Original subtitles

(Terri) Can I cancel the subscription?

Actually, he's dead. I've got to go.

Can I take it that it's cancelled? Thank you.

I'm the Minister for fucking Social Affairs. Hugh Abbot.

Could you explain to these people I'm the reason they're here?

(Terri) Sorry about that. (Hugh) Amazing place.

(Terri) Welcome back. (Hugh) Thank you.

It's ironic, we're both back on the same day.

Although your reasons for being away were more important than mine.

- Just a frivolous holiday. - No...

It was fantastic, though. You can't go wrong with Italy.

- But how are you? - Really upset and sad about it.

- That your father had died. - My father had died.

Anyway...erm...

- Shall we...? - We're upstairs.

..get a bit of a wiggle on. Yes.

So, this is like a sort of governing mall.

There's actually quite a few problems here.

- The e-mail system isn't working. - Oh.

- And the intelligent ventilation... - Intelligent ventilation?

What we've got is a wind tunnel up in the Asylum Directorate.

Don't let any of those out as Diary stories.

This is us.

Right. A bit too light and airy for my liking.

Ooh...and these are awful.

Do we have to have those? They look like Alicia's Barbie furniture.

- Do you think they match? - Not if you wear that dress.

One of them's going to have to go and I'd rather it was the sofas.

- Is this us? - Yes, this is actually you.

- (Glenn) Isn't that David Dickinson? - Ooh, nice tan!

I can't take all the credit, the sun did the work.

There's not much privacy.

It doesn't matter. We're moving upstairs.

It's going to be hard to shoot up in there.

Yeah, yeah, that's true.

This is so poky.

We're not here long enough for it to matter.

It might interest you.

The date for your appearance before the Education Select Committee.

- It's tomorrow. - Oh, great!

Oh, that is great. Yes, welcome home, Hugh.

Couldn't you have pushed it back?

Given me something cushy for my first week back?

A couple of lunches or a fact finder to Dublin?

That's the date they gave me.

You can't change Select Committee dates.

Oh, can't you? How did Liam get his changed

so he could go to the Test match?

It's going to be like sitting on a crate having chicken shit sprayed over me.

I mean, why do we want to close down schools for kids with special needs?

It's the one thing that I really, really, actually do not want to do.

And yet, bizarrely, I am the person most intimately involved in doing it.

Robyn, go and see IT about the e-mail problem.

Please. That'd be great.

So now Terri's back, I just get all the dull stuff. Is that right?

Pretty much, yes.

Oh, well, right. Yeah, well, of course.

Well, I'll see you later.

Glenn, the Special Needs Bill.

With your, you know, particular interest, I can't do this.

You know my views. Inclusion is an illusion. It doesn't work.

- But you don't mind if I go with it? - Of course not.

You know, look, you're only following orders.

So you won't make me feel bad

except by comparing me to a concentration camp guard?

Right.

Now, tomorrow. Select Committee, that's Ballentine, isn't it?

Who wants to go and watch bollockvision?

Bollockvision?

Mr Malcolm Tucker, turning it all the way up to eleven, down in the lobby.

- (Malcolm shouting) - (Hugh) Poor Keith!

You should have discussed it.

Malcolm must love this. Four ministers in one building.

It's his dream. A one-stop bollock-shop.

Trouble is, we're going to be getting some of that in about an hour.

Which is worse? Watching him rumble towards you like prostate cancer,

or him appearing suddenly out of nowhere, like a severe stroke.

Oh... How's your sister coping?

So, Hugh, this new word, "Citizenship".

Did the PM actually outline what it entails?

To be honest, I think he was making the reshuffle up as he went along.

We were lucky that citizenship was the first word that sprang to mind.

We could be in the Department for Social Affairs and Woodland Folk.

The problem is, though, Hugh,

that there's been a bit of a rush, with you not in place,

every department trying to unload all the stuff that they didn't want.

It's been like somebody driving a lorry down Whitehall,

shouting, "Bring out your shit", and it's ended up at our door.

What are we getting?

Citizenship basically involves cutting pensions to the Ghurkhas,

rejigging the protocols for a rabies outbreak,

some crap from Health about long-term care for the elderly,

that neither they nor we have any idea about.

