Gladiatress

So what's this place call itself?

It is called Pritain, Generalissimo.

And the people? Are they rough?

Rough? No.

No. The men, they shave all over the body.

They gotta just moustaches.

(Small laugh)

- 20 mile you say?

- Si.

And the women...

Caesar, the women...they fight like the mens.

The ladies, they like-a to fight?

Si.

Get the ships. This I got to see.

Launch the ships! We go to fight.

Hey! Hey!

(Rumble of thunder)

WOMAN:
But Caesar did not reckon

on fighting the Dubonni -

a tribe famed worldwide for their Celtic Kick

and their digging.

And he didn't reckon on fighting my sisters.

The eldest, Princess Dwyfuc, noble and brave...

(Blows horn)

..and babyless.

The middle child, Smirgut the Fierce...

whom we never speak of...

for various reasons.

And me, Worthaboutapig.

Though, admittedly,

I was probably less of a threat.

But I was immensely popular in the village...

- Hi, guys. And how are we today?

- Go away.

..with the animals.

Good, good.

- Morning.

- Ah!

(Mutters and hisses)

(Hisses)

Morning.

Nice top.

Ahh!

(Punching and ripping)

Sorry.

I was a career beeherd. Did I tell you that?

I loved my job.

I was working on hypnotising the bees

with a special language that I had invented...

Banalla, Orlanna, Assilda.

Gwenaaaacch!

..and then borrow their honey.

They do everything I say.

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

Ow! Ow! Not up there!

Ow! Ooh! Ooh!

I remember that day

was the day of the husband trials

and all the men were gorgeous.

I am Drith of the Silures.

Son of Froth, of the golden knees.

My arm is smooth.

From my mighty organ, a great white river flows,

both in the morning and at night.

Always my big moustache tastes of pork.

- Ooh. Drith's back.

- Thank you.

- Is this the last batch?

- Mm.

Seen anyone you fancy?

Name?

Wthol of the Votadini.

Hyahhh!

Hyyah!

- It seems a better standard than last year.

- Please.

(Yelps and breaks wind repeatedly)

Next!

Id have done him. For the prestige.

Gods, imagine it. Id be Mrs Hairy Geordie

Woman. Id be a somebody.

- Worthaboutapig?

- Yes, sorry.

- My problems first.

- Of course.

This is Kax of the Velgai, ma'am.

WORTHABOUTAPIG:
Nice shoes.

- Oh, pity.

WORTHABOUTAPIG:

Excuse me, what's wrong with him?

He doesn't speak.

OK, so what actually is it

about men that you don't like?

Look at them.

The flower of British manhood!

And the whole smooth thing, Pig, it's all wrong.

All the hair is in the wrong place.

You can't have sex with a man like that.

It's like...kissing a seal.

Im never going to live that down, am I? Twice.

Twice!

And the first time was a dare.

Princess!

Princess Dwyfuc!

Come quick! There's a foreigner come,

with huge, great big, hairy, wandering hands!

Make way for Princess Dwyfuc!

Morning. Hello, all. Morning, all.

Hello, Mrs Thingy-basket-woman.

How is the disease?

Good. Hello, you poorly little chap.

How's the croup?

Make way, princess coming through.

Lovely to see you all. Lovely.

Oh, look. A Gaul!

Isn't he Gaully, Dwyfuc?

- Gaully and...unusual.

- Sister?

- Yes?

- Don't talk to me in front of the people.

Oh, sorry. Forgot.

Ugh!

WORTHABOUTAPIG:
Ye gods!

(Squelching)

(Squelch)

It's detachable.

Not for me.

He's all yours.

What? Mine?

Mine? What, really?

WOMEN:
The Queen! The Queen!

ALL:
All hail, our Queen!

Where am I? What's going on?

We're outside now, ma'am.

You stand before great Queen

Tuathfhlaifthfth of the Dubonni.

- Eldest daughter?

- Yes, almighty Queen?

Stop licking my arse.

Our land stretches from farthest west

to distant east.

From over there to over there.

- Mighty are we and none do we fear.

MAN:
He can't understand, he's a Gaul.

Well, fetch the one

who knows the language of the Gauls.

Yes.

Bonjour!

(Impressed muttering from crowd)

Monsieur.

Sorry. A little slower.

The novels.

He comes from a land of giant cakes.

I know what he's saying.

He says the Romans have landed.

Shh, Pig! I don't think he did.

Romans? Here?

Where?

A l'est. In Kent. Les Kents.

Did you say...the Kents?

Oui.

- The Romans are attacking the Kents!

- (Rumble of thunder)

(All cheer)

We hate the Kents.

Look after him, sister.

Ive got a husband to find.

Knickers...stinky stuff...

Welcome to my humble home.

Isn't it hot?

Ill light a fire. No.

Um...

That's...my bed.

That's where I sleep.

And this is how I sleep.

Me, Worthaboutapig.

You?

Jean...

Marcosivellaunivironmandiboule.

What a big name.

Let me look at your arm.

Ill slap some honey on that.

Before bed.

Oh, why do I find it so easy to talk to you?

Huh?

It must be my lucky night.

Im not meant to be lucky.

I...was born...

..on the shortest day, you see.

That's why Im an outcast.

An outsider.

Like you.

Mm.

- Ow!

- Oh, sorry.

You, me, jiggy jiggy jiggy?

Yes.

Um... Ill be that one.

Do you like what you see?

Be gentle with me. But use your own judgment.

- (Horn)

- Um, ignore that.

- Qu'est-ce qui se passe?

- It's nothing. It's just the alarm.

OK...

JEAN:
Wh... Where are your tits?

(Long deep blast)

- Where are they?

- Toward the east!

To the hill fort!

We don't have a hill fort.

Don't go to the hill fort!

Shhh! Shhh!

Can you ask them to keep it down?

It's a big day for me.

- Pig, the Romans are here.

- Lovely.

Help me!

- Did you?

- Um... We started to.

Then he said I had boring breasts

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