Original subtitles

Ed! Get Tom Rudd in. Now.

We're offering him Northern Ireland, the lucky sod.

I think he's expecting to be offered Transport.

Well, tell him he's taking the bus to George Best airport, right?

He's making Paul Remington a cabinet minister.

Remtard Remington. I mean, the guy is an epic fuck-up.

He's so dense that light bends around him.

(CLAPS) Come on, people! Let's get going here.

I've got a to-do list here

that's longer than a fucking Leonard Cohen song.

-Remtard at Energy and Climate Change. -Really? I'm not getting that.

It's not on here. How did you get that about Remington?

Refresh the page.

Yeah. Ah, yeah. Oh, look!

Fatty's staying put. They're not moving Fatty!

Yeah, well, that's because they haven't got five big blokes and a winch.

They couldn't really demote Fatty 'cause he knows too much.

He doesn't know where the Ryvita's kept, does he?

I've got this reshuffle going on,

the Leamington Spa by-election coming up...

I've got more on my plate than a spinster at a wedding.

That wasn't a reference to your daughter, by the way, Andrew.

Well. That's Hugh gone, then.

-That's so sad, isn't it? Hugh. -GLENN: Yeah.

You don't give a shit.

No, well, perhaps I don't.

Northern Ireland office, Tom Rudd. Who's Tom Rudd? Tom Rudd?

Isn't he in Harry Potter?

Tom Rudd is army slang

-for standing-up buggery. -OLLY: Right.

Doug, Doug, Dougie! Look at you,

cock the size of the Pink Panther's tail.

Come have a Kit Kat.

Uh, I'm afraid I've turned it down, Malcolm.

You know that 90% of household dust is made of dead human skin?

That's what you are. To me.

Doug Hayes is a massive abortion. Again, not a reference to your daughter.

We need somebody to plug this DoSAC hole. Anybody.

A fucking mammal with a head.

Have you two finished emptying your desks yet?

Yes, don't worry, Terri, we're all ready to go.

I'm just trying to get everything organised for whenever whoever arrives.

They are going to have their own people.

It's going to be very embarrassing if your hand cream's still in the drawer.

-Hand cream? -Yeah, well, whatever men have.

I don't know, electric nose-hair trimmers, Ex-Lax...

Aww, look at Glenn. Your face...

On the scrapheap at the tender age of 76?

It's no life for you, is it, Glenn, this?

Hey, do you want me to call Dignitas?

I could call Indignitas.

They could come round and shove you out of the window dressed as a clown.

Sam, Sam...

Get me Nicola Murray. Yeah.

If she says no, well, I don't know, the only other candidate

is my left bollock with a fucking smiley face drawn on it.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Secretary of State...

-Hello. -...for the Department of Social Affairs

-and Citizenship, Nicola Murray. -NICOLA: Thank you.

(CLAPPING)

I'm Nicola. Lovely to meet you.

-Hello. Lovely to meet you. -Hello, hi.

-Hello, I'm Glenn Cullen. -Hello Ken. How lovely to meet you.

These are just Hugh's, um,

-previous incumbents. -Oh, okay.

-So, that's Ken and Olly? -No, Glenn.

-Olly Reeder. -Right. Are you an Olly or an Oliver?

I'm whichever you prefer, in fact.

Okay, well, Oliver. I like the name Oliver.

Well, Olly. I don't know...

-Oh, you are an Olly. -I don't know why I said that.

-Thank you. -Good.

-I'm the ideas man. -(MOBILE RINGING)

Sorry. I've got to... Thank you. Just need one second.

-Um... -Yes, I know.

They just... They frog-marched me into it.

I didn't know. I had no idea.

James, be fair! I left seven fucking messages for you.

Your secretary or whoever is useless.

I don't think the school thing is going to be a problem.

It's not going to be a problem 'cause they'll have vetted me at Number 10.

And obviously nobody has soiled themselves or shot me.

Great, well, I take your warm congratulations as implied.

(SOFTLY) Fucking arsehole.

-You all right? -Yes, it's all a bit crazy.

No, it just feels like my head's made entirely of smoke alarms

at the moment, it's all a bit...

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Yes, well, it was a bit of a shock for us all, you know.

-I'm sure. -In a good way, in a good way.

-Good. -Well, like twins or a tax rebate or...

Yes, let me continue with the tour.

-That's such a nice chair. -This was Glenn's office.

Is there any chance of getting something like that?

TERRI: Would you like me to have it moved to your office?

NICOLA: That'd be great. Can you do that? Right. Olly...

