Chelmsford 123 (1988–…): Season 2, Episode 7 - Something Beginning with E - full transcript
Aulus' day has started badly, is getting worse and can only go downhill when Grasientus comes up with a brilliant solution to all his problems... Adult humour
Ripped By mstoll
Your turn, Mungo.
All right, er, I'll do an impression
of someone we all know very well
and you have to guess who it is.
- All right?
- Dear oh dear.
Stumpy One-eye the Woodcutter.
Correct.
That was clever, Badvoc.
He hadn't even done
the voice yet.
Right, I'll do one now.
Let me get this right, get
the voice right. Ready?
Good day. I am Aulus
Paulinus, governor of...
Hang on.
Oh, it's on the
tip of my tongue.
I know. It's Aulus Paulinus.
You're good at this
game, aren't you?
For crying out loud, do
we have to play these
stupid games? I'm
bored out of my head.
Why don't we just take off all our
clothes and run around the heath naked
screaming obscenities at
the top of our voices?
We do that every day, Blag.
That's the sort of thing
that's boring me senseless.
Listen, I was thinking of going round town
throwing lumps of rock at old people.
You're welcome to join me.
Mungo, you need help.
Yeah, Blag's going to
carry the rocks for me.
- Oh, I've thought of a game.
- Look, I'm a British tribe leader.
- You'll like this one.
- I shouldn't have to play games.
It's my favourite.
Listen, Blag, my life should
be a huge and endless orgy
of the most luxurious
food and the finest wines
and I should be in the middle of it,
anointing my naked body with perfumed oils
as I prepare to do
erotic battle with...
- Yeah?
- With a pair of horny, firm-limbed,
lust-crazed,
sex-hungry nymphets.
I spy with my little eye...
Shut up, Blag.
I bet Aulus Paulinus isn't
bored out of his head.
I bet him and Grasientus aren't up
at the villa playing stupid games.
99, 100!
Coming, ready or not!
Don't bother coming, Grasientus.
I'm fed up with this game already.
I'm bored out of my head.
My life should be a
huge and endless orgy
of luxurious food and
the finest wines
and I should be in the middle of it,
anointing my body with perfumed oils
as I prepare to do
erotic battle with...
Yes?
A pair of horny, firm-limbed,
lust-crazed,
sex-hungry nymphets.
- I know.
- Yes?
Musical chairs?
I bet you the bloody emperor isn't bored
out of his head playing stupid games.
- Whoo! Come on, darling.
- That's more like it.
Get them off. Get them off.
- Come on, show us your arse.
- Badvoc, this is a very nice gesture
- but it's really doing nothing for me.
- All right, that's enough. Break it up.
Hang on, I've only got
one more veil to go.
Well, I've had better
Saturday nights out.
Well, look on the bright side.
At least here in Britain, we're
a long way from the emperor.
Cheers, Aulus. After you
with the rib of beef, Blag.
Can we play hide and
seek now, Badvoc?
Well, do I get a bite, then?
Oh, sorry. Blag,
give Aulus a bite.
Ow!
I've got bad news, I'm afraid.
What? Blag's got rabies?
Worse. I've just heard the
emperor's on his way to Britain.
He's what?
Are we going to play
hide and seek or what?
- In a minute, Blag.
- Shut up.
Gods, what have I
done to offend you?
I'm not a bad man. I've
never done anything wrong.
I've never killed my father
or slept with my mother.
Eh, don't knock it
till you've tried it.
Calm down, Aulus, so the boss is coming
over. Big deal. I can't see your problem.
I've been sending him
monthly reports saying
that Britain is a clean,
well-run province
with a hard-working,
loyal population.
I see your problem.
Wait, perhaps the gods have
sent this as a test for me.
That's it, yes.
Perhaps this is an opportunity
for me to prove myself.
Yes, perhaps this is the
hour for a new Aulus.
Yes, a get-up-and-go Aulus.
From now on, just call me Aulus
"let's kick arse" Paulinus.