And what to do with the Isle of Man.

Just what I fucking need. Five new ways to lose my job.

Where did that come from?

- Oh, Malcolm sent that. - It's far too big. Why did he send it?

Office warming present.

- So why did he send us a present? - I don't know.

- Has Security checked this? - What for? Tiny little terrorists?

- Yes. - It's a plant. Yes?

So...citizenshit.

What we need is some nice, touchy-feely,

fondley, sneaky, hand-in-the-bra policies.

New bicycles for special constables, that sort of thing?

Yeah.

Making special needs kids clean up graffiti.

That's just very mean.

Well, yes. Not, of course, as mean as making them spell graffiti.

That genuinely is mean.

- I'll go and have a word with Malcolm. - OK.

You just took a shit with your clothes on, Olly.

- Why? - Glenn's boy, Peter.

He went to a special needs school.

Oh.

Yep.

- Glenn's had sex. - God, you're such a prick, Olly.

There's more to life than drinks at the Foreign Office

and Nick Robinson's number on your Blackberry.

All right, fine. Sorry, Hugh.

I feel for the guy. I had a girlfriend with special needs once, so I know.

Luckily, I was able to fulfil them.

Oh, God, you're such a...

- Haircut? - Chemo. Nob.

- So, did you enjoy the show? - Magnificent.

Should I phone Keith, so I can get his team to watch you bollock me now?

No, no. Have I got my bollocking face on?

- Well... - No, this is my bollocking face.

Oh, crikey, yes. Thanks for the pot plant, by the way.

- Did I send that? - As an office warming present.

-Christ, she's a great PA, isn't she, Sam? -Yes.

She always remembers the little people.

Look at the size of that. You could crucify somebody on that.

So, what do you think of the new building, eh?

I can't wait to move upstairs, actually.

I don't like the glass walls on this floor.

I just feel a bit exposed.

Like a whore in a Reeperbahn window.

Glenn, it's Olly.

He wants you to go through and clarify the Citizenship brief.

- How much, love? - Sorry?

- OK, I'm on it. - I'll catch you later.

I like the tan, by the way. Have you declared it?

Staying at the villa of an influential friend.

I haven't got any influential friends.

- You are my only influential friend. - And I'm not your friend.

You're not my friend.

- So, this Super Schools Bill... - Yep.

You don't think it's so super, do you?

- You're doing it now. - What?

That's your bollocking face.

You know, it's great that you get all misty eyed over Glenn's kid.

But no one's trying to fuck over special needs kids.

R...Really?

Before I went away, I consulted an expert, Mark Ryan.

The LSE education guy? And what did that sandal-wearing nonce have to say?

Closing down special needs schools

and putting needy kids into mainstream education is a lousy idea.

I've got an expert who will deny that.

SEN parents want the schools kept open.

Yeah, well, my expert would totally oppose that.

Who is your expert?

No idea, but I can get one by this afternoon.

You have spoken to the wrong expert. You've got to ask the right expert.

You've got to know what an expert's going to advise before he advises.

Hugh, whether you like this or not, you are going to have to promote this Bill.

So what I'm going to do is, I'm going to get you another expert.

OK.

But surely, Mr Smedley,

inclusion has been shown to fail the most vulnerable SEN children.

When inclusion's done badly, yes. Yes, you get bad results. That's a given.

Inclusion is an illusion.

Mark Ryan from the LSE was saying that

when the special schools do get it right,

that the parents of SEN children absolutely fucking flock to...

- You spoke to Mark Ryan? - Yeah, well, some expert advice.

- Expert advice from Mark Ryan? - Yeah.

- You have a problem with Ryan?

- In educational circles, he's a joke.

- That's another given. - Is it?

- (E-mail alert) - Ah, sorry.

It's just that I'm expecting something quite important.

Is our e-mail up and running?

No. No, no, this is my hotmail.

Sorry, can you excuse me just erm...

(Smedley) We live in an inclusive society.

We all rub shoulders together, Mr Cullen?

Indeed.

Let's not let the Ryans of this world create...

- Sorry? - ..apartheid for children.

