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S03E07

…Like Marcus, my pet flea, is in ‘thrall’ to me. He does whatever I tell him — Marcus, stop that — Marcus! I’ll have a bath! I will!

In which the show hauls out their ultimate weapon against mid-series lull… no, not Nazis, Farnaby. And a wind machine. It may not sound like much now, but just wait…

In this episode:

Song:The Evil Emperors’ Song — Simon as Caligula, Mat as Elagabalus, Ben as Commodus and Jim as Nero. (Parody of: Michael Jackson, Bad)

Recurring sketches:

Shouty Man — New! Ushabti Coffin Dolls (“These beautiful handcrafted figurines will magically turn into actual servants to look after your every need in the afterlife! And there’s hundreds of different ones to collect!”)

HHTV Sport: Twisting the Cow at the Highland Games — Wherein the Scots compete to, yes, be first to twist all four legs off a dead cow… and if you think that’s sick and disturbing, just wait ’till you hear the post-match puns.

Horrible Points of View — Stuart (“So next time you’re watching Hannah Montana, be thankful you’re not in the Stuart era, or she’d be played by a bloke!”)

Stupid Deaths — Moliere (Took a fatal coughing fit while performing in his own play: The Hypochondriac.”Hah! I might die laughing!… no, wait, I’m dead already, aren’t I?”)

Historical Wife Swap — Vikings (“ARRRR!” “Don’t growl, dear.”) vs. their Thralls (“EEEK!” “Don’t be alarmed, I’m just very ugly.”)

Bob Hale — The American Report (“Home of the brave and land of the free! And you know what else is free? Yes, it’s this fantastic Bob Hale action figure, which is FREE when you buy my incredible new Book of Interesting Facts!”)

One-offs:

Awful Egyptians

The Secret of Tombs — Keeping the Pharaoh’s treasures safe for the next life eventually trumped the showy display of them in this… problem is, of course, the Pharaohs were still operating in this. (“OK, fine. Here’s your bonus.” “…There’s nothing there?” “Oh, but there is — you just can’t see it! Hah!”)

Gorgeous Georgians

A Failure to Communicate — George I’s English is about as good as Robert Walpole’s German, which poses a serious problem when trying to run the country… or does it?

Awesome USA

Paul Revere’s not in any way Effective All-American Toothpaste — The historic connection between sugar and tooth decay: clearly, not as incredibly obvious as you might think. (“Because teeth are over-rated!”)

Rotten Romans

Caligula is Grateful — Handy rule for dealing with mad emperors, No.326: Never, under any circs, assume they won’t take you literally. Especially when offering your life in exchange for theirs…

Field Notes:

