GE - a few giggles Caesar and his invasion army land on the southern shores of Brita

[john moore]

Caesar and his invasion army land on the southern shores of Britain
and
>immediately begin terrorising the natives, burning villages, wreaking
>havoc and generally taking over. The local English chieftains, whilst
>drinking tea, consider what to do.
>
>"I think we should go down there and give these Roman chappies a damn
>good thrashing" says one.  The others agree and the tribes charge at
the
>invaders. Within hours the English are routed and lie bleeding and
dying
>on the battlefield, victims of the most advanced fighting force on the
>planet.
>
>This story is repeated as the Roman army pushes north. Local
chieftains
>and tribes are defeated by the hundred, few escape and the Romans are
>beginning to enjoy themselves. Eventually the army crosses the
Scottish
>Border and camps beneath a mist enshrouded mountain.  After an
>uncomfortable night listening to strange bagpipe music drifting down
>from the hills Caesar looks out of his tent and sees a lone unarmed
>Scotsman, naked to the waist and wearing only a kilt standing on the
>summit.
>
>"Come on then!" taunts the lone Scot to the Roman army below.
>
>Caesar commands six legionnaires to climb the hill and deal with the
>native. The legionnaires shuffle off and ascend into the highland mist
>which closes about them. The army below hears screams and groans. The
>mist opens and the lone Scotsman comes dancing back to the summit -
not
>a mark on him - and taunts the army "Come on then, is that all you've
>got?"
>
>Caesar is now mightily displeased and orders two hundred legionnaires
>and ten chariots up the hill. The mist closes and the army listens in
>dread for the next two hours as the air is rent by the screams of
dying
>men and horses. The screams suddenly stop and a single chariot wheel
>rolls to a stop by Caesar 's feet. The mist opens once more to reveal
>the Scotsman, still unmarked, gesticulating to the Romans and
displaying
>a remarkably hairy backside as he raies his kilt in defiance.
>
>Caesar is by now irate in the extreme and orders everyone to attack.
>Three thousand legionnaires, four hundred chariots and sixteen cook
>wagons thunder up the mountain and once more grey mist closes about
>them.
>
>For a day and a night the sounds of terrible battle echo amongst the
>hills and glens. Caesar sitting on his horse on the plain below is a
>veteran of many campaigns but he cannot remember hearing such sounds
of
>suffering, the crash of weapons is deafening, the dying screams and
>gurgles of men and animals intolerable.
>
>As he waits for news of the battle one badly maimed legionnaire
returns
>dragging his mangled body from tuft of grass to tuft of grass with the
>only arm he has left. He stops below Caesar's horse and looks up with
>his one good eye at his illustrious leader.....
>
>"Caesar" he croaks "Caesar, don't go! It's a trap"
>
>"There's two of them!"
>
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