What it lacks in sibling sex and skeleton armies Britannia makes up for in plain weirdness with savagery, superstition and strange visions abound Coast of Gaul, AD43. Roman commander and all-round hard bastard Aulus Plautius (David Morrissey) surveys his prisoners, an animal carcass draped fetchingly across his shoulders. Ninety years after Julius Caesar pitched up on its shores, only to meet the Druids and leg it, the Romans are finally ready to conquer the Celts. But just as the ships are set to sail, four soldiers are caught deserting. “Britannia is a cursed land, ruled by the dead,” gibbers one. “They feast on human flesh,” whimpers another. To be fair, they’re not too wide of the mark. While our current leaders hopefully stop short of dining on the innards of benefits claimants, were the ancient Romans to clock the suited corpses that currently line Parliament, and the primeval acts of self-immolation occurring therein, they’d be back on their ships before you could say “Hail Caesar”.
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