-Ollie, that's right. -Glenn and Olly,

what I need to know from you, really, is

all the stuff that Terri's not going to tell me.

-The stuff she's gonna keep from me. -GLENN: Huge list.

OLLY: Where the bodies are buried.

NICOLA: Exactly. Yes, the plague pits.

The, you know, big cardboard boxes full of bits of old junior minister.

I'll just go and sort out that policy digest.

NICOLA: Lovely.

Urban renewal is a bit of a running sore.

-In what way? -Well, it's very woolly and big.

Sounds like a mammoth.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Right. Okay, so, um...

um, my Big Thing... Come in, actually.

Come into my office with nowhere to sit or put anything.

My primary focus is social mobility.

-That's very much my Big Thing. -OLLY: Right.

I suppose I'm telling you that, really,

partly to get your take on it and also so that you can, you know,

start spreading the news and printing the posters.

And, you know, fire up the turbo chargers,

set the phases to equality. It's Murray time!

Well, the thing is, and Olly, please, correct me here if I'm wrong.

Oh, I will certainly do that.

Social mobility, making people richer, costs money.

OLLY: Yes, and we don't have any of that, really.

Right.

If you speak to Nick at the Treasury he will tell you the same,

only with his annoying lisp.

What you're telling me is that basically I'm going to be a woman

with a computer and some pens?

-Well, it's just a pen budget. -I mean I have about as much real power

as those twats who sit on either side of Alan Sugar?

Well... Yes.

Secretary of State, we have got some clothes for you to look at

-for a press photograph later. -NICOLA: Oh!

We can continue this later, maybe?

Yeah. Definitely. I'll come find you.

-You're a size 16? -I'm 12.

Oh, 12. I'm so sorry. Well, I'll get those changed right away.

At the moment I've got nobody at all,

um, apart from Hugh's guys, who are

just kind of so fucking patronising and cold.

Seriously, one of them looks exactly like he works in menswear at Selfridges.

(CHUCKLES) I don't know what the fuck to say to him.

-Secretary of State? -Yes?

-Your fruit salad. -Ah, brilliant. Thank you.

Oh, I've just had a couple of press calls.

A couple of the papers asking about your husband and the PFI.

Already? My God. They're so... They're so on it.

-Aren't they? -Could you brief me?

Yes, sorry. It's honestly nothing. James works for Albany,

which is the company that was awarded the PFI prisons contract

-by this department. -Yes, I remember.

I know that sounds bad, but actually James wasn't at Albany

when the contracts were awarded and I wasn't here, so...

-Yeah, maybe, um... -It's not a conflict of interest, so...

I think you could just run that by Malcolm.

-He's on his way. -Not Malcolm. He's...

-What now? Coming in? -Yes, he'll be up in 25 seconds.

Okay. Fuck. Right.

So, Malcolm Tucker, Malcolm Tucker, Malcolm Tucker!

Malcolm... I'm not nervous, you know, it's just...

Malcolm's sort of one of those things that I'm aware of

without ever having really come into contact with.

-Um, like a rat. -No, he'd hate that.

He thinks of himself as a sort of thin white Mugabe.

Do you think?

Because if you are worried about Malcolm, you know,

we have amassed a few tips

how to deal with him, over the years.

We have worked out when he's going to give you a verbal colonic

and some, you know, avoidance manoeuvres.

Tae kwon spin!

Is this the No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency?

Malcolm Tucker! The real deal. Hello.

The real deal. Good to see you. You're looking great.

All right, Hinge and Bracket, time to go and hang up your lady-cocks.

Nicola Murray! Here you are, Secretary of State

for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship.

Yep, I now have one the of the longest job titles in Western politics.

Thank God I don't have to wear a lapel badge.

It's a pity we couldn't just make an abbreviation of it, you know, like PFI.

Which I think stands for Pretty Fucking Imbarrassing.

If you're a bit sloppy about the details,

which clearly your fucking husband is.

Okay, look. James works for Albany, fine.

He wasn't even working there when the contract was awarded.

-Don't worry. That was just me -Okay, right. Fine.

I mean, that's the sort of thing the press will throw at you.

I mean, you step out of line, they'll be all over you.

Like a pigeon on a chip, you know? Is that your chair?

Oh, God, yeah. It's cool, isn't it? It's got lumbar support.

Bin it.

People don't like their politicians to be comfortable.

They don't like you having expenses, they don't like you being paid,

they'd rather you lived in a fucking cave.

Okay, fine. So, what should I be sitting on?

Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?

Just a fucking normal chair. Right?

Not a fucking massive vibrating throne.

