Chelmsford 123 (1988–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - What's Your Poison? - full transcript
Ripped By mstoll
This isn't a country
- it's an armpit!
Functio, you did announce me on my
first official walkabout this morning?
Oh, yes.
You did request thousands
of people turn out
to wave flags, and shout
"Hurrah for the Governor"?
- Oh, I did, yes.
- Are they normally this enthusiastic?
Well, they're a very reserved race, the
Britons. They're probably just shy.
They're probably at home
eating their young.
What about that man this morning?
He was quite pleasant.
Oh, yes - the blind man who
thought I was a prostitute.
He was very friendly.
Well, he gave me a kiss, and
stuck his hand up my toga.
Hardly constitutes an
official greeting, does it?
Grasientus, go and get someone to give
me a spontaneous welcome at once.
And don't use force.
- What if we can't find anyone?
- Then use force, for God's sake.
What's the army coming to?
Well, if they won't come to me, I
suppose I'll have to go to them.
Yeah?
I am Aulus Paulinus.
Congratulations.
The new Roman Governor.
Prove it.
Um...
I give you my word.
Oh.
Oh, I see. So, some geezer dressed
like a prize tart comes to my house,
tells me he's Governor of
Britain, expects me to say,
"Good morrow, Governor. Come in.
Have a mug of
ale, Governor. What will
your soldiers have?
I'll just turn my back for a second
while you jump me, tie me up,
rape the wife, and run
off with my treasured
possessions and
valuable antiques."
I wasn't born yesterday, mate.
Uh...
It doesn't matter. I'II...
I'll look elsewhere.
No, no. Hang on, hang on, hang on.
Look, I'm
not saying you're not
Governor of Britain.
You just can't be too careful
these days, you know.
Yeah, all right, all right.
Look, I'll believe
you. Come on. Come in,
have a mug of ale.
Thank you. Uh... No,
it's all right.
- Perhaps some other time.
- Oh, yeah, I see.
We're not good enough for you, eh?
I dunno!
You bloody Romans, you come over 'ere
with your togas, your open-toed sandals,
your arty-farty mosaics!
Why don't you take your olive
oil, and bugger off back to Rome?
We found somebody.
Is that it? The
official welcome.
Well, I'm only a poor beggar.
Well, poor beggar, this is
your new Roman Governor.
I'm sure you'll be very
pleased to see him.
Oh...
Hail, great Governor.
Oh, great Governor, hail,
hail, Roman Governor!
All right, don't overdo it.
How much do you want?
Oh, thank you very much, Governor.
500 sesterces.
500?! It's a bit much, isn't it?
Not really. I mean,
what do I give you?
I give you three hail great Governors, two
grovels, and a touch of the forelock.
And this forelock costs money, you know.
It's one of my main overheads.
This is a disgrace.
Why don't you get
yourself a proper job?
Nah, can't now. Made
this my life, you see.
I mean, beggars
can't be choosers.
'Ere, Gargamadua, come
and look at this.
Blag doing his beggar routine for
the new governor. It never works.
If he gives Blag some
money, I'll show you my -
He's given Blag some money.
Bloody hell, this new bloke's more
of a pushover than I thought.
Shouldn't take long to show
him who's boss around here.
- Badvoc, sit down and eat your breakfast.
- Oh, sorry, darling.
Right...
- Where is it?
- On the floor.
- Bread and milk for my breakfast?
- That's what they have in Rome.
We're not in Rome.
Where's my egg and pig?
There's no egg, and no pig. They've
all been requisitioned by the Romans.
The Governor apparently wants
to eat like the Britons.
They've got a nerve. I
don't go round to their
houses stealing their olive
oil and togas, do I?
Yes.
Yeah, but that's not stealing, is it?
That is a political protest.
I am an oppressed minority.
You are a dinosaur.
Oh, thank you, darling.
You should be more
cooperative with the Romans.
You should be out there
now with the Governor,
setting an example for the
people of Chelmsford.
What? The people of Chelmsford wouldn't...
they wouldn't turn out in this weather
for a naked woman on horseback
giving away free ale,
let alone some Mediterranean poof
with leaves growing out of his head.
This new Governor has completely
misjudged the British temperament.
We're not like those Italians -
cold, efficient, always working.
We Britons are more...
laidback, easy-going.