And for a start, Badvoc, I'm going to
put an end to all your fun and games.
Ready!
Right, now, this is a more detailed
map of the area south of Chelmsford.
It strikes me, which ever way the
emperor and his entourage come,
they've got to march along
here at some point.
Won't that ruin the map?
Eh?
Well, all them footprints
all over the map.
Blag, we're trying to...
Shut the door, we're coming out.
Roman soldiers.
They're coming in here.
Blag, eat the map.
Well, well, well.
Badvoc, Mungo and Blag.
This is cosy.
Pleased to meet you, Cosy.
Listen, I think we've had
enough of your lips, Badvoc.
If I hear any more from your cheeks,
I'll have your goitres for gateposts.
Er, Loquens, I see you've been keeping
up with the spoken British lessons.
Yes. You Britons have got a
very hard tongue, Badvoc.
But I'm going to stick
it out as long as I can.
Good for you.
- Drink before you go?
- Bite to eat?
Bit of map?
Wait a minute. That man's
eating a bit of parchment.
Yeah. He likes that
now and again.
The odd bit of paper,
cloth, parchment.
He's part moth. On
his mother's side.
He takes after his father.
Thank God.
Otherwise he'd be
crashing into the walls,
flying into the light,
nibbling the curtains.
- It'd be a nightmare.
- Listen, Badvoc,
I hope you're not planning
anything that's against the lav.
We're here to uphold the lav.
Anyone who breaks the
lav will be for it.
No, don't worry. Anything we do
will be strictly inside the lav.
Good.
Because if there's the
slightest bit of trouble,
when Caesar comes into his horse
on Chelmsford back tomorrow,
you may end up with
your neck in a goose.
Do I make myself clear?
- Yeah, my noose will be cooked.
- Precisely.
You've banged the nail
right through your head.
So just keep your nose peeled.
Understand?
I think we speak
the same language.
- Good.
- Bye, then.
- Ta-da.
- Bye.
Hello. Hi.
Bye.
Yes, I suppose we
should, really.
We should really speak
the native language.
- Bloody imposition though it is.
- Quite.
Right, let's get on with it.
Take your clothes off.
It's not Tuesday, is it?
Don't be daft. We're
swapping clothes.
I put on yours, you put on mine.
Might one ask why?
Well, you are going into Chelmsford
ahead of me disguised as me,
in case there are any
assassination attempts
or kidnapping attempts
or something like that.
Oh, I see. If the attempts are
successful, I get killed instead of you.
- Well, that's charming.
- Yes.
It's for risks like these that I pay you
the enormous salary that I do, Clupeus.
But what'll happen
if I do get killed?
Well, for a start, I shall
be a lot better off.
Right, enough of that.
Let's get our clothes off.
All right.
Actually, as we are taking our
clothes off, we might as well...
Right, gentlemen, as you can
see, this is a map of Britain.
We are here, the
southeast, in Chelmsford.
Londinium.
And across here, of
course, Hadrian's Wall,
our main fortification
against the Caledonians
nipping across the
Chanel into Kent
up in the north there.
Yes, I knew that. Yes, yes.
Well spotted.
Gentlemen, only Grasientus has
spotted my deliberate mistake.
The map, of course, is
the wrong way round.
How am I expected to
govern this province if
my generals don't know
which way up it is?
Concentrate!
There.
Now, what about entertainments
for the emperor's visit?
The emperor loves watching Christians
being thrown to the lions.
Not very practical here.
No lions.
Throw the Christians to something
else, then. What do we have here?
- Sheep.
- Fine.
Throw Christians to the sheep.
Nice variation. The
emperor will love it.
Not really the same, you know.
Christians and sheep.
They're not exactly
savage, you know.
They're rather simple
woolly-minded aimless creatures.
I know, but the
sheep are good fun.
- Aulus, a quick word.
- Out.
- There's a quick word.
- Eh?
Badvoc, this is a new regime.
No-one, least of all a
filthy Briton, ambles
into my office without
written permission.