The alternative is to isolate these kids in ghetto schools.

The minister won't be a moment.

(Olly) Good spot for a suicide, I would think.

Good long drop, appreciative audience.

What if you just broke your back?

It'd leave you paralysed for life,

and you'd still be depressed about the thing that was depressing you.

- What are these hangy-down things? - (Olly) Acoustic baffles.

They stop it getting too echoey.

So when you break your back, nobody can hear you scream.

Well, that is the kind of attention to detail that you get in a PFI building.

Hey! Get back to work, all of you!

Right, I'm off to Number Ten for this Cabinet summit

with the PM and Education, try and swing this Bill around.

Now, if it drags on can you phone my home and tell Kate?

She doesn't watch rolling news because she's a normal human being.

(Parody accent) Yes, massah, I's a good slave!

- Can I say, that manner... - Something catastrophic has happened!

Whoa! What's going on?

I've just had a phone call from a man. He's got a child, he lives in Reigate.

This child, she is called Glenn, after Glenn Close, and her surname is Cullen.

She's Glenn Cullen. And this morning, apparently, in her in...

In the e-mail tray, she got a note,

and it used these words. "Christ",

and "cunt".

And apparently I sent it.

- No! - Anybody could use that computer.

- Hugh, Glenn says can you head over? - Yes, I must, I must...

Olly was using it. Olly was using it earlier.

Did you send an e-mail, Olly, about me, calling me a cunt?

No. No, I never use that word, let alone about you. No. Absolutely.

I won't use it until it's been fully normalised

and has no further association with the female twat.

- It was you! - We'll get to the bottom of this.

I've got to go off to Number Ten, but I absolutely give you my word.

Look.

Hugh...

No, I didn't get any e-mail about Roy Smedley. Was it funny?

Kind of. It was a bit sweary.

At least he's served his purpose.

We've now got some very useful material to trot out

in case My Bloody Ballentine wants to know

why you've done a U-turn in favour of inclusion.

But I haven't.

I'm going to take a fucking stand. I'm buggered if I let you down now.

I'm going to go in to the PM and tell him straight up, this bill is bollocks.

No, you're not.

No, I'm not, but it would be great if I did.

Another little bit of my soul chipped away.

Don't worry about it.

(Frantic stonewalling)

Hugh, the Guardianweb site has broken the e-mail thing.

In the final edition, here, of the Standard

I am suddenly a major news story.

Sweary Woman Of Whitehall.

Sweary Woman Of Whitehall. A pun.

It's not really punning on anything, is it?

How do you appear out of nowhere in a building made of glass?

I'm a shape shifter. I don't need this, get this fucking sorted.

What is wrong with you? Having a nervous breakdown?

Get on top of it, OK? You will see me again.

I don't want this, Hugh. I don't want to be the story.

The Sunare running a cartoon with you being arrested by a cuntstable.

- Olly, don't be such a bastard. - Hey, whoa, turd tonsils.

That's quite enough of that, Olly. Just knock it off, OK.

Terri, Terri, come with me. Come here.

Just fucking act your age. We've had enough of your puerile influence.

Actually, I think I might have an idea about...

Just...just tell me, truthfully,

did you send that e-mail?

No, I didn't.

And you know I didn't.

- What? I'm sorry? Are you inferring... - Implying.

- You're implying that...it was me? - Hmm.

(Whispering) I saw you, Hugh. I saw you do it.

(Floor creaking)

It...it was for Glenn, for our Glenn.

To amuse him when that prick man was in his office,

and I just typed in the wrong address.

It was a genuine mistake.

I didn't really see you. I was bluffing.

That doesn't bode well for your Select Committee performance.

I knew you were bluffing. I admitted it because it's the right thing to do.

Not because you'd caught me out. And I caught you out.

You lied about seeing me do it.

So, how do you like them apples?

Are you going to admit to this publicly?

What?

No! Are you mad? I can't do that. That mustn't happen. You've got...

- I need you to...to...to... - What? To lie?

It was Derrida who said there is no such thing as empirical truth.

I'll tell you what Derrida said. He said, "Go fuck your face, Abbot!"

You need to mind your language. It will keep getting you into trouble.