  • So, you’re no doubt all breathlessly wondering when we get to the less interesting stuff, as mentioned in my S03E01 review — what? Oh. Well, shoot, then we’re all going to be disappointed. Or possibly not. Because to paraphrase the Mythbusters, I think there’s something a bit off about this boring stretch; I’m standing right in it, to the best of my recollection, and I’m not bored yet.
  • Not that it hasn’t threatened lately — and if I do remember correctly, looms more ominously still just ahead. But it must be conceded that I’ve since become more realistic about the ability and/or responsibility of a children’s show to keep an adult interested… and noticed that despite which, every time adult ennui does loom, things abruptly veer off into adult-level quirky. Or, in the case of this episode, just cuts to Farnaby in (surprisingly attractive!) drag. Well played, show, very well played indeed.
  • Not that this is by any means their only ol’Dandelion Head-related dodge. In what I can only suggest might have been a deliberate attempt to help mitigate the by-now-near-absence of Baynton, they’re also featuring crazy Scots Simon, Georgian Simon, of course Simon as Death… and, in a move that demonstrates just how serious they were about it all, Simon as Caligula: now with bonus song-and-dance action.
  • This last was I suspect a fairly hefty factor in the decision to re-re-recap the evilness of Rome’s rulers, although I can’t totally discount the chance to finally exploit the fact that the “killed the priest instead of the beast” anecdote rhymes. Hey, they managed to find the one Caligula story that’s both mildly catchy and PG-rated, they’ve earned a little celebration. So yes, here it is in all its glory, folks! Revel in a lisping Farnaby boogeying down before purple curtains!
  • No, seriously, he attacks his first big musical role with real aplomb. As of course do they all, even Ben, because it’s impossible not to enjoy yourself doing a takeoff on old-school King of Pop-style posturing. Which means the viewer feels like a right old grump for complaining not only about any staleness but the lyrical/scanning dodginess (“You only got the Emperor job cos you were chosen by your dad!” — well, yeah, isn’t that how  it usually works?) I do though appreciate Elagabalus’ unexpectedly thoughtful admission that ‘Could argue I was sad’.
  • In the end, despite all the eyerolling from my common sense, I fell in love with the evil emperors — at least on mp3…. and that was the day I learned that some earworms are more socially acceptable than others. Protip: absently humming “In a good mood today, so I won’t slit your throat!” will get you looked at funny in most places, but especially Sunday services.
  • I am not quite as fond of the video. On rewatch, I can pick out lots of individual really funny moments, most involving Mat and either the wind machine or the chance to very obviously recreate his dorky  teenage Saturday nights at the disco — at least, I hope those moves date from his teen years. There is also how they use Dutch angles to make Ben look like he’s delivering an authentic rap. But… somehow… they’re focussed in too hard on those individual scattershot bits. Sort of a creative missing the forest for the trees effect.
  • On the other hand, I do really appreciate the chance to slow down, take a break from the warrior stereotypes and scan a few Viking… uh, peat bogs, or whatever that is ‘at the bottom of the garden’ that’s turned their servants into road-show Hobbits. Honestly I’m rather disappointed in the makeup team; as they’ve proven by now, they could’ve put a LOT more effort into making Jim & Katy really ugly. Didn’t want to scare the kiddies I guess, although it seems a weird time to start being concerned about that.
  • Seriously though, this is an unexpectedly charming slice of Viking home life, and an encouraging sign that they’re aware of the dangers of stagnation on at least some level. (Except in re: the fainting thing, unless we want to call it an official running gag, which nnnghhh… not so much.) Just sharp, clever writing that actually uses the cliches as a springboard, rather than the point, and so feels genuinely fresh & funny. Basically, yet another indication of how far they’ve come in three series.
  • Speaking of which, it’s also a nice unusual treat to see one of the other two Georges getting some play. And of course Ben — in that sweetly ineffectual mode that to my mind is criminally underused — getting another chance to show off his German, not to mention Simon proving that he can play restrained as effectively as he can do anything else. The net result is fragile, funny, and enormously charming; one of those lovely offbeat things that always seem to result when these two are paired (see also S1’s very similar-in-spirit ‘Viking Poetry’).
  • Along those lines, it’s really odd that Larry’s quirky-but-impressive knack for mimicking American used-car salesmen hasn’t really been exploited since episode two… but then he opens his mouth, and you realise that Paul Revere wasn’t actually Texan, and you think maybe it all worked out for the best, pretty much. Great hair, though. And the smile, he’s got that right down, which does help quite a bit in a toothpaste ad. Maybe he just watches Mad Men for all the wrong reasons, this is my latest theory.
  • The same rather clumsy grasp of Americana is reflected in his Bob Hale report. This is mildly disappointing, because I was really psyched to get the wry, incisively satirical British take on trans-Atlantic jingoism, and instead I got… the jingoism, more or less. It appears Bobsy was for once so tied up in self-promotion that, after the smallpox blankets, he just grabbed a few additional facts out of another interesting book without noticing it was published circa 1955.
  • He does however get major unintentionally-amusing-foreshadowing points for scornfully hilighting that one Pilgrim who brought all those shoes instead of survival gear (oddly, 139 pairs here). “Now there are some very weird priorities!” Oh, do tell, Larry?
  • Shouty Man, meanwhile, is in the midst of a fully hilarious creative comeback that of course involves showing up at a dying king’s bedside to enthusiastically hawk coffin dolls, including a butt-wiper that squirts… yeah, never gonna see the outtakes from that one in a million years, sadly enough. I’m also really enjoying this new angle where Shouty’s interactive with his customers, which seems to be what the writers are going with in order to keep the gag fresh. On account of, y’know, they were even then in the process of being nominated for a BAFTA. No, not specifically for the butt-wiper doll, but still.
  • These are also the people, and no this cannot be emphasised enough, responsible for sticking Simon in front of a camera hefting a cow’s hindquarter and spouting completely indefensible puns. (In fact, it’s not at all unlikely it’s meant to be the same guy from S2’s ‘Scottish Wedding’ bit.) Although, weirdly, the makeup team again totally misses a prime opportunity to exercise their random-body-fluid-simulation skills. Pure and total essence de Farnaby, this one, regardless.
  • As is of course the non-singy Caligula. Frankly I’d much rather they’d been obsessing over this whole sadistically hilarious ‘you offered your life for me, so pay up!’ business instead of the priest/beast, but I suppose it’d be a bit more difficult to condense into a snappy anecdote and/or rhyme. They do a pretty good job of it here, though, including the nice Blackadder-y touch implying his victims more or less deserved it. In fact these two are among the more entirely unpleasant HH characters ever — even Jim can’t save this guy.
  • Elsewhere, though, Jim gets a chance to use a slightly modified — no, wait, this is pretty much exactly how George IV would’ve reacted to the invisible-tomb thing, if he were Egyptian. Which lends a nicely surreal note to an otherwise fairly routine sketch. Unfortunately nobody seems to have thought of thus rescuing the Stupid Death, which has an oddly rushed aspect to it, as of potential unfulfilled.
  • On the subject of surreal — to the point of vaguely unsettling, really — we’re also treated to an ombudsman Mat whose quiet despair has been apparently augmented both by what sounds like a sinus infection and a fascination with Disney sitcom heroines. I’m sorry, I know it’s a kiddy comedy, but there are some things that a grown man references it’s just gonna get him glanced at askance, and Hannah Montana is one of them. Especially given the sketch ends really abruptly after that.
  • Hey, a presenter role for Dominique that does not involve weirdly ruffled polyester. I am wholly onboard with this — with anything that gets me more Dominique on my screen, really. There’s something about the snarky smarts that always seem to be lurking just behind the perky cute that keeps me compulsively watching, and for that matter had me wondering first go-round if the show really understood what it had in her… which of course they did; like Giles Terera — but even more inexplicably — it just took four series to fully kick in.
  • Although, it must be admitted: I actually kinda like the bagpipes. Yes, I’m aware this makes me weird. Used to it.

