"Friends, Britons, Countrybreds," continued Boadicea, "lend me your ears and" (with a nod to the Vice) "your mouths."
Loud and prolonged howls from the surging mob.
"These snifty Romans are about to invade our private country, and we must arise in our might and—er—puck them in the neck."
Loud and prolonged howls from the surging mob.
"I have got it in for them because they scourged me too—you know, gave me an awful hiding. I was licked by the Lictor—lammed like anything."
Loud cheers from the mob.
"That's nothing to cheer about you 'normous Asses. . . . Anyhow, they are about to invade us somewhere about Bournemouth beach, and it is up to all good Ancient Britons to arise in their might and biff them on the napper. . . . (Cheer, you Fat-heads !) . . .! shall lead you in battle and drive this chariot myself. You will see many Romans cut in halves and, if you watch carefully, perhaps Julius Cæsar himself—
