"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'll..." "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." "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."