95% Accu-rat:

  • So yes, the Scots Highland Games did apparently at one point include the cow-twisting business. The good news is it seems to have been discontinued long, long ago… at least, I think it’s good news. When various modern HG websites — remember, these are still people who proudly train for the title of ‘guy who can throw the telephone pole the farthest’ — use phrases like ‘Luckily for us’ and ‘Thankfully…’ in describing the demise of an event, you can’t help but be sort of simoultaneously glad and sorry it’s gone.
  • Ah. OK, inspired by the comments below I’ve done a bit of poking into the story of would-be Jamestown colonist William ‘Original Shoe Fetish’ Mullins. Apparently the discrepancy between the two totals given by Bobsy and in the S4 New World song has to do with the fact that he also brought 13 pairs of boots to go with the 126 pairs of shoes. Larry’s obviously using the combined total. As for the rest of Mullins’ tragicomic story… well, hey, I have to save something for S4.
  • Meanwhile, George I. Theoretically, at least, a fully-fledged ladies’ man and star of some fairly exciting scandals, which may indicate the German accent of the time was considerably sexier than the modern version. At any rate, as ‘Born 2 Rule’ notes, he quite literally only gained access to the throne of Great Britain in the first place on account of the fifty-six closer candidates all being Catholic.
  • (In case you’re wondering, yes, they did make the attempt to ask at least several of them if they’d convert. They said no.)
  • Having thus basically won the World Superpower Lottery, George… did not see why he should bother upping the formality (or sociability) level beyond his prior life as Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg. Which predictably earned him quite a few snickers among the British aristocracy, because, you know, those stupid Germans, with their crude manners and weird food and hefty women! Har! No wonder the poor guy spent about a fifth of his time back in his beloved Hanover.
  • He did, however, apparently have much less difficulty making himself understood to his new underlings than this sketch indicates; remember, the common language of Europe’s glitterati at the time (ie. not only George but most of his ministers) was actually French, and by the time his reliance on Walpole had grown to the extent shown here — actually much later in his reign — George’s English had also become fairly decent.
  • It must be conceded that the American Report did a pretty good job of covering the basics of the American revolution; it’s only that Bob had such a brilliant chance to introduce newer and more intriguing details. Just for starters, Columbus of course didn’t ‘discover’ anything, no more than did the approximately 54274 other nations/races who claim they got there first (including but not limited to the Vikings, Polynesians, Japanese, Egyptians, Irish and Chinese).
  • What he and subsequent Western European would-be colonists really did was show up and announce to the current owners, “Nice place!… We’ll take it. On account of us being all superior and civilized and stuff. Har!” Right, so irony: not a huge feature of 17th century political thought. Although, how much of the Native decimation via disease was actively intentional is less obvious than indicated here. We do know the idea of Judas-gifting them smallpox-infested blankets was at least discussed, and from there it’s easy enough to imagine it being carried out, but to what extent is unclear.
  • OK, Jean-Baptiste Poquelin aka Moliere, yes, he really did take his fatal coughing fit during a production of what would be more accurately translated as The Imaginary Invalid. However it might just be pointed out that this wasn’t quite the fully cosmic co-incidence the show is implying, given that the playwright already suffered — as was practically de rigueur for your seventeenth-century sensitive artiste — from pulmonary tuberculosis. The coughing fit actually caused a haemorrhage in his already frail lungs. Still, one suspects the comedian in him probably totally approved Fate’s choice of backdrop.
 
