Plebs

Ladies and gentlemen, what we are building here

will not just be another luxury apartment block.

No, no, no. Number one, the Forum,

will stand as an iconic and urban landmark for centuries,

- if not millennia to come. - Mm-hm.

Clad entirely in marble,

and situated in the vibrant Aventine district,

our spacious suites let you experience life

in a multicultural, mixed-income community,

within the safety of a gated complex with 24-hour security.

And despite some resistance

from small-minded neighbourhood groups,

our friends in the Senate have thankfully confirmed

that this development

will be a huge boost to the local area

and drastically improve the quality of life for local residents.

Waargh!

What was that?

Probably just some plebs mucking about.

You know what they're like.

Fucking hell.

It's just so brutal, isn't it?

To lose your best friend like that.

- Yeah, thanks. It really is. - I actually meant me.

He was my best friend too.

At least we've got each other, eh?

Yeah. At least there's that.

- Do you want a cuddle? - No, thank you.

How are you holding up, fella?

Oh, you know, comfort eating.

Classic. I did the same when me dog died.

I really stuffed my face, mostly with dog food,

cos I had so much left over.

Oh, aye? Any good?

No, it was revolting, but it did make my pubes thick and shiny.

Ooh! I might give it a try.

Grumio, what the hell is all this?

You told me to sort out a spread, so you're welcome.

I said nibbles, not whole rotisserie chickens.

You can nibble anything, mate.

And I thought I'd give Stylax a proper send-off.

- It's what he would have wanted. - Hardly! This is very much what you wanted.

Any overlap is pure coincidence.

Salve, boys, loving the venison.

The... OK, terrific.

All right, landlord, ta for coming.

Oh, I wouldn't have missed it. I wanted to pay my respects.

Stylax has gone, but he lives on in our hearts.

- Thank you. That's very kind. - And in the rental agreement.

So don't expect a discount just because your flatmate is,

well, even flatter.

- Of course not. Why would I? - So sorry for your loss.

Flavia. Oh, thanks for coming.

Not at all. I love funerals.

It's where I met three of my husbands.

And black is slimming, of course.

Right, well, I'm glad you're coping.

I'm not. I'm deeply moved.

I mean, poor Shredder, that beautiful, stupid, gorgeous,

gormless face crushed beyond recognition.

And how awful for you, Copier,

to lose your friend and your job in one fell swoop.

My job? What?

Well, as a pair you were tolerable.

Shredder's smooth features softened your jagged edges.

Without him by your side, I'm afraid it's all too much.

No. No, no, no, no, you can't do this.

What... What will I do for money?

Don't ask me, Copier.

Ask the vandals who dropped a ten-ton slab

on that angelic face.

Forgive me for ear-wigging,

but you met three husbands at funerals?

I did, yes. Sorry, I don't believe we've met.

Oh.

Stylax Eurisces...

Terrible, terrible. What a tragic accident that was.

Well, it was a mistake rather than an accident

and a very costly one.

So I strongly feel that I am owed

some sort of compensation.

I see. So what was your relationship to the deceased?

He was my best friend and flatmate.

You do realise that compensation

would only ever go to his next of kin?

And my father as well.

- Father? - Yes.

That's what I said.

I'm Marcus Eurisces... Stylax's son.

Now isn't that weird, that you didn't mention father first?

Yes. Sorry, we were such close friends that I sometimes forget.

Mm-hm. Well... due to the rather dramatic manner of his death,

the coroner struggled to learn anything

- from your father's body. - I can fill you in.

But he does know that Stylax was between 25 and 28,

- from his teeth. - He... Right, yes, 28.

Hm, what does that make you, then?

Well, I... 14?

I'm 14. I have a hormone condition

and the grief's put years on me.

Horse shit! You're not 14, you liar.

- You look more like 40. - All right. That's a bit...

You're just some chancer trying to cash in.

- Lubo? - OK, fine.

I'm not his son, all right?

But me and Stylax had big plans, OK?

He talked about being a millionaire.

- I'd leave now if I were you. - My best friend,

an innocent man, has died, OK?

- And someone has to pay. - Fine. I'll make sure

the builder who dropped the slab gets fired.

- No, I meant pay money to me. - Show him out, Lubo.

OK. It's OK, Lubo, I'm leaving.

This is the living room.

A little balconette through there.

And that is the Grumio.

He's pretty much a fixture there these days.

And this is the bedroom which, as you know,

has just become vacant.

Great. I'll just give the mattress a quick firmness test.

Thank you so much for tidying up for these viewings, Grumio.

I can't be doing housework.

I'm knee-deep in mourning for Stylax here.

Right. And by "mourning", you mean generally slobbing about?

And really committing to it. I'm officially going to seed.

That one's for you, big man.

Some of us aren't ready to replace you yet.

I'm not replacing him. I'm replacing his rent money.

Especially not with a bearded twat who Stylax hated.

What? That's not true, is it, buddy?

What? No, that's... just the grief talking... buddy.

Yeah. I want to check out that balcony.

Look, I know he's not ideal, OK?

But it's not like we have a choice.

Hi, I'm Jason.

Oh, great. Marcus. Do come in.

Cheers then, Aurelius. We'll be in touch.

Any idea when that will be?

Because my mum has already packed my things. Marcus?

Can I offer you some water, Jason?

- Oh, yeah, cheers. - Grumio, this is Jason.

He's er... not Aurelius, crucially.

Jason, this is Grumio, my slave.

- All right? Nice meat. - Thank you, it's venison.

So, shall I give you the tour, then?

Er... No, I'm all right.

What? You don't want to see the room?

- Er... What do you mean? - The room... for rent?

Are you not here about renting the room?

No. I'm here about my job.

Ooh. I don't think we can help you with that, mate.

You can, actually. Go back to Crassus Construction

and ask them to give me my job back.

I'm sorry? Are you the guy who dropped that slab?

- Yeah, that's me, but... - By Jove!

- It wasn't my fault. - I'm taking that back.

I'd done, like, three shifts...

I don't give a shit. You killed our best friend.

As a slave, you know what it's like to be overworked?

- Yeah, not really, as it goes. - It was my boss's fault really.

It's Crassus who's, "Oh, fuck the harnesses.

Fuck the helmets and that."

He's only not been arrested

because he's giving bungs to senators.

It's him you wanna stick it on.

Yeah, go and stick it on him.

We're not taking advice from some murdering prat,

- thank you, Grumio. - Please, mate.

Look, help a brother out. I'm stressed,

my girlfriend's gone ape shit, I'm getting a cold sore.

It's better than being squashed by a slab of marble.

Well, you say that, but that's quick.

- Cold sores really hang about. - Just get out!

All right. No need to get aggy.

It was nice meeting you both, anyway.

I liked him best of the two.

Oh!

All right?

Hey, it's Grumio, isn't it?

It's Jason. Squashed your mate.

Oh, yeah. Good to see you again.

- Yeah. What are you up to? - I'm trying to go to seed.

But it's harder than you'd think.

These vinos are well pricey. You?

I'm gonna surprise my girlfriend with dinner,

a bottle of something nice,

to prove I'm not a complete waster.

Right. Cos I were thinking, if me and you went halves,

we could buy something punchy and get shitted in the park.

Yeah, all right. Let's do that.

Oh.

Mr Crassus. Hello, it's me again.

Oh, it's the hormonal 14-year-old.

Shouldn't you be in school?

You need to go to school, mate, to learn about corporate corruption.

Step on it, chaps, lose the pleb.

Hup!

Turn right. And turn.

What are you playing at, you loony?

You breach health and safety guidelines.