All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S04E02.DVDRip.XviD-HAGGiS.en

As we enter the third week,

I find Mr Tickle's attention-seeking,
tent-based twattery

even more annoying than
in weeks one and two.

We haven't made him,
we just sold his house.

What do you put into
the Networked Nation? Well...

I am... a minister.

Look at this, no missed calls.

I used to have missed calls piling
up like fucking pizza leaflets.

I suppose it means everything's
fine. How was your evening?

Really nice.

We managed to get
a table at Mishkin's. Oh.

And you? Ah, a bit of a quiet one.

Just a bottle of pinot and
Twitter-abusing the cast of Glee.

Was kind of wonderful
in its own way.

Malcolm, can I have
a couple of words?

Political lightweight?
Making up the numbers?

Sorry, that's four, isn't it? Lovely,
lovely, yeah, you still got it(!)

But, erm, seriously,
can I just, er...

'Don't take too wide a step.'
'Start with the right.'

'Yes. OK, so relax.'

Cenotaph, here.

Right. OK? Off you go.

Yeah, I think that's too slow.

A minute ago you said
I was too fast.

You look like Sleeping Beauty,
that's just weird.

You look like you've been dug up. OK.

Do you remember when
you got married?

I'd rather fucking not.
OK, Nicola...

Olly, shit! I had it then.

Right, sorry to interrupt
you at this very sad time,

er, but we do have Prime Minister's
Questions in one hour.

No, it's fine, I've got the lead
question,

I've got the follow up
sarcastic question

and I've got the withering put down,
so I'm prepped, I'm fucking prepped.

Yep, you'll walk rings round him(!)

Erm, this does seem to be taking
an awfully long time.

Is that too bouncy?
What do you mean "bouncy"?

Cos that's helping with my balance
but if it looks... Bouncy?!

It is too bouncy. Well, that's...
You've over exaggerated now.

It's like you've got rickets.

You don't want to be going along
going, "Oh, that reminds..."

Is that what you do when
you're remembering?

I think I've got it, I've got it.
Right, let's see. Look, watch.

I'm starting with my left foot
but never mind that.

Now my shoe's coming off.

The leader of the opposition
is in that room, Malcolm,

practising walking.

I mean, baby horses can
walk from the womb.

She's one-nil down to a pony!

A pony isn't a baby horse, it's a
foal, a fucking foal is a baby horse.

Right, our guest tonight on I Don't
Give A Fuck About Baby Horses is me.

We need to do something
about Nicola.

I mean, you know about her plan?
I mean, Nicola with a plan?!

That's like a... toddler
with a harpoon.

There's a toddler wandering around
in that office with a harpoon.

Yes, well, don't you worry about
Nicola's plan...

I'll deal with that Sweaty Betty.

Listen, when you wake up in the morning,
you've got a routine, haven't you?

Big shit, granola, check the e-mail,
shower and a shave, Nespresso...

sometimes a second shit.

Exactly, you have a plan,
that's good.

Nicola has a plan, that's not good...

but I have a plan that's
fucking great.

And then I bow?

It's more of a nod, anyway.

Yeah, it's, sort of, "All right,
dead-oes?", but a bit more solemn.

Remember to put the wreath
down this time.

I didn't actually not put it...

It got caught in my glove,
I told you.

Oh, that's very moving,
"They shall not grow old,"

"who photocopy their arses
at the Christmas do."

Look, I don't want
to show myself up

in front of 5,000 uniformed
pensioners again.

I'm glad you're thinking
about those pensioners

cos those are the poor fuckers
who gave everything

so people like you could play
at running the country. Oh nice.

Olly, walk with me.

Er, forwards or backwards?

Malcolm!

You'd get a much better response
from her if you didn't bully her.

Sweetheart, she should
be doing the bullying.

She should be taking the PM's lunch money
and using his arse as a fruit machine,

not practising throwing a straw
frisbee in slow motion!