Drink in one hand,
girl in the other.
We've got a sort of "tomorrow,
tomorrow" attitude to life.
So go on - be a darling, and make
us some decent breakfast, eh?
Of course, love. Tomorrow.
That's what I call a snub.
I felt about as welcome as a bowl of
truffles at a Macedonian wedding.
I agree. I'll go and pack up
my unguents, and we'll go.
No.
No...
The next time I set foot in Rome
it'll be at the head of an army.
An army I should have
trained here in this
godforsaken province where
I've been left to rot.
I'll teach them. I'll march through
Gaul, then across the Alps.
I shall sweep down through northern Italy,
drawing more men to my cause as I go.
Then I shall cross the Rubicon, and
thence along the Flaminian Way in triumph
with the people
shouting my name.
And finally I shall go into Rome
where I shall be proclaimed Emperor,
and God!
And if your plans go wrong?
I'll probably go into teaching.
What's that?
- Breakfast.
- What?!
Egg and pig.
It's what we have here. The
full British breakfast.
Eugghh! Egg and pig?! Eugghh!
What was that?
Yes, that was it.
- It means you're getting a cold.
- A cold what?
Just a cold. We have
lots of them here.
That and the weather gives
us something to talk about.
Blow.
Thank you.
Functio, I've had an idea.
Oh, God, he's had an idea.
I'm not going to be deterred
by this morning's wash-out.
I'm going to get the people
of Chelmsford on my side.
But how?
Free drink. Never fails.
Yes, of course.
We'll hold a huge banquet.
Invite Badvoc, the local
officials, a few tribal leaders.
Poison them, and then go back to Rome.
What a good idea.
No. Make them feel welcome.
Lavish our hospitality
upon them.
I think Grasientus has a point.
Ridiculous. He's the most
pointless person I've ever met.
I'm not saying we
would poison them,
but it would be a great opportunity
for someone to poison you.
Nonsense!
Why would any Briton
want to poison me?
Well, you're acting
head of a nation that
invaded them, enslaved
them, slaughtered them,
raped their women, stole
their land and homes.
They shouldn't take these
things so personally.
Look, I really must
get rid of this uh...
- Cold.
- Cold, yes.
Wolfbane the herbalist,
he's the one you want.
He has everything - cure-alls,
panaceas, aphrodisiacs,
poisons, you name it.
Will you excuse me? I must go
and make myself... useful.
Well, there's a first time
for everything, I suppose.
Now, Functio, you pop
down to this herbalist
chap and get me a
cold cure, will you?
Oh, and by the way, get a couple
of aphrodisiacs as well, will you?
I might get lucky
at the banquet.
I'm not saying you are
trying to rip me off,
Wolfbane, but this mistletoe
juice is useless.
This is one of the finest
aphrodisiacs known to man.
Let's get this straight
- this was supposed
to turn my wife into a
raving nymphomaniac.
Yes.
Well, she started speaking in a
deep voice, and growing a beard.
I thought you liked
strong women.
I think she's turning
into a bloke.
Did you follow the instructions?
I put it in her food every day.
No, I said rub it on
the offending part!
Until I gave her your potion she
didn't have an offending part!
Well, nobody's ever complained before. It's
very good stuff. Be with you in a moment.
Look, why don't you
just go and clear off?
I'll come back and
set my wife on you!
Yeah, yeah. Make sure
she has a shave first.
Now then, sir,
what's your problem?
Ah, I see, sir. It's
the nose, is it?
Very nasty. Do you
want it shortened, or
removed, or do you want
a bag for your head?
I want some poison.
Come on, sir, that's
a bit drastic.
It's not that bad. So
you're hideously ugly.
You probably don't have many
friends, don't pull many women.
You probably frighten
little children, but -
The poison is for Badvoc.
I mean...
he needs it to poison some rats.
Say no more, sir. I
get the picture.
Well, I've got three types of poisons - one
fast-acting, one medium, and one slow.
What's the difference?
Well, with this it's
just a quick mouthful...
Now, this one is
a little slower.
He finishes his meal, gets up from the
table saying, "Mm, that was del - Agghh!"
Now, the slow one...
He gets up from the table, makes
it up the stairs, goes to bed.
- Five years later - - I'll
take the fast-acting one.
