From an African Chartist to a Hamburg insurrectionist and a defiant suffragette, a historian chooses inspiring stories too often untold

The site of Wellington's greatest victory, where the course of history was changed

Despite his best efforts the 53-year-old actor still managed to look somewhat unkempt with his scraggy locks, creases in his suit and his top button loose.

“I learned more than I ever learned in school.”

Sharpe’s Enemy Superior Episode of Series By Kristin Battestella Just when you thought I was through talking about the British Napoleonic series Sharpe, I present the fourth episode for review. 1994’s Sharpe’s Enemy continues the superior levels established in the previous telefilms. Revenge, damsels in distress, war politics, and rapacious villainy- Enemy has it all. When the beautiful young Lady Farthingdale (Elizabeth Hurley, Bedazzled) is abducted by the vile deserter Obadiah Hakeswill (Pete Postlethwaite), her crusty Colonel husband reluctantly sends Major Richard Sharpe (Sean Bean) to the rescue. Sergeant Harper (Daragh O’Malley) and Sharpe’s wife, guerilla leader Teresa Moreno (Assumpta Serna) have misgivings about the rescue and the nearby French. Sharpe gains a new ally in rifleman Captain ‘Sweet William’ Frederickson (Phillip Whitchurch), but French spy Major Ducos (Feodor Atkine) makes life difficult for Sharpe. We may think of it as stunt casting now, but I don’t think Elizabeth Hurley was as big then as she is now. Naturally, she’s only here for her buxom self, but it’s easy to jump on board with the young wife lusting after Sharpe. Pete Postlethwaite is again delightfully creepy as Hakeswill. He’s slick and twisted, and as much as the gals may think Sharpe dreamy, Hakeswill is probably a more realistic notion of how crusty soldiers really behaved. Assumpta Serna is again wonderful as Teresa Moreno-she is the most developed, confident, and likeable of all the women in the series. And of course, Daragh O’Malley is the ever faithful Harper.Perhaps the storylines in Sharpe’s Enemy work well because they hail from Bernard Cornwell’s novel, but the plot begins after the events of Sharpe’s Company. You don’t have to watch one to understand the other, but Enemy weaves a complete tale when most sequels stretch material too thin. In the scope of the war with Napoleon, Sharpe’s Enemy is small-focusing rather on personal and private battles. Sharpe again has to sit back while foolish and rich gentleman move above him. He must indulge them while dealing with Hakeswill. Sharpe, unfortunately, pays the ultimate price. Major Ducos enters the picture as the vile ear of Napoleon-a not so subtle reminder that this is really supposed to be the English versus the French. After the excellent action of Sharpe’s Company, there’s not a lot of big battles in Enemy. Small skirmishes with deserters make it tough to tell who’s fighting who. Sharpe’s Enemy, however, showcases another kind of action utilized in the series. He’s quite notorious in the books, but up until now, onscreen Sharpe has been a one woman man. It’s food for thought to see him with another woman at this point in the story. Infidelity is a funny thing, but it’s not meant to be taken so seriously here. Bean fans will probably find Sharpe sexy, and the guys will love Hurley and Serna. Something for everyone. Yet again the DVD transfer seems a bit off, and as involved as the story is in Sharpe’s Enemy, the film ends a tad abruptly. Unless you read the books, you don’t find out what happens to Lady Farthingdale, and Sharpe’s daughter is never mentioned again. These quibbles aren’t rectified, per se, but at least there’s more fun to be had in Sharpe’s Honour. Sharpe’s Enemy may be a bit too saucy for younger folks, but the depth and the questions raised may bring one to read the books. There’s enough action, beefcake, cheesecake, and vengeance for any audience to enjoy Sharpe’s Enemy. Please see the comments below for our review of the Sharpe's Enemy novel.

