tudor times.

-Are we there yet?
-Alas not, your majesty.

-Are we there yet?
-Alas not, your majesty.

-But I'm bored.
-Indeed, your majesty.

Sadly, the journey
from York to London
is many, many English miles

and, well, we've
only just set off.

-London miles.
-Excuse me?

Well, since we are
heading to London,

surely her majesty would
like the distance
in London miles?

What's the difference?

Well, the English mile is a
rather confusing 6,610 yards,

whereas the more refined London
mile, is a nice round 5000.

Of course both are vastly
preferable to the
vastly stingy Irish mile.

A mere 2,240 yards.

Why not use a good
old Welsh mile? It's a
whopping 7,900 yards, no?

It means fewer miles overall,
makes the journey
seem a lot shorter.

I remember I did a walking
trip in Scottish miles once.

1,976 yards.

Indeed. It seemed
to go on forever.

They were all like, "Oh,
it's only a few more miles."

And I was like, "Is that
English miles, London miles,

"Welsh miles or Irish miles?"
And they were like,

"Well, depends if you mean
London yards,

Welsh yards, Scottish yards..."

[SCREAMS]

From now on, there will
just be one mile for everyone.

-Pick a number
between one and ten.
-One.

-Seven.
-Six.

Right. From now on, one mile
will be 1,760 yards.

-Is that...?
-English yards! Normal
English yards. Understood?

-ALL: Yes, your majesty.
-Right, how many
miles is it to London?

[ALL SPEAKING]

And you wonder why I cut
so many heads off!

Are we there yet?

Alas not, your majesty.

[NARRATOR READING]

Hello and welcome to
The News At When. When? 1789,

when the people of France
decided that King Louis XVI

and his rich friends
had been living the
high life, at their expense.

For long enough and that it was
time for common people
to run the country.

Here with more details is
Bob Hail with the French
revolution report. Bob.

Thank you, Sam.
Well, sacre bleu me,

if that isn't France, which
it is, if it's not the 1780's

which it is, and if that right
there isn't a very
angry Frenchman.

Which it is. And he's got every
right to be, because back then,

France was a country
of le haves and le have-nots.

The posh people had fine food,
fancy clothes, palaces
and helicopters

while the poor people, like
this chap, didn't even have
the bread on their table.

But how can the... What?
I don't think I
did say helicopters.

But how do these poshos afford
all that stuff, I hear you ask?

By taking money from poor
taxpayers, like our friend here,

and borrowing even more money
from other countries.

Which means that, by 1789,
France is riddled with debt

and most French people
are penniless and hungrier
than an alligator on the moon.

All while King Louis XVI and his
posh chums are living it up,
big style.

Terrible, but that's
just the way things are.

Not a lot you can do about it,
right?

Wrong!

The commoners hatch a plan
to remove the king

and run the country themselves,
which signals the start of
the one and only,

the world famous,
ladies and gentlemen,
it's the French Revolution.

Vive le revolution!

Sorry, I get a bit carried away.

The revolutionaries don't hang
around. They storm the Bastille,

a famous fortress in Paris,
partly to show the king

who's boss and partly to steal
a load of explosives.

[EXPLOSION]

Well, that's angry mobs
for you. So King Louis,
fearing for his life,

dresses up as a Russian
aristocrat's butler, a bit weird
and runs off to hide up here

in a place called,
something or other. A cunning
plan that works this much.

Yup, not at all. The King's
captured, brought back to Paris
and told he's not in charge.

He keeps the Crown, but loses
most of his power and influence.

And helicopters and that's...
What? I didn't say helicopters!

Things go from bad to worse
for King Louis.

In 1792, France declares
war on Austria,
a neighbouring country

who want the revolutionaries out
and the King back in

They told the revolutionaries,
if they don't put the King
back in,

they'll start doing some
pretty horrible things to
the French people.

A very clever tactic
that works this much.

Yup, not at all.

Turns out the Revolutionaries
hate being told what to do.

They ignore the threat,
accuse the King
of plotting with Austrians

and cut his head off.
They cut his wife's head off.

Then they just get a bit
carried away, cutting heads off
left, right and centre,

declaring anyone who doesn't
agree with everything

they say as an enemy of the
revolution, a crime punishable
by, yes, you've guessed it,

having your head cut off.
In fact, if we look at
the head-cutting-off-ometer

we can see that somewhere
between 16 and 40,000 heads
were cut off in just two years.

So many in fact, that they not
only broke our thingy,

but they had to invent
a new head-cutting-off thingy,
called the guillotine.

So at that time, it was all,
"Cut his head off!
Cut her head off!"

Finally, after five long
years and lots of heads
being cut off,

the people of France said,
"Stop cutting people's
heads off!"

And they took the man
responsible for most of the
heads being cut off,

and you guessed it,
they cut his head off.

And that's the end of
the French Revolution,

the end of French royalty
and if I don't get
a cup of tea and biscuit

in the next three seconds,
it might very
well be the end of...

Oh, thank you so much.
Thank you. Thank you.

Ah, that feels so much better!

You know, now I think of it,
I did say helicopter, didn't I?

I think I just need a holiday.

Sam, couple of weeks
in the Maldives?

One of the young officers
to make his name

under the new French regime
was a certain
Napoleon Bonaparte,

and in 1797, he sent an army
to invade Wales

because there were no British
regiments there to defend it.

Let's join Mike Peabody in
to find out more.

I'm here with one of
the 1,400 French force,

known as La Legion Noire,
the Black Legion.

Napoleon picked you for this
invasion, you must
be the very best.

Ah, no, no. The very worst.

No, the best are busy
fighting in Europe.

La Legion Noire is made up
of convicts

who are given the option of
fighting or rotting in jail.

[HUSHING]

Pardon, excuse moi,
We had a little
party last night,

lots of food, lots of wine...

They are sleeping it off.

But shouldn't you be preparing
for battle? I mean,

the English could repel
your invasion at any moment.

No, I tell you
we are completely safe.

My spies tell me there
are no British forces for
a 100 miles

and I will stake
my reputation on that.

Sir, I think the British army
are coming over the hill.

[LAUGHS] There
goes my reputation.

Okay, then. All right.
Allez, allez, allez!

Come, this is the moment
we have trained for!

They are upon us.
On my orders,

surrender!

I think it's just women, though.

Are you sure, they
are dressed in red.
You cannot be too careful.

-Why've they got their hands up?
-I think they're
surrendering to you.

Surrendering to us? Why,
we just came down to the beach

to see what
Frenchmen look like.

I think it's your red jackets.
From a distance,

your jackets make you look
a bit like the British army.

Well, this is just traditional
women's dress in Wales.

I'd keep that under your hats,
if I were you,

at least until
you've tied them up.

Oh, good thinking.
Come on girls,
let's get these men tied up.

So there we have it.
The very last
invasion of Britain,

defeated by a few Welsh
lady sightseers.

This is Mike Peabody,
live from Fishguard
for HHTV News,

back to you in the studio, Sam.

-Bonjour, mama!
-Sorry, can you not
do that waving, please?

Very irritating.

♪ Tall tales,
Atrocious acts,

♪ We gave you all
the fearsome facts

♪ The ugly truth no glam or glee

♪ We showed you all
the juicy bits

♪ Gory, ghastly, mean and cruel

♪ Stuff they don't teach you
at school

♪ The past is no longer
a mystery

♪ Hope you enjoyed
Horrible Histories ♪