I don't think you got enough
cuddles as a child.

So how do we engage with
this demographic?

The first thing is, is first of all,
knowing who we're talking about,

then finding a name for them.

People who would do something
for nothing.

They are mugs.
Mugs do something for nothing.

Erm, how about,
"deserving work force"?

Why are you laughing,
does it sound a bit Pravda-ish?

What, handbags?

Pravda! Soviet newspaper.

This is the sort of person,
they find an umbrella on a bus,

they go all the way to the depot
just to give it back.

They're commuters,
they are the street pounders,

street walkers, er...

You can't call them
"street walkers"!

They're the people who deal
with the little stuff, erm...

Wombles. Honest Wombles.
Everyday Wombles...?

Sorry, I've just got to take a call.
Erm, straights?

No. No? No, of course, sorry.

Commuting Champions?

Inter-rail... Human inter-railers...

"Human inter-railers"?
That's inter-railers.

Er, everyday superstars...

All-British supremes...

Fuck, that sounds like
a racist tribute band.

Ordinary people with,
with something special about them,

with a special power.
Please, don't say "special".

Don't say special. No, but, you
know, like, people as superheroes.

Iron people, spider people...
They're just regular citizens

but they have this,
that one special quality

that makes them like Batman or
Batpeople. Erm, the quiet...

Batpeople.

Quiet Batpeople?

No, that's not it.

That's the general area we're
looking at, is what I'm saying.

It's just a marker.

Yep, shall we wrap it up
and make a move? Shad Cab?

Yes. Don't, don't say "Shad Cab".

Don't... Why not?
Cos it's Shadow Cabinet, isn't it?

It's like saying spag bol.

Fuck annoy!

All very worthwhile. What a session.
"Quiet Batpeople"?

What's she doing, is she fucking
sniffing the pens at night?

This is every day.

This is what we do every day,
scat all day.

Jizz FM! Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!

What's going on in that abandoned
barn of a brain of hers?

This is, this can't go on -
this is fucking suicide.

Malcolm, I know, I know, I know.

I mean, Nicola...

she's a nice lady - especially
when she's drunk. Yes!

Karaoke, you can't take her karaoke
off her. Fucking wish I could!

She's going to have
to fall on her sword.

Which means that we have to stick
one in the ground, trip her onto it,

get someone to jump up and down
on her back for ten minutes!

Nothing personal. Nothing personal,
of course not! Of course not.

So, Ben tells me you have a plan.

Anything I should be worrying about?

You're not going to found
a religion, are you?

Reshuffle? Don't send Ben
to the backbench

cos he'll just wank
and eat Pringles.

Leather seats are an invitation
to him. Morning.

You'll never get in. Ha-ha!

Cock!

New party logo - a kitten.

A kitten in a sock. Kitten in a sock,
sitting on a motorway, shouting,

"Help me, I don't know what to do!"
Getting close?

All right, look, I just think we
need to show,

we need to be seen to accept

that there are tough
decisions to be made.

So, I thought it would be a good
idea if we publicly agreed

with two government policies
that we previously opposed.

That's all.

Can we talk about this?
Yes absolutely, Malcolm.

We'll, we'll talk about this
in Cabinet, OK?

I'll be talking, you'll be nodding.

I'm struggling here, you want us
to agree with the government?

Not on everything, obviously.

No, we're just going to back
two government policies...

the coastguard pay freeze

and the end of ring-fenced funding
for primary school breakfast clubs.

So, what?

We're now in favour of drowning
sailors and starving children?

We are, technically, the opposition. Can
I be devil's advocate here for a moment?

Nicola's right, of course,
she's right,

but we should at least think
about what Dan has to say here

because we've already seen
one set of quisling wankers

cross the floor
and join JB's barmy army.

If the opposition now join them

everyone will just be facing
half an empty fucking chamber.

Yeah, it's important that we rise
above partisan politics, Dan...

so that, Dan, so that we can
take our poll ratings with us.