Unless he's holding the emperor
hostage in a secret hideaway.
Exactly. Now, get out.
The cheek of it! Bursting into my office
to tell me "I've kidnapped the emperor."
I've more important things to worry about
than Badvoc kidnapping the emperor.
Like making sure the
emperor gets here on time.
Badvoc!
Yes?
What do you want? Money?
Not money, Aulus.
Liberty.
- Liberty?
- Yes, and money.
Mungo, read out the demands.
In exchange for the life
of the Emperor Hadrian,
the tribe of Badvoc demands
from the governor of Britain,
one Aulus Paulinus,
the following:
Permanent exemption from any Roman
harassment and interference;
400 bags of gold;
permission to use the
governor's gold-plated bath...
At least twice a year.
Once with water.
Restoration of all hunting
and fishing rights;
permission to wear ceremonial
heron bladder on Tuesday;
another 100 bags of gold;
a canteen of cutlery; and a
weekend for two in Gaul.
And you expect me to agree
to that absurd proposal?
Yes. Well?
I'll need some time
to think about it.
- You've got 48 hours.
- I'll need longer than that.
- Well, I can probably stretch to 36.
- 24
- 12.
- Split the difference.
- Six.
- Done.
- Back in six hours.
- Er, Badvoc...
- Where can I get you?
- At the tavern.
- And after that?
- My shack.
Where did you say you're
keeping the emperor hostage?
Ahh!
- Nice try, Aulus.
- Naughty, naughty.
- He's in Ralph's barn.
- Thank you.
O mighty Jupiter,
god of gods,
king of gods,
O great Jupiter,
who is so great yet
insulted by the word "god",
O mighty Jupiter,
who's my favourite god...
He is.
O great Jupiter,
guess who used to stick
up for you at school.
Whenever there was an argument in the
playground about who was the best god.
It was always me.
Please hear my
prayer, I beg you.
Let the emperor be
in Ralph's barn.
Please let the emperor
be in Ralph's barn.
Pretty please.
Let the emperor be
in Ralph's barn.
Thank you. Amen.
- We've searched Ralph's barn.
- And?
- He's not there.
- Excuse me.
O Jupiter,
you bastard!
You uncooperative
self-centred bastard!
May you be hearing from my
solicitors in the morning.
You charlatan of a god!
Amen.
Aulus, I've had an idea.
Ah, Grasientus,
you've got that repellent, oily, sneaky,
snaky, leery sneer on your face.
Yes.
That's the one.
What little plan
have you dreamt up?
Let Badvoc keep the emperor.
What?
Let him kill him or starve him
or torture him or whatever.
You go back to Rome proclaiming that the
Emperor Hadrian with his dying breath
named you as his successor.
How dare you.
Grasientus, I am a loyal servant
of both Rome and the emperor.
How dare you suggest that I
would let Badvoc keep him!
Well?
You can keep him.
Sorry?
I will not be blackmailed by
an enemy chieftain, Badvoc.
Oh, I see. You want some
more time to think about it.
Nope.
- Three hours.
- No.
All right, six hours
is my last offer.
Get back to your
prisoner, Badvoc.
Listen, Aulus. I'll be
back here in 12 hours
and you'd better have
made up your mind.
I will not tolerate any more delays.
All right?
Bye, Badvoc.
And when I say 12 hours, I
really mean 18 hours. All right?
Give my love to the
emperor, Badvoc.
Aulus must be bluffing.
He must be bluffing.
He can't seriously want me to torture
you to a long, slow painful death.
No, I wouldn't have thought so.
You stay out of this, Emperor.
I've told you a thousand
times, I'm not the emperor.
Prove it.
What has Aulus told you
about the emperor?
That you're short, fat, pug-ugly
with a face covered in warts.
Yeah, just like you, stumpy.
Short, fat, ugly git.
Why don't you just stand on a barrel,
you short-arsed, dwarf-like...
diminutive, minuscule...
non-Iofty toe-rag.