- It's a popular range, sir. 500 sesterces.
- Here.
- He was in a hurry.
- One of Badvoc's men buying poison.
Probably going to a party.
Oh, my God!
Yes, I wonder who the unfortunate
person is gonna be this time.
- I've got a nasty hunch.
- I've got just the thing for that.
Nasty hunch cream. Put
it on three times a day.
Might grow a few hairs.
Don't worry.
Boom! Da-da!
- Was that it?
- Well?
Are you sure that flea juggling is
a very popular pastime in Britain?
They go mad about it. Stay.
And that's all I get
for 1,000 sesterces?
It's a top-class act.
No, I don't think so.
It's a bit pricey.
I'll stick to girls taking their clothes
off. Thank you for coming along.
You've squashed my act!
I demand compensation.
Guards...
Next, please.
- Flea murderer!
- Yes, thank you. We'll be in touch.
Functio?
Just... sniffing apples.
Lovely.
Aulus?
Are you still determined to
go ahead with this banquet?
Yes.
Well, in that case, I strongly recommend
that you engage the services of a...
food taster.
- Very well.
- I'll see to it.
You do that.
I am Cicero.
Good.
I am the entertainment for
this evening's banquet.
You're not the exotic
dancer, are you?
No.
- Oh, good.
- I am an epic poet.
I recite 10,000 lines of
Virgil without stopping.
- Really?
- I find it breaks the ice.
Ah.
Now, about the fee...
Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. No,
I wouldn't dream of taking a penny.
- Grasientus?
- Yes?
What are you doing?
Um... Arranging the olives.
Why?
I find it strangely relaxing...
olive arranging.
I see.
What is going on here today?
I've hired a food taster.
It's the Great Scipio.
Scipio? Your reputation
comes before you.
So does his stomach.
You need have no worries
about me, Aulus.
I can detect any sort of
poison in any sort of food.
This tongue can seek out the
slightest hint of venom.
Belladonna, strychnine, arsenic.
Any poison you care to mention.
Now, Scipio, your last master, if
my memory serves me correctly,
was Severus Magilenus, yes?
Oh, yes. For ten years I faithfully
tasted all his food. God rest his soul.
- Is he dead?
- Alas, these three months past, yes.
- Not of food poisoning.
- Ah.
Oh, no, no. Starvation.
Belladonna, strychnine
and arsenic.
- Are you sure that's what he said?
- I heard it with my own ears.
So he's got a court
poisoner there, has he?
Eh?
A court poisoner. You do know what a
court poisoner is, don't you, Blag?
Yeah, yeah. It's someone who makes
a living from poisoning people.
Then one day he gets...
caught...
Hence the term a
caught poisoner.
No, bogey brain. It's someone
who's going to poison Badvoc.
And his guests.
So, what do we do?
I think we should burst into
the villa on horseback,
tie the whole lot of
'em up by the ankles,
and drag 'em through the
streets of Chelmsford.
Then slit 'em down the front, tie
'em up by their own intestines
in stocks in the middle
of the marketplace,
throw bags of stinking
fish heads at 'em,
chop their toes off, and stuff
'em down their throats!
No, that's what they'll
be expecting us to do.
Any other brilliant suggestions?
Radulf?
Well...
Our intelligence tells us -
Our intelligence? Since when have
you lot had any intelligence?
No, no. All I meant was it looks
like you're gonna get poisoned.
Yes.
I was just gonna suggest...
you take along a food taster.
Eh?
You know, someone who'd
taste your food,
you know, risking their
own life to save yours.
Brilliant suggestion, Radulf.
All those in
favour of Radulf being
food taster say aye.
- Aye!
- Well done. You've got the job.
Right.
Now...
Imagine we're at a banquet.
Blag, Blag, what are you doing?
Well, I'm... I'm imagining
I'm at the banquet.
Blag...
Now, this is what happens.
I'm served with a
plate of meat, right?
Now, you taste a chunk. If it's not
poisoned, then it's OK for me to eat.
Right.
No, this bit's fine.
Good.
Now, ale.
Shut your eyes, Radulf.
I'm gonna poison one of
these three mugs of ale.
And I want you to tell
me which one it is.
- Right.
- Right, you've got a minute.
Right, which one was it?
Agghh!
I think he's dead.
Did he say which
one was poisoned?