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Posted by on May 12, 2013 in Series Three

 

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S03E06

Can you imagine it, I’m the last Plantagenet…

The show takes a midseason break from being clever and innovative, but still comes up with a plausibly charming episode. Of course, it helps a lot if you’ve got Richard III in reserve…

In this episode:

Song: The Truth About Richard III — Jim as the much-maligned monarch, Lawry as Thomas More & Mat as Shakespeare

Recurring sketches:

Historical Paramedics — Tudors (“Geoff! I forgot to feed the spiders!” “Are you insane in ye brain? We can’t feed her dead buttered spiders, that’s just crazy!”)

Horrible Points of View — Celtic (“So let’s just see what’s in the bulging mailbAUGGHHH it’s a severed Roman head!... Why would you do that?!”)

Historical Pet Shop — Celtic (“No, no, dogs don’t talk, luv! …But if you kill ’em, an’ eat their flesh, they will talk to you in a vision…” “OK, go on then, out you go! Walkies!”)

Bob Hale — War of the Roses Report (“Luckily, the Archbishop of Canterbury steps in and sorts the whole thing out by inventing Love Day: when the Lancastrians and the Yorkists march through the High Street holding hands. And I’m not even making that bit up.”)

Come Dine With Me — Aztec Days of Maize and Beans (“…where we just eat… maize and beans. For nineteen days. It’s to celebrate the end of the dry season.” “Yeah, and the beginning of the windy one!”)

Shouty Man — New! Multi-Purpose String (“Why not use it to make a string bag? It’s up to 50% better at carrying stuff than your bare hands!”)

Stupid Deaths — Maria, Countess of Coventry (covered her acne with a white lead foundation, which led to more blemishes, which required slathering more toxic stuff on her face… “You’re as thick as your makeup! Ooh, if looks could kill — and they did!”)

One-offs:

Terrible Tudors

Henry VIII’s Tudor Diet Plan — “Just seven hours of feasting a day, and you too could have a body to die for!”

Savage Stone Age

When Farming Was Invented — You know that one famous Calvin & Hobbes strip on how milk was discovered? This right here would be the live-action sequel. “…I quite like the sound of being a faaahhma, with a hooom…”

Gorgeous Georgians

The Death of Nelson — “It’s just that if he was saying that this was his destiny, and you do kiss him… then forevermore, people will think that Britain’s greatest naval hero on his deathbed asked his right-hand man for a bit of a snog.”

So We Pickled ‘im — “What did you do with Nelson’s body, by the way?” “Oh, we wanted to make sure it was preserved… so we put it in the barrel of brandy.” “Pphlbbbt!”