So he told you that I was short,
fat and ugly just like me?
Yeah, except that you're
not that short, of course.
Not very fat either, is he?
No, and he's only sort
of mediumly ugly.
- His warts have cleared up.
- Yeah, nice.
You see what I'm getting at?
- Er, yeah.
- Yeah.
Oh, I see what you mean.
You're really the
emperor in disguise.
Right, Grasientus,
how does this sound?
People of Rome, I salute thee.
I Caesar Aulus Paulinus.
Imperial Majesty of the world.
Your last emperor,
Hadrian the Great,
was kidnapped and assassinated
by British terrorists.
I tried to rescue him but,
alas, I was too late.
- Aulus, if I...
- Not now, Grasientus. I'm in full flow.
As I cradled the dying
emperor in my arms,
he looked up and he said,
"Aulus,
Aulus,
you've been like a son to me.
Please, please succeed
me as emperor.
Well, I was as
surprised as you are.
- Aulus...
- Not now, Grasientus.
"Who, me, emperor?" I said.
"No, I couldn't possibly."
"Oh, go on," he said.
"Please, please, take
it, take it, take it.
Let me die in peace."
"All right," I said, "if it makes you
feel happy." "Oh, it does, it does.
Oh, thanks a bunch," he said.
"You know, the people of Rome are really
fortunate having you as their new Caesar."
- Bravo.
- Thank you very much.
As...
Yes, Aulus, continue.
I said, continue.
Peo...
P... People of Rome.
Ha!
Hi-ya!
Well, I can see a few of you now
are beginning to giggle and laugh
and that you've recognised that story
was just a little one of my jokes.
Um, but in fact the emperor
was really kidnapped,
but managed to escaped, as only
someone as great as he could.
So, enough of my
prattle, anyway,
and let me present to you now the
man you've all been waiting for.
The one and only
Emperor Hadrian!
OK. Oh, yeah.
Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!
Whoo! Whoo!
Hail Caesar!
Fine speech, Aulus.
Oh, you're too kind,
Your Highness.
And if I'm not mistaken,
total bollocks.
Oh, you flatter me.
Pardon?
- So, you were going to rescue me?
- Indeed.
- Where?
- Where they were holding you hostage.
And where was that?
I'm not at liberty to divulge
that because of security reasons.
But I haven't been kidnapped!
Aulus, this Emperor Hadrian
geezer that I'm holding hostage.
- I'm sorry, do I know you?
- Don't play games, Aulus.
Listen. You said as far
as you were concerned, I
could kill the emperor,
starve him, torture him.
I don't know who you are.
You've been drinking.
You're talking nonsense.
Listen, Aulus. You said I could keep
the emperor and kill him, right?
I'm sorry, I don't know
who you are, Badvoc.
- Who?
- Lucky guess.
I've been getting a bit suspicious, you
see, cos the geezer we've kidnapped,
well, he's sort of tall and
thin and a bit airy-fairy.
And for the last year you've been saying
that the emperor is short, fat and ugly.
Oh, I don't think I have.
Listen, your exact words were "a short,
fat, pug-ugly perverted megalomaniac
with a face like a sheep's
gut turned inside
out and deliberately
coated with warts."
A bit like this bloke, in fact.
Evening.
Good evening.
H...
He...
I can explain everything.
I think I explained
that rather well.
- Huh!
- What do you mean, huh?
If you hadn't suggested going back to
Rome, this would never have happened.
It would never have occurred
to me to go back to Rome
if Badvoc had not kidnapped the
emperor in the first place.
Don't blame me. If Romans hadn't
invaded Britain in the first place,
it wouldn't have occurred to
me to kidnap the emperor.
Hang on, if the Britons
had put up a better fight
in the first place, we
wouldn't have invaded.
You can't blame us for that.
If the French had put up
a better fight in Gaul,
you'd never have got the
chance to invade us.
That's true.
Bloody French.
Still, look on the bright side.
