The hall exploded into chaos.

The night sitting outside the firing line just stared in shock,

trying to process what was happening.

Men stuck closer in tried to dive out of the way. The unlucky nights, the men standing right

next to Robert when his brother's opinion came raining down, while they were screaming for vengeance. They wanted blood. And it's hard to blame them.

They were, after all, drenched.

The shit is bananas, B. be a, and a, yeah.

The shit is bananas, B, a, yeah,

a, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Welcome to the British History Podcast.

My name is Jamie, and this is episode 437. Everyone's pissed.

This show is ad-free due to member support and as a way of thanking members for keeping

the show independent, I offer members only content

including extra episodes and rough transcripts and you can get instant access to all the

members extras by signing up for membership at the British History Podcast

dot com for about the price of a lot of tape per month.

And thank you very much to Jacqueline, Alec, and Bruce for signing up already.

It's hard to overstate the political shitstorm that Rufus and Henry created in that one golden

moment. If you think back to very recent history, that strange hollow hell that we call the year 2020,

there was a news cycle that revolved around milkshakes.

Specifically, politicians and cops getting milkshakes thrown at them, mostly by young people.

In response, there were authorities unironically demanding that these kids be charged

...