I can't even get out of the fucking room!

(Terri) Excuse me.

Now to the meat of the Committee's interest.

You've made quite a U-turn on SEN schools, have you not, Minister?

Why have you sold out?

Sold out? That's rather an emotive way of putting it.

But you are on record as having been in opposition

to the policy of inclusion.

No, it's just that times have changed and I have reassessed the landscape.

We now have the funding for academies

which will have two behaviour support teachers.

These Super Schools will offer skill clusters...

But we're not interested in that.

What the Committee are curious about is

how it is that you've changed your mind,

given your opposition to these policies in the past.

Did you seek specialist advice?

Well, naturally. I sought expert advice.

Yes. Who?

- Roy Smedley. - And?

And...he was very good.

And his was the only advice you took?

You saw only one expert?

Yes.

And you thought that was enough? Just one?

- I tried to find somebody different. - And did you succeed?

- No. - No one?

No.

How was that?

I lied to the Select Committee. I lied.

- Is Tucker in the building? - Malcolm In The Middle.

It's what they're calling him. He can stand in the atrium and shout.

I don't want to see him.

I can't take one of his scenes from The Exorcistjust now.

I don't think Ballentine's on to anything.

Oh, no?

Well, why did she keep asking, "Just one expert? Only one?

"Less than three, but not two?" Fucking bitch!

She's trying to throw you off balance, like a Sumo wrestler.

It worked. I was on the floor, in a fucking nappy.

Oh, shit, it's Malcolm.

- A man in his 50s, hiding. - Look, he's gone. Hugh, come out.

Get it in perspective. It's not a major lie.

It's not like you were selling naval secrets down a gay club.

Why does he never laugh with me like that?

(Olly) Lack of click?

I thought I was a professional press officer.

I don't know.

It just is absolute hell.

- Hi. - Oh, hello.

- How is the... - I'm actually in a bit of a state here.

Yeah.

Something cropped up that we need to talk about,

and then afterwards you can get on with whatever... You know.

Don't you think that I'm due a bit of support?

Yes, I do, I do. Absolutely.

But my Committee thing is actually a bigger deal than your...sweary thing.

So, you know...it just is.

- Hi, Malcolm. - Were you hiding just now?

No.

Terri, you're giving a press conference in 90 minutes.

You're going to apologise.

There's your statement. Learn it.

Erm...I organise the press conferences.

- I don't give them, normally. - Oh, God!

As you're not used to this, I'll go through it for you.

What happens is this. A bunch of press people appear.

They have things called cameras and microphones,

and mobile phones, hangovers and bad breath.

Then you are going to walk out and read from what we call a prepared statement.

In that, you will say,

"I'm really fucking sorry

"for sounding like a hairy arsed docker after 12 pints.

"I promise that I will never call an eight-year-old girl a cunt again.

"Can we now just draw a line over this and fucking move on? Thank you."

Everybody goes home and we see what happens.

The best case is you keep your job,

although you will be The Sweary Woman of Whitehall.

This first Mark Ryan meeting would be in the diary.

Do you want us to see if we could post that down the memory hole?

I mean, diaries do get lost, don't they?

Well, yes.

- We've lost a few diaries in our time. - Well, erm...

Listen, do it subtly. I don't want to know about it.

- I mean, do it, but don't tell me. - OK.

- Do I know? - Yeah. No. I don't know.

- Do I? - Don't... You sort it out.

Do I know?

Sort it out but don't tell me because I don't want to know.

I don't think you quite get it. My life is in tatters.

Nobody will speak to me at my daughter's school. Why should I lie for Hugh?

Because it's your job to make him look good.

What kind of a PR person are you, anyway?

I mean, look. Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Are you going to take a bad story and make it worse?

You say, "Oh, hi there, everyone.

"I know this looks bad, but wait till you hear this.

"It was actually the Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship

"who called a child a cunt.

"There you are, it is worse than we thought."

If you were to go out there and tell the truth,

it would be morally repugnant.

Because you would be condemning

a guy who's doing his fucking best to try and make things better.

You'd be condemning him to the scrapheap.

(Terri) Right... (Malcolm) OK?

- Yes. - Good girl. Get Robyn, she'll help you.