No.
Brilliant. Radulf, you're fired.
Where the hell are they?
Don't worry. They're probably at home
making themselves look respectable.
They won't be here for
days in that case.
I'll go and check.
Scipio?
If they are coming along to poison
my food, I think it's only fair
we leave them some food
to poison, don't you?
Sorry, Aulus. I was
just limbering up.
Seeing there is a slight lull,
perhaps I could liven things up with my
50-verse epic poem about the great Aeneas?
Not just yet, Cicero.
We'll save the
recital till later.
When we're trying to
clear the building.
Our guests have arrived.
Good. Now, everybody,
look calm and relaxed.
Pray silence for Lord Badvoc,
son of Elmo the Horse Rustler,
noble Chieftain of
the Trinovantes,
powerful Overlord of the lands
north and east of Chelmsford,
and three-times runner-up in the
All-Britain Pillage-a-Village competition.
- Hail.
- And one or two of the lads.
- Evening, all.
- All right?
Badvoc, on behalf of
the Emperor Hadrian, I
extend the hand of
friendship and brotherhood
in the sincere hope that
our two great peoples
will be joined together as one
great, harmonious nation forever.
Cheers. Brought some booze.
Thank you.
Well, I think it is
time for a drink.
Badvoc, name your poison.
- Shall I do the poem now?
- Not just yet, Cicero.
Uh, no drink for us
tonight, thank you, Aulus.
Very well. In that case,
let us begin, gentlemen.
Much feasting lies ahead.
Please, sit.
Eat.
I'm sure you'll be
knocked out by the food.
To uh... to coin a phrase.
Uh...
Not for us tonight, Aulus. Me and
the men are on a bit of a diet.
Trying to keep them in shape.
Oh...
- I heard a very funny joke yesterday.
- Yes?
Very funny.
Now, the day before I didn't
hear any jokes at all.
I see.
Jokes are funny like
that, aren't they?
I mean, one day you'll hear one, and
the next day you won't hear one.
Absolutely.
Tomorrow I may hear a cracker.
On the other hand, I may go a month without
hearing so much as a shaggy dog story.
Ah...
What... What about yourself?
I'm very much the same, oh, yes.
I can hear a real joke on one day,
and the following day just nothing.
I'm just the same, mate.
Shall I do the poem now?
Go away, Cicero!
Come on. This is ridiculous.
We're grown men, we're soldiers,
we're all veterans of great wars,
and we're sitting
around like a bunch of
cowardly girls, one side
not trusting the other.
It's pathetic!
You're the ones that are
trying to poison us.
No, it's not.
- It's you plotting to poison us.
- What's the court poisoner doing here?
Scipio is here to taste the food
that we know you have poisoned.
- We haven't poisoned any food.
- Nor have we.
- Prove it.
- All right, I will.
Grasientus, eat this.
Ah...
Um...
I'm allergic to olives.
They bring me out in lumps.
Eat it, or I'll bring
you out in lumps.
Agghh!
Help! I'm poisoned! I'm dying!
What?
I poisoned the olives.
It was meant for Badvoc.
Help me! Save me...
I'll be dead in five seconds.
Help!
I'm going, I'm going...
I'm gone.
I've come back.
I'm here! I'm OK.
That poison didn't work.
I've been done. 500 sesterces...
That Wolfbane has tricked me.
Badvoc?
I must apologise on behalf of the
Senate and the Roman people.
Grasientus, go to your room, and write
a farewell note to your testicles.
I think in honour of
our British guests...
we must toast our new-found friendship
with a mug of Wass' finest ale.
I don't think that's a very good idea.
Not the ale.
- Why not?
- Well, it's poi... Oh!
- What did he say?
- It's poi.
Poi?
Yes, it's uh... it's a technical
expression from the brewing trade
meaning of not the
highest quality.
Poi, as in, "Barman,
this beer is poi."
Yeah, um...
Oh...
I'll tell you what, Aulus.
Why don't we drink our
toast in the drink of
the modern world? Wine.
- Uh, not the wine.
- Why not?
It's... It's a very bad year.
It's a little too young, too
lively, too mature, too...
Poisoned?
- It's a mere precaution.
- So much for trust!
- What about the ale?
- Retaliation for the wine!
Hah!
Shall I do the poem now?