It's always nice to go on a
journey, see a bit of the Empire.
Stop your talking
and row, you lot.
Come on and row.
Ripped By mstoll
Your turn, Mungo.
All right, er, I'll do an impression
of someone we all know very well
and you have to guess who it is.
- All right?
- Dear oh dear.
Stumpy One-eye the Woodcutter.
Correct.
That was clever, Badvoc.
He hadn't even done
the voice yet.
Right, I'll do one now.
Let me get this right, get
the voice right. Ready?
Good day. I am Aulus
Paulinus, governor of...
Hang on.
Oh, it's on the
tip of my tongue.
I know. It's Aulus Paulinus.
You're good at this
game, aren't you?
For crying out loud, do
we have to play these
stupid games? I'm
bored out of my head.
Why don't we just take off all our
clothes and run around the heath naked
screaming obscenities at
the top of our voices?
We do that every day, Blag.
That's the sort of thing
that's boring me senseless.
Listen, I was thinking of going round town
throwing lumps of rock at old people.
You're welcome to join me.
Mungo, you need help.
Yeah, Blag's going to
carry the rocks for me.
- Oh, I've thought of a game.
- Look, I'm a British tribe leader.
- You'll like this one.
- I shouldn't have to play games.
It's my favourite.
Listen, Blag, my life should
be a huge and endless orgy
of the most luxurious
food and the finest wines
and I should be in the middle of it,
anointing my naked body with perfumed oils
as I prepare to do
erotic battle with...
- Yeah?
- With a pair of horny, firm-limbed,
lust-crazed,
sex-hungry nymphets.
I spy with my little eye...
Shut up, Blag.
I bet Aulus Paulinus isn't
bored out of his head.
I bet him and Grasientus aren't up
at the villa playing stupid games.
99, 100!
Coming, ready or not!
Don't bother coming, Grasientus.
I'm fed up with this game already.
I'm bored out of my head.
My life should be a
huge and endless orgy
of luxurious food and
the finest wines
and I should be in the middle of it,
anointing my body with perfumed oils
as I prepare to do
erotic battle with...
Yes?
A pair of horny, firm-limbed,
lust-crazed,
sex-hungry nymphets.
- I know.
- Yes?
Musical chairs?
I bet you the bloody emperor isn't bored
out of his head playing stupid games.
- Whoo! Come on, darling.
- That's more like it.
Get them off. Get them off.
- Come on, show us your arse.
- Badvoc, this is a very nice gesture
- but it's really doing nothing for me.
- All right, that's enough. Break it up.
Hang on, I've only got
one more veil to go.
Well, I've had better
Saturday nights out.
Well, look on the bright side.
At least here in Britain, we're
a long way from the emperor.
Cheers, Aulus. After you
with the rib of beef, Blag.
Can we play hide and
seek now, Badvoc?
Well, do I get a bite, then?
Oh, sorry. Blag,
give Aulus a bite.
Ow!
I've got bad news, I'm afraid.
What? Blag's got rabies?
Worse. I've just heard the
emperor's on his way to Britain.
He's what?
Are we going to play
hide and seek or what?
- In a minute, Blag.
- Shut up.
Gods, what have I
done to offend you?
I'm not a bad man. I've
never done anything wrong.
I've never killed my father
or slept with my mother.
Eh, don't knock it
till you've tried it.
Calm down, Aulus, so the boss is coming
over. Big deal. I can't see your problem.
I've been sending him
monthly reports saying
that Britain is a clean,
well-run province
with a hard-working,
loyal population.
I see your problem.
Wait, perhaps the gods have
sent this as a test for me.
That's it, yes.
Perhaps this is an opportunity
for me to prove myself.
Yes, perhaps this is the
hour for a new Aulus.
Yes, a get-up-and-go Aulus.
From now on, just call me Aulus
"let's kick arse" Paulinus.
And for a start, Badvoc, I'm going to
put an end to all your fun and games.
Ready!
Right, now, this is a more detailed
map of the area south of Chelmsford.