GLENN: Malcolm must be hating this.

All these bright, fresh new ministers to blood in and to plan a by-election.

If it's any consolation to you, a little bit of you

will always be in this department because she's nabbed your chair.

Hasn't she? She's got your chair, and in fact your dandruff.

Ha, ha, ha. If I go, that chair is coming with me.

You know those old men you see who go to the park to read the paper?

That'll be you. You could go in your chair.

They'd make you king of all the tramps.

So, uh, you got three kids, yeah?

-I've got four. Yeah. -Four?

Katie's 16, she's the eldest. She's just left school.

Not going to a college, to university?

-Uh, she's a bit of a rebel. -What sort of a rebel?

I mean, so what are we talking here?

Are we talking a pierced navel or holidays at Pakistani training camp?

It's chiefly heroin.

Although she has cut down since

getting pregnant by that Nigerian people-smuggler,

because the track marks would have affected her porn career.

I'm sorry to disturb. Um...

-Morning, Malcolm. -Morning, Terri.

Just wanted to give you a few things here.

That's change from the fruit salad.

This is this morning's paper. Do excuse me.

I'm surprised that you haven't vetted me,

I thought you'd know about the kids.

It's just that 'cause you were just a sort of, you were a bit of

-a late-ish kind of appointment. -Mmm.

That didn't quite give me the time to, you know,

to fuck the I's and fist the T's, as Robert Robertson might say.

Sounds to me like that she's only bringing in one other person, so,

you know, I wonder whether she might keep one of us on permanently.

TERRI: Thank God I'm safe.

Gee, we know you're safe, Terri! How do we know you're safe?

We know you're safe because you keep using the word "safe",

like bloody Jim Bowen.

(AS BOWEN) Yeah, you've got DoSAC, that's safe.

Do you want to go for the treasury, young lady?

Okay. Mrs Walton.

What about these other kids? What ages are they?

They're 11, nine and five.

-11? -Mmm-hmm.

So that's, uh, secondary school?

No, she's still at primary, state primary.

Lovely little school with terrible SATS results,

but, you know, really good kind of broad demographic and steel band.

So, she will be going to a secondary school, what, in September?

Yeah, yeah. So, um...

I... I can see where this is going. Um, it's not an issue.

Great! If it's not an issue I'll just fucking toddle off, then.

I'll go and have a nice relaxing wee sleep under my duvet.

Probably won't even have to tug myself off

'cause I'm so fucking relaxed about that.

'Cause I know that there is no fucking issue here. Right?

She's not going to the comprehensive, Malcolm.

She's going to a local independent school.

Jesus H fucking Corbett.

Do you honestly think...

Do you honestly believe that as a minister you can get away with that?

You are saying that all your local state schools,

all the schools that this government has drastically improved

are knife-addled rape sheds, and that's not a big story?

For fuck's sake! Sort it or abort it!

Let's get this clear. My family is off limits. All right?

This job is not going to get anywhere near my husband and my kids.

-It just doesn't. -Of course it fucking does.

As per the wee barcode and the serial number under your right armpit,

you are now built and owned by the state.

And you are under the spotlight 24 hours a day, darling!

You know what you are?

You're a fucking human dartboard.

And Eric fucking Bristow's on the oche flinging a million darts

made of human shit right at you.

Can you take that? Can you?

Okay, look. You, the all-swearing eye.

You didn't even know how many kids I had. You had to ask me.

So who on earth in the press is going to even know or care?

Do you remember The Big Breakfast?

-Remember that programme? -Yes!

Remember how Chris Evans started that? Do you remember it was a big success?

And then they had that guy Johnny Vaughan, remember him?

-Uh-huh. -Everybody loved him.

Fuck knows why but they loved him. Do you know what this is here?

This here is fucking series 10 of The Big Breakfast.

And do you know what you are? You're the fucking dinner lady

that they have asked to come and present the show.

The reason I didn't know about you and your children

is 'cause you were so low down

on the list of candidates for this job,

I didn't even have the chance to look into you.

So low.

Way, way, way, way, way, way, way low.

You are now being scrutinised for what you wear, what you say.

For your hair, your shoes,

your fucking earrings, your fucking cleavage and your dress,

which, by the way, is way too loud.

Too loud?

Yeah, I'm getting fucking tinnitus here!

Look. Your crooked husband I can make go away.

But your crooked husband combined with you being worried about

your underage daughter coming home up the duff

from some truanting bastard, I cannot.

She goes to the comp, okay?

Oh, God.

Um, you, Glenn, yes. And or Olly. Terri!