Malcolm? Malcolm...

Sorry.

Could you not, talk behind
my back? Thank you. Sorry.

Now, you know, if you don't think
that message is clear,

then that's fine
but it is your job to clarify it.

Fine. Good. OK, great.

Before we finish,

I just want to throw one more
pebble into the thought pool.

Ploop. Sorry, Ben, I missed that.

Just, sorry, I said "ploop".

It's just the noise of a pebble
being dropped.

Er, we're still having
a bit of trouble

connecting with the,
the ordinary voter.

The, erm, the silent majority.

Erm, Malcolm, can you talk us
through our session this morning?

Well, for the record, I do think
that this is a good idea.

Do you mind if I...? Helen, can
I borrow your notes a second...

Oh, I should say, actually,
none of this is set in stone.

You know, they're, they're
not even set in Plasticine!

So, the marker for this target
demographic is Quiet Batpeople.

As I say... "Quiet Batpeople"?!

Quiet Batpeople,
it's everyday superheroes.

There's a big tick next to that here.
Everyday heroes like...

like vigilantes?

It's ordinary people,
not vigilantes.

Don't worry your pretty
little head about it.

"Little" being the operative word,
"pretty" not.

Helen's written here, "Normality
as a kind of superpower."

OK, I'm sensing, er, opposition.

Good, cos earlier you were talking about
getting rid of that(?)

So, I would like everybody
to take the idea away

and just let it percolate.

OK, good, er...

Oh, poppies!

Last thing, can we just make
absolutely sure

we have them on at all times.

Jackets, coats...

Or batsuits.

Wear your poppies or
you will be shot at dawn!

(Thank you.)

Yes, thank you(!)

Well, I had more fun
at my last mammogram!

Oh, no, you were fine.

Well, maybe... You fox-faced fuck!

Dan The-demi-man Miller,
interview with The New Statesman...

he says that he,
"pledges himself to change the fractured"

"and shaky narrative
at the heart of the party."

Arse! Well, I'm pledging myself
to find Dan Mr Smoothie Miller

and fracture and shake him into
an actual fucking smoothie.

Looks like a fun runner's
lost his way.

Why are there bits of food
wandering about?

Are you for the chop?
It's a fucking hack pack.

Any comment on Dan Miller's article?
No comment, be gracious,

smile, look good. No questions.

Are you for the chop, Mrs Murray?
Oh, it's a chop!

Oh, it's that dick from The Mirror
who... Are you top of the chops?

Ha-ha-ha, very funny. Thank you.

You, fuck off!
Get back to the fucking Flintstones.

Turn up like that again I'll fucking
stick that down your throat

and pull it out your arse.

That's enough. I don't even do things
I enjoy for that long! That's it!

No questions, Nicola's got
a government to bring down.

No comment, no comment,
thanks very much.

Why did we have to stand
there smiling like that?

You think it'd be better if you
were seen in tears?

I just think my face next
to a chop does not look good

unless I'm applying for
a job in Asda!

Why pictures of her coming
from Shadow Cabinet?

Maybe they don't want pictures
of her, maybe they want you.

Maybe they want pictures of
an over-botoxed Nancy Dell'Olio?

Right, the first chance you get just
go and deal with Dan.

Tear him a new bum or whatever
it is people say.

Right, right, right, right, right.

I mean, what would possess you
to walk about the streets

with notes just... there
for anybody to see?

They're my notes but they're
your shit suggestions.

Well, I'm not the one flapping them
about in such a way

that the press can take pictures
of them! How was I to know?

They were taking a photo of
Nicola... Cos you're an adult...

"Quite Batpeople" on every
fucking paper!

Right, this is a wake-up call.

By the way, the next time you want
to make Nicola look like a clown,

with her fucking hair on fire,

why don't you just take your notes
down to Snappy Snaps

and get them blown up
to gigantic cheque size

so the partially sighted
can be in on the fucking gag?!