Robyn, can you help her go over her lines?

It was interesting, watching you talking about the truth,

because I had a similar problem today, funnily enough.

Really?

At the Committee, I didn't...

Well, unwittingly, I didn't tell the entire truth.

- You lied? To Claire Ballentine? - Yeah.

Does she know?

I don't think so. She couldn't possibly.

That doesn't matter, then.

I lied to the Select Committee. It's like lying to the House.

Yeah, I know. But if she doesn't know, then it doesn't matter, Hugh.

Excuse me, but I can't be fielding calls.

I have got a lot of lines to learn. It's Ballentine's office.

They want Departmental diaries from the last 12 weeks.

- Shit! - She's on to us, she must be.

- Why else... - Have you got the diaries?

Yes, in a sense.

Olly might be doing something with the diaries

I don't know about because he hasn't told me.

Well, you get him to undo what you don't know he's doing.

I can't. I don't know he's doing it.

Hugh, go and get Olly and Glenn in here.

This is serious. You have lied to a Select Committee.

- I told you that. - That's like lying to the House.

- That's what I said. - They're on to you!

Jesus Christ!

Malcolm, do you think this is too bright?

It's too bright.

Can you please, Robyn, go to the Sketchley concession

and get my grey suit? Now.

Do I look ten? Do I look like I'm on some bloody...

Please, just do it. Get the suit.

- Can I have the money? - Don't you get paid?

Have you got the diaries?

- Yes. - I don't know.

- We've not shredded anything. - I don't want to hear this.

Hugh, take your fingers out of your fucking ears.

You're going to go to the Committee tomorrow and you're going to apologise.

I'll tell them I forgot. Forgetting's an involuntary thing. It's like farting.

(Rapping on glass)

(Terri) Malcolm!

- What? - You were meant to be dealing with me.

The worst that can happen to you is you'll lose your job.

- I'm going to lose my reputation. - Grow up.

- You should be doing the growing up. - I am a fucking grown-up.

- You could have fooled me! - Glenn's son could have fooled you.

No offence, Glenn.

You two get the paper trail sorted and get your story sorted out.

I'm sorry, can you stop swearing?

I'm really sorry. You won't hear any more swearing from us,

you massive, gay shite!

Fuck off!

Right, how are you doing in sorting out whether he lied or not?

- Pretty well. - Is that a lie?

- Yeah. - That is not fucking funny, you retard.

I'm sorry about that, Glenn. The situation just...

Here she comes.

(Hugh) That fucking sofa!

I would like to offer my sincere and unreserved apologies

for the terrible outrage caused by the e-mail that I sent.

It was never meant to be read by anybody other than the intended recipient.

- I understand that the... - Oh, for...

- What the hell's he... - Twat!

..language I used in the e-mail...

He doesn't realise that if you walk in front of the camera...

..like that in an internal departmental conversation,

or any conversation.

I wish I had never sent the e-mail,

and indeed, I find it hard to believe that I did.

Whoa, she's gone off script here.

Fucking hell, Terri, what...?

..momentary lapse in restraint... and that...

- OK, we're back on track. - Thank God.

..and I wish to apologise that I've let down

the electorate, the minister, my colleagues,

my own family...

(Glenn) Even though half of them are dead.

..and indeed, the voters of the future...

- Our children. - ..our children.

Now get off.

Brilliant, Malcolm. Fucking stunning. Well done, mate.

OK, we've got to get upstairs

and start rehearsing for tomorrow's Select Committee.

I'm never going to get out of this fucking building, am I?

Do you remember when I came to see Peter's concert at his school?

His face? The pride he had when he played?

- His face etched in my memory. - Yeah?

Fucking unbearable.

That's why I needed Malcolm's expert to try and wipe it from my mind.

- It hasn't really worked, though. - Hugh, mate, don't panic.

You'll manage. Just do what you have to do. Whatever you have to do, do it.

Just make sure that you don't get sweat on your upper lip.

It makes you look guilty.

- What am I supposed to do? - I've no idea.

But if you sweat, it makes your face look like Spam.

It has come to the Committee's notice

that you did not see just one special adviser,

as you told us in your previous appearance, but two.