Field Notes:

  • Of course, it would have to happen to Richard III, of all HH characters. Only Jim could give a performance as a pathetic victim of fate so completely amazing that fate had to resort to bunging one of the most important historical discoveries of the 21st century to date under a random car park, just to regain the upper hand.
  • And even then, it didn’t succeed entirely — or even really seriously. Despite giving some of the most elegant songwriting in HH musical history a few scuff marks (dealt with in detail below), this remains a tiny perfect musical comedy masterpiece, a transcendent triumph of… well, yeah, Howick-ness, really. Aided and abetted by the happiest combination of lush production values and cleverly snarky staging since the King of Bling hip-hopped his way through Hampton Court.
  • (In particular, whomever came up with those little kindergarten drawings under ‘Good With Kids’– do you by any chance have a Kickstarter? Cos if so, I just became your biggest backer. For whatever, I don’t care.)
  • It joins a remarkable series of definitive musical performances that have thus far included Dick Turpin, William Wallace and Cleopatra (…and will, probably, include an Aztec priest). Just how precisely Jim can manipulate sentiment, especially in song, isn’t exactly a deep secret at this point — although it’s worth noting that in terms of creating plausible, nuanced characters, starting from pure adorableness is even more challenging than from George IV’s whining. And more interesting, in a way, because the implications run much deeper.
  • Thus, this version of Richard III is teddy-bear cuddly — the actual fur cloak is another brilliant touch — and sympathetic, largely because he’s evidently found a decent anger-management therapist or at least ditched the badger fixation. But because it’s Jim, there’s always a hint of self-interest lurking around the edges; the possibility that he’s at best exaggerating, or at worst cynically manipulating the facts in his favour. So, y’know, if you still want to enjoy the song totally as-is, that works too… just not in the way you may have intended.
  • So yeah, the show obviously now knows its strengths intimately enough to basically take an episode off from being innovative and/or whacky and still be… oh, wait, hold the whackiness train, I forgot there was a Historical Paramedics bit. Aka, at this point, the youngest troupe members’ personal comedy jungle gym (“It sounds like she’s suffering from… SICKNESS!” “I concur!”). Which is… sort of disappointing, in a way.
  • They’ve clearly by now been fully convinced of their own preciousness — probably couldn’t help it really; if the trick to keeping a straight face is biting the inside of your cheek the entire crew on these must’ve terrified their dentists. While it’s never a bad thing that Jim and Mat are enjoying themselves, the demented drollery of the HP sketches particularly depends on how perfectly — Pythonically? — a deadpan they can achieve.
  • On the other hand, they don’t take the farming sketch seriously at all — well, Mat seems to be pretty into the spear thing, also his Ali G-except-white schtick, but that’s about it — and it’s one of the most engagingly funny non-HP things they’ve ever done together. The anarchic innocence of Calvin & Hobbes being, now that I come to think of it, a perfect metaphor for their professional relationship, up to and including the drawing rude stuff on Martha’s scripts. Besides, Mat and mouthfuls of strange foods is becoming almost as amusing a minor fetish as Larry being covered in ick.
  • *ahem* As I was saying, this ep is mostly about the more gentle — oh, sorry, sorry, I forgot, there was also Henry VIII. Although they did manage to hold off on the fat jokes for a full two-and-a-half series, gotta give them that. Ironically enough, though, what Harry’s actually describing here is his original middle-aged S1 incarnation. While I’m not going to deny that those fetching strawberry-blond curls are an improvement in some important respects, it’s at the expense of reality.
  • So anyway, this ep more-or-less covers the gentle charms of the familiar… oh, right, and Historical Points of View. Ehhhh… close enough, inasmuch as ‘familiar’ in this show totally covers ‘hot guy compulsively chatting to severed heads whilst taking Simon Cowell-related potshots’. The overstuffed parlour effect complete with floral arrangement over the mantel is a bit unusual, though — sort of weirdly over-precious… wait, this is Baynton, that was probably the point. Which would also handily explain the chatting-to-severed-heads thingy.