It strikes me, which ever way the
emperor and his entourage come,
they've got to march along
here at some point.
Won't that ruin the map?
Eh?
Well, all them footprints
all over the map.
Blag, we're trying to...
Shut the door, we're coming out.
Roman soldiers.
They're coming in here.
Blag, eat the map.
Well, well, well.
Badvoc, Mungo and Blag.
This is cosy.
Pleased to meet you, Cosy.
Listen, I think we've had
enough of your lips, Badvoc.
If I hear any more from your cheeks,
I'll have your goitres for gateposts.
Er, Loquens, I see you've been keeping
up with the spoken British lessons.
Yes. You Britons have got a
very hard tongue, Badvoc.
But I'm going to stick
it out as long as I can.
Good for you.
- Drink before you go?
- Bite to eat?
Bit of map?
Wait a minute. That man's
eating a bit of parchment.
Yeah. He likes that
now and again.
The odd bit of paper,
cloth, parchment.
He's part moth. On
his mother's side.
He takes after his father.
Thank God.
Otherwise he'd be
crashing into the walls,
flying into the light,
nibbling the curtains.
- It'd be a nightmare.
- Listen, Badvoc,
I hope you're not planning
anything that's against the lav.
We're here to uphold the lav.
Anyone who breaks the
lav will be for it.
No, don't worry. Anything we do
will be strictly inside the lav.
Good.
Because if there's the
slightest bit of trouble,
when Caesar comes into his horse
on Chelmsford back tomorrow,
you may end up with
your neck in a goose.
Do I make myself clear?
- Yeah, my noose will be cooked.
- Precisely.
You've banged the nail
right through your head.
So just keep your nose peeled.
Understand?
I think we speak
the same language.
- Good.
- Bye, then.
- Ta-da.
- Bye.
Hello. Hi.
Bye.
Yes, I suppose we
should, really.
We should really speak
the native language.
- Bloody imposition though it is.
- Quite.
Right, let's get on with it.
Take your clothes off.
It's not Tuesday, is it?
Don't be daft. We're
swapping clothes.
I put on yours, you put on mine.
Might one ask why?
Well, you are going into Chelmsford
ahead of me disguised as me,
in case there are any
assassination attempts
or kidnapping attempts
or something like that.
Oh, I see. If the attempts are
successful, I get killed instead of you.
- Well, that's charming.
- Yes.
It's for risks like these that I pay you
the enormous salary that I do, Clupeus.
But what'll happen
if I do get killed?
Well, for a start, I shall
be a lot better off.
Right, enough of that.
Let's get our clothes off.
All right.
Actually, as we are taking our
clothes off, we might as well...
Right, gentlemen, as you can
see, this is a map of Britain.
We are here, the
southeast, in Chelmsford.
Londinium.
And across here, of
course, Hadrian's Wall,
our main fortification
against the Caledonians
nipping across the
Chanel into Kent
up in the north there.
Yes, I knew that. Yes, yes.
Well spotted.
Gentlemen, only Grasientus has
spotted my deliberate mistake.
The map, of course, is
the wrong way round.
How am I expected to
govern this province if
my generals don't know
which way up it is?
Concentrate!
There.
Now, what about entertainments
for the emperor's visit?
The emperor loves watching Christians
being thrown to the lions.
Not very practical here.
No lions.
Throw the Christians to something
else, then. What do we have here?
- Sheep.
- Fine.
Throw Christians to the sheep.
Nice variation. The
emperor will love it.
Not really the same, you know.
Christians and sheep.
They're not exactly
savage, you know.
They're rather simple
woolly-minded aimless creatures.
I know, but the
sheep are good fun.
- Aulus, a quick word.
- Out.
- There's a quick word.
- Eh?
Badvoc, this is a new regime.
No-one, least of all a
filthy Briton, ambles
into my office without
written permission.
Unless he's holding the emperor
hostage in a secret hideaway.
Exactly. Now, get out.