Have a drink. Ripped By mstoll
This isn't a country
- it's an armpit!
Functio, you did announce me on my
first official walkabout this morning?
Oh, yes.
You did request thousands
of people turn out
to wave flags, and shout
"Hurrah for the Governor"?
- Oh, I did, yes.
- Are they normally this enthusiastic?
Well, they're a very reserved race, the
Britons. They're probably just shy.
They're probably at home
eating their young.
What about that man this morning?
He was quite pleasant.
Oh, yes - the blind man who
thought I was a prostitute.
He was very friendly.
Well, he gave me a kiss, and
stuck his hand up my toga.
Hardly constitutes an
official greeting, does it?
Grasientus, go and get someone to give
me a spontaneous welcome at once.
And don't use force.
- What if we can't find anyone?
- Then use force, for God's sake.
What's the army coming to?
Well, if they won't come to me, I
suppose I'll have to go to them.
Yeah?
I am Aulus Paulinus.
Congratulations.
The new Roman Governor.
Prove it.
Um...
I give you my word.
Oh.
Oh, I see. So, some geezer dressed
like a prize tart comes to my house,
tells me he's Governor of
Britain, expects me to say,
"Good morrow, Governor. Come in.
Have a mug of
ale, Governor. What will
your soldiers have?
I'll just turn my back for a second
while you jump me, tie me up,
rape the wife, and run
off with my treasured
possessions and
valuable antiques."
I wasn't born yesterday, mate.
Uh...
It doesn't matter. I'II...
I'll look elsewhere.
No, no. Hang on, hang on, hang on.
Look, I'm
not saying you're not
Governor of Britain.
You just can't be too careful
these days, you know.
Yeah, all right, all right.
Look, I'll believe
you. Come on. Come in,
have a mug of ale.
Thank you. Uh... No,
it's all right.
- Perhaps some other time.
- Oh, yeah, I see.
We're not good enough for you, eh?
I dunno!
You bloody Romans, you come over 'ere
with your togas, your open-toed sandals,
your arty-farty mosaics!
Why don't you take your olive
oil, and bugger off back to Rome?
We found somebody.
Is that it? The
official welcome.
Well, I'm only a poor beggar.
Well, poor beggar, this is
your new Roman Governor.
I'm sure you'll be very
pleased to see him.
Oh...
Hail, great Governor.
Oh, great Governor, hail,
hail, Roman Governor!
All right, don't overdo it.
How much do you want?
Oh, thank you very much, Governor.
500 sesterces.
500?! It's a bit much, isn't it?
Not really. I mean,
what do I give you?
I give you three hail great Governors, two
grovels, and a touch of the forelock.
And this forelock costs money, you know.
It's one of my main overheads.
This is a disgrace.
Why don't you get
yourself a proper job?
Nah, can't now. Made
this my life, you see.
I mean, beggars
can't be choosers.
'Ere, Gargamadua, come
and look at this.
Blag doing his beggar routine for
the new governor. It never works.
If he gives Blag some
money, I'll show you my -
He's given Blag some money.
Bloody hell, this new bloke's more
of a pushover than I thought.
Shouldn't take long to show
him who's boss around here.
- Badvoc, sit down and eat your breakfast.
- Oh, sorry, darling.
Right...
- Where is it?
- On the floor.
- Bread and milk for my breakfast?
- That's what they have in Rome.
We're not in Rome.
Where's my egg and pig?
There's no egg, and no pig. They've
all been requisitioned by the Romans.
The Governor apparently wants
to eat like the Britons.
They've got a nerve. I
don't go round to their
houses stealing their olive
oil and togas, do I?
Yes.
Yeah, but that's not stealing, is it?
That is a political protest.
I am an oppressed minority.
You are a dinosaur.
Oh, thank you, darling.
You should be more
cooperative with the Romans.
You should be out there
now with the Governor,
setting an example for the
people of Chelmsford.
What? The people of Chelmsford wouldn't...
they wouldn't turn out in this weather
for a naked woman on horseback
giving away free ale,
let alone some Mediterranean poof
with leaves growing out of his head.
This new Governor has completely
misjudged the British temperament.
We're not like those Italians -
cold, efficient, always working.
We Britons are more...
laidback, easy-going.
Drink in one hand,
girl in the other.