E. Elle is hosting this blogfest, and I'm happy to play along in stretching the old imagination! So, ever the intrepid here's my contribution. * * * Why, why had I agreed to enter into a reality TV show – mad or what? Dream Wannabe Scriptwriter Challenge & Reality TV Show. Write an episode for the Sharpe series. The headline caught my eye, (Wow! Working with Sean Bean- it don't get better than that) and first sub heading suited me fine, but the little blighter below was so small it passed unnoticed: Star in your own Sequence! Anyhoo, I signed up and a few weeks later I had gotten through the interim stage with script presentation of a swashbuckling rescue scene. I was then invited to the studios where the reality show was to be staged, and that’s when the awful truth dawned! There was no going back: I’d signed a contract. I was there, and the programme due to start the next day. I was going to be a STAR's side-kick: gulp! Schedule: Day 1: meet the lead actor and go over the script. Easy peasy: or so I thought. To say I was tongue-tied would be understating the obvious. You know how it is when something delectable is put on the table in front of you and you can’t wrench your eyes away from it, and you start drooling (metaphorically). Well, I was drooling big time! How we got through the script, if we did, is still a blur. Bearing in mind this was a reality TV show, my real-time phone-in rating dived! It looked like I had to go some to get the public on my side, but there was always tomorrow Day 2: dress rehearsal and run through of scene takes. At some unearthly hour of the morning someone hammered on the door of my home from home, which I must say was a relatively luxurious tin box. Hence I turned over and buried my head in a pillow: the hammering by now, much louder. Jeez, what time did these people start work? The sun was barely showing its nose. I had ten minutes to get out on set according to voice ‘tother side of the door. Oh what? I closed my eyes and must have dozed off again. I woke to hammering on the door, and it resonated impatience, as did the voice: “Get out here, now”. Oh hell. I was late. I leapt out of bed and ran out on set.  Cheers erupted all around. I was popular, my real-time phone-in rating soared. I fled back inside to get dressed. Girls from the costume department, hair and makeup let themselves in to my tin box boudoir, and apparently the schedule had changed. The dress rehearsal of scene takes had been changed to live shoot. Going by the gown she had in her arms, I envisaged the scene to be the one where I would walk gracefully into a ballroom fan to face. How wrong could I have been? As soon as I stepped outside I just knew it was going to be one of those days, the sort of days an actor must dread. This was not the scene take I had anticipated. A mock-up Palace had been set ablaze, a black pall of smoke darkening the sky. Before I could make a run for it, the star rode on set looking like he’d been dragged through the ashes of a bonfire, so this was definitely the rescue scene. Oh well, at least I was destined for an up close and personal with SB. Hee hee.  SB reined in some distance away, and something about a chap holding a bucket of soot, and another bloke with bucket of something resembling ashes implied things were about to get messy for moi. How right I was, the contents of the buckets were showered over me! Then, some idiot with a massive fan (wind-maker) switched the damn thing on. The ordeal of being blasted was fleeting yet I felt I’d been to hell and back, and looked like I had, too. By the time I’d regained my breath, the action scene was underway and I still a tad dazed from experience with the wind-maker. Next thing I’m hoisted in the air by one of the bucket-men, slung across the saddle of SB’s horse, and his hand on my arse as we sped past the blazing palace. Scene shot over, the horse slowed to trot and thence to a halt and I slid off. I can tell you, once my feet hit solid ground I’d had it with this damn reality TV show. I walked away, thinking to hell with my real-time ratings, to hell with the chance of being a scriptwriter. I’m out of here, but . .. but something that happened in passing from saddle to ground left SB with a big grin on his face, and me a happy bunny, too. Needless to say I was voted off the show for walking off set; index finger solidly aimed at the director and the jerk who'd created the "make-a-fool out of wannabe scriptwriters". Sometimes nightmares can turn out better than reality, even if in the last few moments! To read entries by other participants go here.

One does not simply have a Man Candy Monday without Sean Bean. We’re sorry we’ve gone this long without him! Though we’ve celebrated his birthday on Facebook, it’s about tim…

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