The cheek of it! Bursting into my office
to tell me "I've kidnapped the emperor."
I've more important things to worry about
than Badvoc kidnapping the emperor.
Like making sure the
emperor gets here on time.
Badvoc!
Yes?
What do you want? Money?
Not money, Aulus.
Liberty.
- Liberty?
- Yes, and money.
Mungo, read out the demands.
In exchange for the life
of the Emperor Hadrian,
the tribe of Badvoc demands
from the governor of Britain,
one Aulus Paulinus,
the following:
Permanent exemption from any Roman
harassment and interference;
400 bags of gold;
permission to use the
governor's gold-plated bath...
At least twice a year.
Once with water.
Restoration of all hunting
and fishing rights;
permission to wear ceremonial
heron bladder on Tuesday;
another 100 bags of gold;
a canteen of cutlery; and a
weekend for two in Gaul.
And you expect me to agree
to that absurd proposal?
Yes. Well?
I'll need some time
to think about it.
- You've got 48 hours.
- I'll need longer than that.
- Well, I can probably stretch to 36.
- 24
- 12.
- Split the difference.
- Six.
- Done.
- Back in six hours.
- Er, Badvoc...
- Where can I get you?
- At the tavern.
- And after that?
- My shack.
Where did you say you're
keeping the emperor hostage?
Ahh!
- Nice try, Aulus.
- Naughty, naughty.
- He's in Ralph's barn.
- Thank you.
O mighty Jupiter,
god of gods,
king of gods,
O great Jupiter,
who is so great yet
insulted by the word "god",
O mighty Jupiter,
who's my favourite god...
He is.
O great Jupiter,
guess who used to stick
up for you at school.
Whenever there was an argument in the
playground about who was the best god.
It was always me.
Please hear my
prayer, I beg you.
Let the emperor be
in Ralph's barn.
Please let the emperor
be in Ralph's barn.
Pretty please.
Let the emperor be
in Ralph's barn.
Thank you. Amen.
- We've searched Ralph's barn.
- And?
- He's not there.
- Excuse me.
O Jupiter,
you bastard!
You uncooperative
self-centred bastard!
May you be hearing from my
solicitors in the morning.
You charlatan of a god!
Amen.
Aulus, I've had an idea.
Ah, Grasientus,
you've got that repellent, oily, sneaky,
snaky, leery sneer on your face.
Yes.
That's the one.
What little plan
have you dreamt up?
Let Badvoc keep the emperor.
What?
Let him kill him or starve him
or torture him or whatever.
You go back to Rome proclaiming that the
Emperor Hadrian with his dying breath
named you as his successor.
How dare you.
Grasientus, I am a loyal servant
of both Rome and the emperor.
How dare you suggest that I
would let Badvoc keep him!
Well?
You can keep him.
Sorry?
I will not be blackmailed by
an enemy chieftain, Badvoc.
Oh, I see. You want some
more time to think about it.
Nope.
- Three hours.
- No.
All right, six hours
is my last offer.
Get back to your
prisoner, Badvoc.
Listen, Aulus. I'll be
back here in 12 hours
and you'd better have
made up your mind.
I will not tolerate any more delays.
All right?
Bye, Badvoc.
And when I say 12 hours, I
really mean 18 hours. All right?
Give my love to the
emperor, Badvoc.
Aulus must be bluffing.
He must be bluffing.
He can't seriously want me to torture
you to a long, slow painful death.
No, I wouldn't have thought so.
You stay out of this, Emperor.
I've told you a thousand
times, I'm not the emperor.
Prove it.
What has Aulus told you
about the emperor?
That you're short, fat, pug-ugly
with a face covered in warts.
Yeah, just like you, stumpy.
Short, fat, ugly git.
Why don't you just stand on a barrel,
you short-arsed, dwarf-like...
diminutive, minuscule...
non-Iofty toe-rag.
So he told you that I was short,
fat and ugly just like me?
Yeah, except that you're
not that short, of course.