We've got a sort of "tomorrow,
tomorrow" attitude to life.
So go on - be a darling, and make
us some decent breakfast, eh?
Of course, love. Tomorrow.
That's what I call a snub.
I felt about as welcome as a bowl of
truffles at a Macedonian wedding.
I agree. I'll go and pack up
my unguents, and we'll go.
No.
No...
The next time I set foot in Rome
it'll be at the head of an army.
An army I should have
trained here in this
godforsaken province where
I've been left to rot.
I'll teach them. I'll march through
Gaul, then across the Alps.
I shall sweep down through northern Italy,
drawing more men to my cause as I go.
Then I shall cross the Rubicon, and
thence along the Flaminian Way in triumph
with the people
shouting my name.
And finally I shall go into Rome
where I shall be proclaimed Emperor,
and God!
And if your plans go wrong?
I'll probably go into teaching.
What's that?
- Breakfast.
- What?!
Egg and pig.
It's what we have here. The
full British breakfast.
Eugghh! Egg and pig?! Eugghh!
What was that?
Yes, that was it.
- It means you're getting a cold.
- A cold what?
Just a cold. We have
lots of them here.
That and the weather gives
us something to talk about.
Blow.
Thank you.
Functio, I've had an idea.
Oh, God, he's had an idea.
I'm not going to be deterred
by this morning's wash-out.
I'm going to get the people
of Chelmsford on my side.
But how?
Free drink. Never fails.
Yes, of course.
We'll hold a huge banquet.
Invite Badvoc, the local
officials, a few tribal leaders.
Poison them, and then go back to Rome.
What a good idea.
No. Make them feel welcome.
Lavish our hospitality
upon them.
I think Grasientus has a point.
Ridiculous. He's the most
pointless person I've ever met.
I'm not saying we
would poison them,
but it would be a great opportunity
for someone to poison you.
Nonsense!
Why would any Briton
want to poison me?
Well, you're acting
head of a nation that
invaded them, enslaved
them, slaughtered them,
raped their women, stole
their land and homes.
They shouldn't take these
things so personally.
Look, I really must
get rid of this uh...
- Cold.
- Cold, yes.
Wolfbane the herbalist,
he's the one you want.
He has everything - cure-alls,
panaceas, aphrodisiacs,
poisons, you name it.
Will you excuse me? I must go
and make myself... useful.
Well, there's a first time
for everything, I suppose.
Now, Functio, you pop
down to this herbalist
chap and get me a
cold cure, will you?
Oh, and by the way, get a couple
of aphrodisiacs as well, will you?
I might get lucky
at the banquet.
I'm not saying you are
trying to rip me off,
Wolfbane, but this mistletoe
juice is useless.
This is one of the finest
aphrodisiacs known to man.
Let's get this straight
- this was supposed
to turn my wife into a
raving nymphomaniac.
Yes.
Well, she started speaking in a
deep voice, and growing a beard.
I thought you liked
strong women.
I think she's turning
into a bloke.
Did you follow the instructions?
I put it in her food every day.
No, I said rub it on
the offending part!
Until I gave her your potion she
didn't have an offending part!
Well, nobody's ever complained before. It's
very good stuff. Be with you in a moment.
Look, why don't you
just go and clear off?
I'll come back and
set my wife on you!
Yeah, yeah. Make sure
she has a shave first.
Now then, sir,
what's your problem?
Ah, I see, sir. It's
the nose, is it?
Very nasty. Do you
want it shortened, or
removed, or do you want
a bag for your head?
I want some poison.
Come on, sir, that's
a bit drastic.
It's not that bad. So
you're hideously ugly.
You probably don't have many
friends, don't pull many women.
You probably frighten
little children, but -
The poison is for Badvoc.
I mean...
he needs it to poison some rats.
Say no more, sir. I
get the picture.
Well, I've got three types of poisons - one
fast-acting, one medium, and one slow.
What's the difference?
Well, with this it's
just a quick mouthful...
Now, this one is
a little slower.
He finishes his meal, gets up from the
table saying, "Mm, that was del - Agghh!"
Now, the slow one...
He gets up from the table, makes
it up the stairs, goes to bed.
- Five years later - - I'll
take the fast-acting one.
- It's a popular range, sir. 500 sesterces.
- Here.