I didn't know they'd
be able to see it!

So we have to seize the agenda,

we have to deflect attention
away from all this.

It's now time to embrace
our friend Mr Tickle.

I can't say his name
without smiling.

Well, he's not smiling, is he?

He's living in a tent cos his
key worker housing was sold off.

Yes and he's a 24 carat
fucking nutcase.

Which means that Peter Mannion

has been picking on a man with
a history of depression.

That's a way right into the
principality of pricks, right there.

Yeah, and that's exactly what
they will expect me to do.

They'll know about his mental
health records as well.

They'll just be waiting for me to attack
and I'm not going to

and that will surprise them.

I think that you and I need
to have a little talk.

A proper talk.

Like when mummy explains why daddy's
going to be in the papers tomorrow.

Out. You mean you'd like us to go?

Yes, into exile, preferably.
Bhutan's nice.

I need to know that you're really
on top of things, actually, Malcolm.

I do my fucking job!

Well, do you do your fucking job
out of a sense of obligation

or are you doing it because you
actually believe in me?

Oh, let me boomer-fucking-rang that one
right back at you, do you believe in you?

Cos I can't see any fucking
fire in your eyes.

I can't even see the clicking
of the, of the pilot light

to try and get a tiny,
little flame going.

What I do see is that you
might at any day decide,

"Oh, I've fucking had enough," and go
off and get a blanket from the car.

I slightly resent what
you're saying.

The fact of the matter is, I do not
believe in my heart of hearts...

that you're hungry for power.

You've got no idea how hungry
for power I am.

You have to really fucking want to do
this. This is what I'm telling you!

I fucking want this...
Shit, people can hear me.

I am hungry for this, yes!

Well, you've got to be as hungry
as a fucking Hutu

in the fucking jungle
with a big machete.

You've got to go hacking through
the fucking opposition

with a big fucking belt full of hands
and a necklace made of ears.

Can you do that?

Yes. Can you wear a necklace
made of ears?

I can be a Hutu...

I can wear fucking fingernail
bracelets, I can...

do this, Malcolm, yes.

That's what we need to see.

Yeah, I promise you, I can deliver.

I can see that.

She's got Bette Davis eyes.

You're going to do this.
Brilliant, thank you, Malcolm.

Fucking useless.

She is unstoppable and she loves you.

Because a wine tasting is not a night
out, it's an admission of defeat.

You might as well go to...

Er, Jo, I'll call you back.

Hiya, I thought you were
bollocking Dan Miller?

Oh, I am.

Right, is he...?

I'm in the middle of slamming
his smug face

into a verbal deep fat fryer.

You know Dan, of course, don't you?
Why don't you sit down and join us?

Er... Join us!

I don't know if you've met
Mrs Susan Doherty?

Mrs Doherty is a quiet fucking batperson,
or a fucking motorway mingebag,

or whatever the fuck we're calling
these fickle shits this week.

I'm going to get a coffee,
do you want anything?

I'll have a fucking Fanta. OK.

You know what I think
I did wrong last year?

I think I set off on the wrong foot

because I actually have a bit
of a problem with left and right.

It's like directional dyslexia
or dyspedia, dys...

It's one of the dys...
Oh, I'm doing it now.

For goodness sake.
Oh, is this more quiet bat guano?

This Week would like
to photograph politicians

wearing underpants
over their clothes.

And Grazia would like to know

what you carry in your
utility belt and why?

I'll say you're not interested.
I'm fucking not interested.

I'm only interested in working out
which of my feet is which.

So we need to be rid of Nicola.

Rid of her? She's tank.

She's fucking electoral asbestos.
Wow, so... you, you want to...?

I want this party back in power
where we can help people.

I don't know whether you've noticed
but we haven't got any fucking power.

We can't help anyone.
We're like a family in a Cuban slum.

We're out in the middle of nowhere. We're
in the fucking... middle of the ocean,

with our own Ellen MacArthur
sobbing, crying - enough.