Not very fat either, is he?
No, and he's only sort
of mediumly ugly.
- His warts have cleared up.
- Yeah, nice.
You see what I'm getting at?
- Er, yeah.
- Yeah.
Oh, I see what you mean.
You're really the
emperor in disguise.
Right, Grasientus,
how does this sound?
People of Rome, I salute thee.
I Caesar Aulus Paulinus.
Imperial Majesty of the world.
Your last emperor,
Hadrian the Great,
was kidnapped and assassinated
by British terrorists.
I tried to rescue him but,
alas, I was too late.
- Aulus, if I...
- Not now, Grasientus. I'm in full flow.
As I cradled the dying
emperor in my arms,
he looked up and he said,
"Aulus,
Aulus,
you've been like a son to me.
Please, please succeed
me as emperor.
Well, I was as
surprised as you are.
- Aulus...
- Not now, Grasientus.
"Who, me, emperor?" I said.
"No, I couldn't possibly."
"Oh, go on," he said.
"Please, please, take
it, take it, take it.
Let me die in peace."
"All right," I said, "if it makes you
feel happy." "Oh, it does, it does.
Oh, thanks a bunch," he said.
"You know, the people of Rome are really
fortunate having you as their new Caesar."
- Bravo.
- Thank you very much.
As...
Yes, Aulus, continue.
I said, continue.
Peo...
P... People of Rome.
Ha!
Hi-ya!
Well, I can see a few of you now
are beginning to giggle and laugh
and that you've recognised that story
was just a little one of my jokes.
Um, but in fact the emperor
was really kidnapped,
but managed to escaped, as only
someone as great as he could.
So, enough of my
prattle, anyway,
and let me present to you now the
man you've all been waiting for.
The one and only
Emperor Hadrian!
OK. Oh, yeah.
Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!
Whoo! Whoo!
Hail Caesar!
Fine speech, Aulus.
Oh, you're too kind,
Your Highness.
And if I'm not mistaken,
total bollocks.
Oh, you flatter me.
Pardon?
- So, you were going to rescue me?
- Indeed.
- Where?
- Where they were holding you hostage.
And where was that?
I'm not at liberty to divulge
that because of security reasons.
But I haven't been kidnapped!
Aulus, this Emperor Hadrian
geezer that I'm holding hostage.
- I'm sorry, do I know you?
- Don't play games, Aulus.
Listen. You said as far
as you were concerned, I
could kill the emperor,
starve him, torture him.
I don't know who you are.
You've been drinking.
You're talking nonsense.
Listen, Aulus. You said I could keep
the emperor and kill him, right?
I'm sorry, I don't know
who you are, Badvoc.
- Who?
- Lucky guess.
I've been getting a bit suspicious, you
see, cos the geezer we've kidnapped,
well, he's sort of tall and
thin and a bit airy-fairy.
And for the last year you've been saying
that the emperor is short, fat and ugly.
Oh, I don't think I have.
Listen, your exact words were "a short,
fat, pug-ugly perverted megalomaniac
with a face like a sheep's
gut turned inside
out and deliberately
coated with warts."
A bit like this bloke, in fact.
Evening.
Good evening.
H...
He...
I can explain everything.
I think I explained
that rather well.
- Huh!
- What do you mean, huh?
If you hadn't suggested going back to
Rome, this would never have happened.
It would never have occurred
to me to go back to Rome
if Badvoc had not kidnapped the
emperor in the first place.
Don't blame me. If Romans hadn't
invaded Britain in the first place,
it wouldn't have occurred to
me to kidnap the emperor.
Hang on, if the Britons
had put up a better fight
in the first place, we
wouldn't have invaded.
You can't blame us for that.
If the French had put up
a better fight in Gaul,
you'd never have got the
chance to invade us.
That's true.
Bloody French.
Still, look on the bright side.
It's always nice to go on a
journey, see a bit of the Empire.
Stop your talking
and row, you lot.
Come on and row.
Ripped By mstoll