Why did you omit to mention that fact?

Yes, I apologise unreservedly for that oversight.

- I forgot. - Are you forgetful generally?

Well, it's hard to know... erm...how forgetful one is.

You'd have to remember all the things you'd remembered and forgotten.

And how could I remember what I've forgotten,

because I've forgotten it, by definition?

I'm pretty good. If I see a picture of the Queen, I can put a name to a face.

And if I see a movie, I don't sit there, going,

"Who's that one? The copper or the pirate?"

So you just accidentally told a slight untruth?

I... My statement was unintentionally not a truthful statement.

- I...I...I slightly misled... - You completely misled.

I misled the Committee and I have apologised for that.

Are you lying now about not lying before?

Erm...no. I am not a liar.

I categorically did not knowingly...not tell the truth.

Even though unknowingly I might not have done.

I wanted to come back and apologise to the Committee...

Glad to be of service, but you didn't want to come back, Minister.

You were told to come back.

The last thing in the world you wanted was to come back,

given how busy you have been.

Interestingly enough, we do notice from your diaries

that your meeting with Roy Smedley

seems to have taken place at almost the same time

as the notorious sweary e-mail was sent.

I was in that meeting, so I couldn't possibly have sent it.

I wasn't suggesting... It was your Chief Press Officer.

Yes, it was. And her father's just died.

I'm sorry to hear that. No one was suggesting...

No, no, and quite right, too. But you know what people are like.

Going back to my, erm...initial concern, it would now seem that

the two meetings you had with the two special education advisers

provided you with two opposing verdicts on this particular issue.

Yet you came up with one.

So would it be therefore true to say that the Government

is intent on pushing this through regardless of what anyone says?

No. We wanted two opinions because we wanted to start a debate.

Not much of a debate if you ignore one and just go with the other.

It's a personal thing, but if government isn't personal,

then what the hell is it?

My senior adviser, Glenn Cullen,

has a son, his name is Peter,

and he has special educational needs.

Glenn obviously wouldn't say anything about it.

He's far too professional.

But I had the privilege of going down with Glenn to Peter's SEN school,

and watched Peter playing the trombone in the school orchestra.

It wasn't very good.

Erm... He struggled manfully.

And Glenn leaned over to me, and he said,

you know, "If only this was a Super School."

Inclusion is not an illusion.

And...

I think that tipped the balance for me.

It's a personal thing.

(Glenn exhaling)

- Say something. - Well, what is to say?

I can't believe you did that.

You said do what you have to do.

I understand that, and I know nothing is sacred.

- But I didn't mean for you to do that. - Were you misleading me?

- Don't give me that bollocks. - I...I'm sorry. OK? I'm really sorry.

Do you know, I wish I'd kept Peter's trombone.

If I had, I'd shove it up your arse, wide end first.

Listen, you're the best senior adviser anybody could want, and...

Come on, you're my best pal.

- OK. - So, am I...?

(Hugh) Hello. Are you all right?

Very strong performance, by the way, the apology.

So you think you can get round me with compliments, do you?

I understand I'm not your favourite chocolate in the box,

but I appreciate everything, and I will fight for you,

irrespective of what you did.

What I did? I didn't do it, Hugh! Do you remember, you sent the e-mail!

- I forgot. - Forgot?

No, not forgot.

I can't get anything right at the moment. I'm going to go away.

Go to the gents. Look at the man standing in front of you in the mirror,

and say, "Can I live with him? Can I?"

- You're in there. - I don't know what else can go wrong.

Unless the energy system sets fire to my office and puts it out

by squirting liquefied shit through the sprinklers.

- Malcolm's coming this way. - Oh, God.

Check out. Malcolm Tucker is leaving the building.

Oh, right.

I want to say well done, you slippery fuck.

You should be able to weasel your way out

and come back smelling like a perfumed trollop.

- Thank you. - No problem.

Hey, I'm going to have a swear box installed on Monday, by the way.

- What? - Fucking joking, you twat.

Right.

- I'm in turbo. Laters. - Yeah.

(Malcolm) Oi! How're you doing?

(Heavy sigh)

- Good night. - Good night.