- He was in a hurry.
- One of Badvoc's men buying poison.
Probably going to a party.
Oh, my God!
Yes, I wonder who the unfortunate
person is gonna be this time.
- I've got a nasty hunch.
- I've got just the thing for that.
Nasty hunch cream. Put
it on three times a day.
Might grow a few hairs.
Don't worry.
Boom! Da-da!
- Was that it?
- Well?
Are you sure that flea juggling is
a very popular pastime in Britain?
They go mad about it. Stay.
And that's all I get
for 1,000 sesterces?
It's a top-class act.
No, I don't think so.
It's a bit pricey.
I'll stick to girls taking their clothes
off. Thank you for coming along.
You've squashed my act!
I demand compensation.
Guards...
Next, please.
- Flea murderer!
- Yes, thank you. We'll be in touch.
Functio?
Just... sniffing apples.
Lovely.
Aulus?
Are you still determined to
go ahead with this banquet?
Yes.
Well, in that case, I strongly recommend
that you engage the services of a...
food taster.
- Very well.
- I'll see to it.
You do that.
I am Cicero.
Good.
I am the entertainment for
this evening's banquet.
You're not the exotic
dancer, are you?
No.
- Oh, good.
- I am an epic poet.
I recite 10,000 lines of
Virgil without stopping.
- Really?
- I find it breaks the ice.
Ah.
Now, about the fee...
Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. No,
I wouldn't dream of taking a penny.
- Grasientus?
- Yes?
What are you doing?
Um... Arranging the olives.
Why?
I find it strangely relaxing...
olive arranging.
I see.
What is going on here today?
I've hired a food taster.
It's the Great Scipio.
Scipio? Your reputation
comes before you.
So does his stomach.
You need have no worries
about me, Aulus.
I can detect any sort of
poison in any sort of food.
This tongue can seek out the
slightest hint of venom.
Belladonna, strychnine, arsenic.
Any poison you care to mention.
Now, Scipio, your last master, if
my memory serves me correctly,
was Severus Magilenus, yes?
Oh, yes. For ten years I faithfully
tasted all his food. God rest his soul.
- Is he dead?
- Alas, these three months past, yes.
- Not of food poisoning.
- Ah.
Oh, no, no. Starvation.
Belladonna, strychnine
and arsenic.
- Are you sure that's what he said?
- I heard it with my own ears.
So he's got a court
poisoner there, has he?
Eh?
A court poisoner. You do know what a
court poisoner is, don't you, Blag?
Yeah, yeah. It's someone who makes
a living from poisoning people.
Then one day he gets...
caught...
Hence the term a
caught poisoner.
No, bogey brain. It's someone
who's going to poison Badvoc.
And his guests.
So, what do we do?
I think we should burst into
the villa on horseback,
tie the whole lot of
'em up by the ankles,
and drag 'em through the
streets of Chelmsford.
Then slit 'em down the front, tie
'em up by their own intestines
in stocks in the middle
of the marketplace,
throw bags of stinking
fish heads at 'em,
chop their toes off, and stuff
'em down their throats!
No, that's what they'll
be expecting us to do.
Any other brilliant suggestions?
Radulf?
Well...
Our intelligence tells us -
Our intelligence? Since when have
you lot had any intelligence?
No, no. All I meant was it looks
like you're gonna get poisoned.
Yes.
I was just gonna suggest...
you take along a food taster.
Eh?
You know, someone who'd
taste your food,
you know, risking their
own life to save yours.
Brilliant suggestion, Radulf.
All those in
favour of Radulf being
food taster say aye.
- Aye!
- Well done. You've got the job.
Right.
Now...
Imagine we're at a banquet.
Blag, Blag, what are you doing?
Well, I'm... I'm imagining
I'm at the banquet.
Blag...
Now, this is what happens.
I'm served with a
plate of meat, right?
Now, you taste a chunk. If it's not
poisoned, then it's OK for me to eat.
Right.
No, this bit's fine.
Good.
Now, ale.
Shut your eyes, Radulf.
I'm gonna poison one of
these three mugs of ale.
And I want you to tell
me which one it is.
- Right.
- Right, you've got a minute.
Right, which one was it?
Agghh!
I think he's dead.
Did he say which
one was poisoned?
No.
Brilliant. Radulf, you're fired.