Over the side she goes.

She's going to sleep with the fishes.

Or at least witter on at them
until they

fucking lose the will to live.
So, do you...?

(Do you have a plan?)

Optimum time for her to step down
is eight months from now.

Over that period she has
to be very gently dislodged...

like a tick from a cat's ear.

You set up that batpeople photo!

Olly, I'm shocked at you
suggesting that.

Jiminy Fuckmas, Malcolm!
I don't know about any of this.

It's time for you to step up, Olly.
What's that film that you love?

What film? The one about
the fucking hairdresser,

the space hairdresser and the cowboy.

The guy, he's got a tinfoil pal
and a pedal bin.

His father's a robot and he's fucking
fucked his sister.

LEGO, they're all made
of fucking Lego.

Star Wars. That's the one, right.

It's like that, OK? You want
to fucking kill the bad guys.

And you'll be able to blow up
the big... The Death Star.

The Death Star thing.

Then you can go and live
happily ever after

on the planet of the teddy bears.
They're Ewoks, Ewoks.

It's a fantastic analogy, well done.

Are you, are you absolutely
sure about this, Malcolm?

Well, not really, no...

but it's worth a punt, isn't it?

Good. Life is interesting at last...

I've been so fucking bored
for the last two years.

Bonnie Langford's paying.

It's a good speech, I think.
Does it need a bit of a...? Rethink.

I was going to say trim.

Are you going to address the
batpeople thing in the speech?

No, I might walk on stage
to the theme tune!

Just make sure you're not
wearing anything

that can be photographed
like a cape.

Oh, Malcolm, did you see Dan?

I saw him and I fucking
eviscerated him.

What did you say?

He crumpled like a crisp
packet on a cooker.

He's now just a small pool of grease
and regret, isn't he?

Yeah, yeah, you can only see him
under UV lights now.

How do you know? Were you there?

Yeah, yeah. Malcolm flayed
his skin off,

he's going to use it as his onesie.
That's him just coming in.

Don't say anything.

Don't humiliate him any further -
that's my fucking job.

Give us your dinner money! I haven't got
dinner money, I bring a packed lunch.

Fuck that. I don't want one of your
home-made fucking feta parcels.

I presume you need to bollock
me for my disloyalty

in doing that New Statesman thing,
so why don't we... I already have.

This morning - were you not there?
Can't say I recall it.

Would it be cheeky if I invited
you onto the veranda?

I've got a little matter I'd like
to discuss with you.

We're lovers, deal with it.

I suppose the key question is,

is Dan Miller going to pull
the same stunt again?

Well, I mean, I think, after what
he's just been through with Malcolm,

Dan's crushed! He's just in the
shower crying, with his clothes on!

Dan? Dan Miller? Yeah, Malcolm
gave him a right old... K'cher!

He gave him a cash register?

No, that was me cracking
a whip, plainly!

Well, shame I missed that,
where was, er, where was this?

It was in the back stairwell.

That's right by my office.
I'm surprised I didn't hear that.

I mean, I can hear fat Pat's farts
bouncing off the walls

when she has to take the stairs
if the lift's bust.

Well, it was, sort of, you know,
he did it in a lower tone.

Special, kind of, terrifying...
He calls it, erm, whisper boarding.

It's not a healthy sign when
the deputy attacks the leader

but maybe we should embrace
this point of no return.

Are you saying you agree
with what I wrote?

I'm saying that I spoke
to Nicola earlier,

to gauge the fire in her belly,

and now I'm standing
in a cupboard with you.

What's the worst thing that he said?

Oh, well, he said, er,
"Fuck right off, you fucker!"

Really? Well, I once
used the last tea bag

and Malcolm pushed me up against a wall and
called me Noncey Sinatra - that seems tame.

Well, like I say, it was, it was,
it was mainly in the tone, Ben.