  • More seriously, this is my favourite of the new (non-Masterchef) S3 recurring bits, which isn’t saying a whole lot, but does take in how nicely Mat manages to capture the parody subject. I have no idea what that is in particular, but anyone who’s ever dealt with public broadcasting anywhere recognizes the validity of Ombudsman on the Verge as a comedy concept. That expression on ‘poetry’ perfectly captures it — and incidentally provides some insight into how hard our Mathew must otherwise have to work to keep his face in ‘blandly nice young man’ mode.
  • Oh, and bonus lesson in how to tell your reviewer is Canadian: I’m looking at Larry the Celtic Poet, squatting by his fireside, imbued with all the dignity of his tradition, and I’m thinking “that is totally Red Green’s ancient ancestor!”… Yeah, you may just want to go with that one.
  • Come to think of it, between this sketch and the HPet Shop, I think I might be starting to see a pattern — maybe these quietly desperate types are the only ones who can see the historical intrusions into their world, or just attract them somehow, thus driving them to the levels of eccentricity we heartlessly chuckle at here? Boy, are you lot lucky I’m too busy to write fanfic on that theme.
  • While I’m on, must remember this time to give props to the ever-sadistically-creative makeup team. I’m almost more impressed with their making Martha look that frumpy than I am the wasp stings.
  • There is a slight improvement in the Pet Shop giggle quotient here, partly because the historical narrative is becoming more coherent, but mostly cos I do love me some big stupid Celtic Ben — here with bonus new and ridiculous accent, yet…. uh, with apologies to anyone whose accent it may actually be. That’s the lovely thing about Ben’s roles: even though I may have little-to-no idea what the voice he’s using is or why, I can always be sure it’s accurate. Does wonders for cross-cultural understanding.
  • OK, fine, so most of the gently charming stuff is provided by the longtime regulars. Speaking of both that and coherent narratives, I must give all props to Bobsy Hale. Though for once too busy explaining the mass of shifting and conflicting loyalties that is the English Civil War to bother with the usual outlandish distractions, he still manages to deftly extract the funny, while also still being approximately 237 years old. That scenario right there is about as close as I will ever come to understanding where the I *HEART* HALE crowd is coming from.
  • Death is also deep into the amusingly predictable, exchanging beauty tips with skeletons to no-one’s surprise but quite a lot of enjoyment. You can just see him with a copy of Cosmopolitan open on that desk, can’t you? Meantime, Shouty Man hawks string, of all the oddly innocuous things, and thanks to a Simon in full sweetly earnest straight man mode (having to my relief put the brakes on the manic hopping and grunting from his last caveman act), does a hilariously thorough job of it.
  • Ohai Aztecs!…Wait, isn’t that the Inca cartoon intro lady? Awww, show, and you were doing so well, too. Ah well, still nice to see them integrated into mainstream sketches — here primarily because the writers always tend to interpret ‘kid-friendly content’ as ‘providing as many fart jokes as possible’, but hey, they’ve got the real CDWM narrator in to make it bearable to the grownups, and well done him for taking it on. Just personally, though, I’d like to hear more about that prehistoric super-whitening laundry detergent the Aztecs evidently had access to…
  • There’s more gentle goodness in the Death of Nelson, another little mini-sitcom which I’m assuming was intended as a satire on all those stalwartly romantic Patrick O’Brien-esque things where Russell Crowe’s the captain and the music is sweeping and whatnot. Even if it wasn’t intentional, it works so perfectly — and the gags are otherwise so pointless — I’m going to assume it was anyway.
  • Despite a certain rather conspicuously missing eyepatch, everybody makes a lovely authentic job of blending into the milieu. Especially Mat, whose character clearly benefits from all that practice he’s been getting lately at being, well, normal.
  • Also, Rattus’ teeny, inexplicably clean hankie… squeee! Also also, the fainting fit after ‘coming over all brainy’… yeah, you know the drill. Quoting the rat extensively is a bit beyond my purview here (there aren’t so many ways for an adult reviewing a children’s show to maintain dignity that I can afford to ignore any) but rest assured he’s being very quotable indeed lately. Evidently the puppeteers were given the same freedom to please themselves in S3 as the rest of the team.