Where the hell are they?
Don't worry. They're probably at home
making themselves look respectable.
They won't be here for
days in that case.
I'll go and check.
Scipio?
If they are coming along to poison
my food, I think it's only fair
we leave them some food
to poison, don't you?
Sorry, Aulus. I was
just limbering up.
Seeing there is a slight lull,
perhaps I could liven things up with my
50-verse epic poem about the great Aeneas?
Not just yet, Cicero.
We'll save the
recital till later.
When we're trying to
clear the building.
Our guests have arrived.
Good. Now, everybody,
look calm and relaxed.
Pray silence for Lord Badvoc,
son of Elmo the Horse Rustler,
noble Chieftain of
the Trinovantes,
powerful Overlord of the lands
north and east of Chelmsford,
and three-times runner-up in the
All-Britain Pillage-a-Village competition.
- Hail.
- And one or two of the lads.
- Evening, all.
- All right?
Badvoc, on behalf of
the Emperor Hadrian, I
extend the hand of
friendship and brotherhood
in the sincere hope that
our two great peoples
will be joined together as one
great, harmonious nation forever.
Cheers. Brought some booze.
Thank you.
Well, I think it is
time for a drink.
Badvoc, name your poison.
- Shall I do the poem now?
- Not just yet, Cicero.
Uh, no drink for us
tonight, thank you, Aulus.
Very well. In that case,
let us begin, gentlemen.
Much feasting lies ahead.
Please, sit.
Eat.
I'm sure you'll be
knocked out by the food.
To uh... to coin a phrase.
Uh...
Not for us tonight, Aulus. Me and
the men are on a bit of a diet.
Trying to keep them in shape.
Oh...
- I heard a very funny joke yesterday.
- Yes?
Very funny.
Now, the day before I didn't
hear any jokes at all.
I see.
Jokes are funny like
that, aren't they?
I mean, one day you'll hear one, and
the next day you won't hear one.
Absolutely.
Tomorrow I may hear a cracker.
On the other hand, I may go a month without
hearing so much as a shaggy dog story.
Ah...
What... What about yourself?
I'm very much the same, oh, yes.
I can hear a real joke on one day,
and the following day just nothing.
I'm just the same, mate.
Shall I do the poem now?
Go away, Cicero!
Come on. This is ridiculous.
We're grown men, we're soldiers,
we're all veterans of great wars,
and we're sitting
around like a bunch of
cowardly girls, one side
not trusting the other.
It's pathetic!
You're the ones that are
trying to poison us.
No, it's not.
- It's you plotting to poison us.
- What's the court poisoner doing here?
Scipio is here to taste the food
that we know you have poisoned.
- We haven't poisoned any food.
- Nor have we.
- Prove it.
- All right, I will.
Grasientus, eat this.
Ah...
Um...
I'm allergic to olives.
They bring me out in lumps.
Eat it, or I'll bring
you out in lumps.
Agghh!
Help! I'm poisoned! I'm dying!
What?
I poisoned the olives.
It was meant for Badvoc.
Help me! Save me...
I'll be dead in five seconds.
Help!
I'm going, I'm going...
I'm gone.
I've come back.
I'm here! I'm OK.
That poison didn't work.
I've been done. 500 sesterces...
That Wolfbane has tricked me.
Badvoc?
I must apologise on behalf of the
Senate and the Roman people.
Grasientus, go to your room, and write
a farewell note to your testicles.
I think in honour of
our British guests...
we must toast our new-found friendship
with a mug of Wass' finest ale.
I don't think that's a very good idea.
Not the ale.
- Why not?
- Well, it's poi... Oh!
- What did he say?
- It's poi.
Poi?
Yes, it's uh... it's a technical
expression from the brewing trade
meaning of not the
highest quality.
Poi, as in, "Barman,
this beer is poi."
Yeah, um...
Oh...
I'll tell you what, Aulus.
Why don't we drink our
toast in the drink of
the modern world? Wine.
- Uh, not the wine.
- Why not?
It's... It's a very bad year.
It's a little too young, too
lively, too mature, too...
Poisoned?
- It's a mere precaution.
- So much for trust!
- What about the ale?
- Retaliation for the wine!
Hah!
Shall I do the poem now?
Have a drink. Ripped By mstoll