A Roman column is moving through a dense forest in what is evidently hostile territory, only the forest isn’t so dense. The trees are neatly placed, of generally even thickness, and there’s not a sign of undergrowth on the forest floor – just a pretty green base that looks like a well manicured lawn. OK, let’s be kind to Hollywood for once and assume that the locals graze their sheep there. It looks like a public park somewhere just beyond the outskirts of Los Angeles, but maybe it isn’t.
But then the column is set upon by club-wielding, extremely hirsute men in woolly bear costumes who look terribly unrefined as befits their status as non-Roman extras. The Romans, on the other hand, are commendably smart. Their officers are clean shaven and wear well fitting uniforms with rather fetching helmets in various sophisticated designs. Even the rank-and-file carry pristine designer shields with a rather fetching embossed pattern in purple and green. And that’s why the Romans win the battle.
This is, of course, as it should be. The Romans were indeed a civilised and upright bunch of people who knew the importance of being properly kitted out, whereas the Britons, Gauls et al were just a bunch of ne’er-do-well, cave-dwelling rebels who needed to be brought to heel for their own sake. Historical veracity is well served yet again, and my only disappointment was that a family of dinosaurs didn’t turn up to make a meal of the fallen.