I didn't hold the door open for him
and he called me a minge mop.

Yeah, but he likes Dan.

Ooh!

Did you need me?

Nope, nope.

So, your loyalty to Nicola is...?

Unwavering.

Right up to the point that...

Someone challenges her?

Not necessary, she's going
to kick her own head in,

which will be easy for her
because she does yoga.

We just need someone
to hold her jacket

while she commits political hara-kiri

and sweep in unopposed...

being careful not to tread
in the mess.

So, you think...

I should challenge her?
What the fuck is this?

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Cunt?!

Do you or do you not want
to be the next leader of this party?

Yes.

Well, she needs to fuck off
in eight months,

so it looks like we're
giving her a chance.

I will teach you the way of tears
and love, my friend.

Now let's get out of this
fucking cupboard

before Ben Swain comes
in for his lunchtime wank.

And I agree that we no longer
have the luxury,

the privilege of thinking
in the abstract about politics.

How's Martina Luther King doing?

It's like that old show Faking It.

She's a shit politician
pretending to be a,

pretending to be, er,
a mediocre one.

What's that text? It's not a text.

Show me the text. It's telling me to
tell you to mind your own business.

Show me the text! No, no, get off.

Show me. No, get off, it's a girl
sexting me, Malcolm.

Practising for Strictly.
Get off my fucking...

Give me my fucking...

What is this tiny font?

Is it to match your
subatomic thoughts?

Give me my phone, Malcolm.

"As I thought, we're dropping BC,"
what does that mean?

That's my friend who works
in education.

The government are dropping
the reforms

to the primary school
breakfast club policy.

OK, let's rewind here
a bit, stick man.

Nicola is about to adopt
a policy that is so toxic

that this stony-hearted government of
fucking puppy killers is dropping it?

Yeah. Shit in my porridge.

Get a dart gun and go
and fucking kill her.

No, no, think about it.
This is exactly what we want, right?

No, think about it, this isn't what
we want. This is too soon.

The mechanics of the leadership
election are not in place.

Right, we've got to get
her off that stage.

Go and piss in a fuse box,
or finger a security guard.

I'll bundle her out during the melee.
We need to stop Nicola announcing.

Rumour has it that
the government is going to

- drop the breakfast club policy.
- Oh, shit!

But just a rumour, yeah?

Yes, I'm just getting it
You need to signal her to stop.

You've got a signal? Er...
We never agreed on one.

You don't have a fucking signal?
You must, from Hampstead Heath?

Didn't Nicola mention
something about iceberg?

As in you're going to crash into an
iceberg. OK, how do I do that?

That's subtle(!) Get in, whatever
it is. I'll do a triangle.

In times of deep crisis, tribal
politics can act as a break upon it.

And it's down... to us to rise
above this and think...

What is that? Breached birth?
It's a fucking iceberg.

Upside down uterus. Shut up, Olly!

..that we're endorsing fully
and unreservedly

a pay freeze for the coastguard.

And an end
to the ring-fencing of funds

to provide primary school
breakfast clubs.

We are in concurrence with
the government

because we are in unity with
the British people.

Any questions?

Mrs Murray, did you know that
the government have just announced

that they are dropping the reform
on primary school breakfast clubs?

(Pretend you heard
another question.)

Er, yes, yes, we, er, yes.

Breakfast, er, really is a...

really is a meal for the whole
family, er, and, er...

I think that we regard that as...

You've got some nice fake concern
going on there, Malcolm.

I'm sorry?

Undermining Nicola.
You're getting off on this.

You've got some sort of agenda.

Don't you dare question my loyalty
to my leader or my party ever again.

And don't flatter yourself
into thinking that

you can divine my motives or actions.

You are a mouse in a maze.

..now that's not to say that
if you don't have a family you,

you can't enjoy breakfast.

Plainly, you can and you should

because, erm, because it is the most
important meal of the day,

especially if you've been
fasting during Eid.