95% Accu-rat:

  • Right, so as the entire world and its uncle is aware by now, the real Richard III has been found where he was hastily buried: under a random car park in Leicester — well, it probably wasn’t one back then, but you get the idea. Thus filling in one of the most important gaps in English royal history and, according to the otherwise excellent (largely because Farnaby-anchored) documentary King in the Car Park, making grown women cry. And probably go home to write passionate fanfiction. I foresee several new additions to the time-travelling romance genre in the near future.
  • Anyway, the day the discovery was confirmed, the question on everyone else’s lips was of course ‘Hey, wait, does this mean Horrible Histories lied to us?’ Because the media, paragon of journalistic subtlety that it totally isn’t, was reporting gleefully that he was hunchbacked after all! This is because the media is composed of the same average laypeople who don’t realise that hunchback is a distinct spinal condition, and besides spending a few moments Googling would’ve severely cut into their poignant-quote-composing time.
  • So yes, hunchback, or kyphosis, is in fact a distinct spinal condition, and not in fact the one Richard had. Forensic scientists studying the bones describe him instead as suffering from the much more common scoliosis, in which the spine is twisted S-fashion, not hunched. Meaning that no, Richard didn’t actually walk his full height, and probably would also have had had at least a slight limp, as the condition commonly hitches one hip higher than the other. It also correspondingly hitches one shoulder higher than the other, which it’s easy to imagine opportunistic enemies exaggerating into a monstrous hump.
  • Mind you, this was an era in which any physical deformity was of course a mark of God’s displeasure, if not actually a sign that the Devil had got there first (as late as the nineteenth century, forensic researchers would be clinging to the theory that outward appearance can indicate personality traits). So, a little exaggeration here and there… throw in a withered arm just to make it clear that this was a man in whom the milk of human kindness had literally dried up… and hey presto! A propaganda monster for the ages.
  • Lost in all of this, of course, is the question of whether our Richard actually did anything monstrous. Even granted that he wasn’t actually the medieval equivalent of Lex Luthor, the mystery of the princes still features him as a deservedly prime suspect — although an even better case can be made for the incoming Tudor King, Henry VII. (The standard one features as the plot of Josephine Tey’s brilliant, if retroactively flawed, Daughter of Time.) Put very simply, Henry undoubtedly had a lot more to fear from a pair of Lancastrian spawn running around loose.
  • Most likely, Richard really was a nice guy… but as the HH version admits himself a pragmatic one, in pragmatic times. Based on what I’ve read, probably overall a bit more difficult to cast as a romantic hero than his ardent supporters would like to admit.
  • For a full discussion of the realities of the Tudor diet, see under S01E10. As a preview: Henry (whose weight gain in later life was exacerbated by injury-induced immobility) actually ate quite a few vegetables — and was known to have grown artichokes in the Hampton Court gardens. The show itself seems to have felt the over-the-top ‘VEGETABLES ARE FOR POOR PEOPLE!’ schtick needed some apologia; Rattus more accurately refers to the issue as involving uncooked veggies — or even more accurately, with veggies prepared without spices or other condiments.
  • In a former life as a book reviewer yours truly had the opportunity to become intimately familiar with the Tudor diet, including the sugar work — the same discipline that the Food Network has discovered makes for such daring and dazzling TV, and back then the one area in which English cooks seriously impressed their Continental counterparts. Overall, the reality of Tudor cuisine was much more imntriguing than the ‘random hunks of meat’ cliches, and I still highly recommend Peter Brears’ book.
  • Tudor medicine, on the other hand… yeah, I guess we’re still talking intriguing, as long as we’re also not eating at the time. As this hilariously candid children’s museum notes, spiders (or ‘young frogs’) were indeed used back then as a cure for asthma — the butter was to help them slip down easier, natch.
  • The same page describes a whole lot of wildly entertaining stuff the HP sketch inexplicably missed, including the cures for gout (“boil a red-haired dog in oil, add worms and the marrow from pig bones. Rub the mixture in”) and my favourite, liver complaint (“drink a pint of ale every morning for a week – with nine head-lice drowned in it”)
  • OK, yes, Nelson in all probability did ask Hardy to kiss him; according to this rather delightful online Phrase Finder, there are fully three eyewitness accounts testifying not only that he said it but that Hardy did in fact give him a little peck on the cheek, no doubt nobly hiding his heartbreak behind his brass buttons the while, sweeping music swelling in the background.
  • More seriously, the same site notes that …The later story, that Nelson’s last words were “Kismet [fate] Hardy”, aren’t supported by any contemporary evidence. In fact, ‘kismet’ isn’t recorded as being in use in English to mean fate until as late as 1830, a quarter of a century after Nelson died. Essentially, later historians totally made the whole thing up because ewwww, guys kissing! Yes, apparently later historians had roughly the same ability to handle homoeroticism  as Lucy did Snoopy’s dog germs.
  • Actually, of course, same-sex smooching was one of the mundane realities of the 18th centuries, an era during which even the most platonic friendships reached a pitch that routinely gets perfectly innocent period authors — like Jane Austen — accused of lavishly erotic innuendo on the modern Internet. It’s all rather silly, really.
 
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Posted by on May 5, 2013 in Series Three

 

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