I'm dead, aren't I?
Why didn't you stop me?!

I tried to warn you.

Oh, with the triangle thing.
W.T.Fuck was that?

Iceberg. Not to scale, obviously.

The iceberg you were heading
for was much, much bigger than that.

Do you know what I thought it was?
Hash brown.

You see a triangle and the first thing that
comes to your mind is hash brown? No...!

Bye-bye. Thank you.

Not the first thing, the first thing
I thought was pyramid.

Pyramid, the signal being...?
Being everything's fine.

You know, everybody likes pyramids.

Do we know why
the fuckers dropped it?

Even the Etonian mess over at number
ten has to acknowledge

that people hate the policy.

It's taking food
out of children's mouths.

It is kind of the opposite
of Comic Relief.

Well, then you should
have stopped me!

You could have created a diversion...

you could have gone in there
and set yourself on fire

or got your tits out and shouted,
"Oh, there's a big lion!",

I don't know.

Just something, just anything

rather than leave me in there
committing career suicide

by starving small children.

And you, Malcolm,
the one time in my life

I would've been actually pleased
to see you. Where the fuck were you?

Sorry. Can you U-turn maybe?

No, that was a U-turn - if I do
another U-turn it's an O-turn.

Am I dead? No. No, no.

Cos I feel like I'm dead.

I feel like on Sunday I should just
put the poppy wreath round my neck

and take 40 paracetamol.
No, don't worry.

Look, we're all still Team Nicola.
We'll fight for you, won't we?

Can somebody get
me a coffee, please? God, yeah.

Hold the wreath in your
right hand...

It's going to be heavier, isn't it? It's a
practise wreath, I haven't weighed them.

Down, two... three, frown,
two... three,

up and walk backwards.

Just copy the Queen, if in doubt.

That's going to have to do.

Good luck! Just, you know, knock 'em
dead in a silent respectful manner!

Yeah. Phone off.

Ho-ho! Helen given you
the wreath lecture?

Oh, come on, Nicola,
you'll be absolutely fine.

I couldn't eat breakfast.

I felt like I'd personally
ripped it out of the hands

of some malnourished infant.
Stop it. Stop it.

The first rule of breakfast club
is we do not talk about it.

That's it for now.

It's not just that,
my head's full of bat.

Because of the hat?

What? No because of the...
Does this look like a bat?! No!

I was going to say
it doesn't look like a...

It looks, it's more Mickey Mouse,
isn't it? The hat?

Or Minnie Mouse,
it's Minnie Mouse. Not bat.

Fuck off, Olly. OK.

Just wreath up that bad boy!
OK. Yeah.

'Oh, and the DPM is up next.'

Firm grasp on the wreath, there.

He's aiming for the steps.

Top step! And that is...

magic poppies.

Oh, here we go.

She's flustered, isn't she?

That's the problem. She'll be fine.

Oh, my God.

Bollocking poppy wank!

Why is she hovering in the middle?!

You're right, she can't fucking walk.

I mean, shall we get a pony

to challenge her?

It's not a fucking pony,
it's a fucking foal.

Sorry.

I don't understand how

- you can get that wrong.
- It's this! Da, da, clonk!

She is officially a ceno-twat.

Fabulous work. Let's just,
er... bury her in a grave...

The Unknown Leader.

I can't watch. I feel a bit sick.

I just hope there is no afterlife

because if people fought

and died for this.

It is going to seem even more
ridiculously futile.

Why do you know so much
about horses anyway?

'I thought you were raised
by wolves.'

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd.
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First thoughts?
We're policy jamming here.

Yes and ho.

Let's Macintyre this. Stand up.

I feel like I've joined
the Scientologists.

Do you want to have an idea-gasm?
Yes, please.

She's some kind of economist.

I think we're looking
at about two billion.

I quite like Emily Maitlis.

I'm sure she'd love a grey pounding.

Is this what we came
into politics for?

Yep. That and the pussy.