-Just a quick update, really. -How did it go?

It was all very positive, we sort of know where we all stand now.

The PFI thing you know about, is not a problem, Malcolm's fine.

Second little thing I've just apprised Malcolm of

is that my 11-year-old daughter will be going to a private school.

Oh, for fuck's sake! Sorry.

Okay. It's a personal issue. I'm not Education Secretary so...

Nor will you be.

Secretary of State, with respect, this is political suicide.

All right. Well, thank you very much for your support, Glenn.

Perhaps I was hoping there might be a way around it.

Sorry, there is no way around it, it's horrible. It's a bit like Dover.

You know, if you want to go to France, you've got to go through it.

Well, you don't have to go through Dover to get to France.

You can go through Weymouth, Portsmouth, there's plenty...

I don't want to go to Dover. I don't want to go to fucking Dover or France!

I just want my daughter to be happy at school.

Great, well that's good, that's, that's excellent.

That's a super message to send out,

shows you've got principles, it's the kind of thing you could be...

For fuck's sake, Olly, there's no point

telling her just what she wants to hear, is there?

NICOLA: So, Terri?

Uh, yes? I'm sorry but personal issues are not my brief.

Okay, thank you for that.

Um, the chair, the lumbar chair, has to go in the skip, Malcolm insisted.

-Oh, okay. -Not now, cause I've got work to do.

But if you can get somebody...

Apparently, if you have a nice chair it turns you into Saddam Hussein.

This entire building smells of coleslaw.

Ah, so, first cabinet meeting.

-Yes. -How do you feel?

Anxious? Nervous? Worried?

Well, she probably wasn't until you said, "Anxious? Nervous? Worried?"

Now you're an advert for Tamazepam.

If I'm sick all over the Foreign Secretary, would that look bad?

No, Geoffrey Howe shat himself on his first morning.

Olly, please!

Well, I find that kind of tomfoolery very tiresome...

Sorry, Terri, what's the driver's name?

It always makes you look more human if you know their name

-and I am human, so... -It's Elvis.

-Seriously, what's his name? -No, it's Elvis.

He's from the Ukraine, you see.

And nobody can pronounce the real name

so they call him Elvis on account of the...

(MIMICS ELVIS) * Uh-huh-huh *

-What? -Take a peek.

(EXHALING)

Hey, what's wrong with you?

You look like you've shat a Lego garage or something.

Jim Lane's daughter is standing as an independent in Leamington Spa.

For fuck's sake.

Fuck! This is going to split our vote.

Do you think we're in trouble?

Maybe we should have chosen her over Liam Bentley.

No, she thinks just because her dead fat-arse dad was the MP,

that gives her the right to be our candidate. No, no, no.

This isn't tsarist Russia. It's not the fucking Dimblebys.

-What do we do? -We send everyone up there

to support Liam Bentley, including the Prime Minister.

You want to send Tom up there?

Yeah, fuck it, he'll be all right as long as he doesn't do the smile.

You hit the phones, right?

I'll be with you in two shakes of a crying baby.

-Wow. Black widow. -Malcolm.

Congratulations. First cabinet. I heard you wowed them.

The meeting's literally just finished, how would you know that?

PM texted me, he's very impressed.

You could be nominated for best newcomer.

-Really? -No.

You knew Jim Lane, didn't you? The dead fucker. God rest him.

Yeah, I did, a bit, back home.

Very sad, all those weeks on life support.

-Nice chair. -Sad?

What, lying on your back getting fed nutrients through a tube?

It's my idea of a fucking holiday.

How would you like to go to Leamington?

-When? -This morning.

It's never too soon to go to Leamington.

I've just taken over a department, I have a hell of a...

You've been asked by the PM specifically to pop along to Leamington

and do some photo ops with Liam Bentley.

Supporting him, yeah?

-I don't really have any choice, do I? -Of course you have a choice.

You can decide exactly how you say yes.

You can do it with a voice. Have fun with it.

Yes. In my own voice.

I look forward to toasting your success.

-Have a lovely time in Leamington, yeah? -Can I go?

Of course you can fucking go.

(SIGHS)

Jesus. Never easy. Never fucking easy.

-Yeah, hi. Come in. -Um, hi.

Um, yeah.

-Glenn. -Glenn...

What do you think of Glenn?

(LAUGHS) Well, it's sort of like asking what I think of skirting boards?

I mean, I assume that we need them but I'm not really sure why.

I'm finding him very old-school.

Well, yes. Well, he's ancient-school, really, Glenn.

I mean, he used to get his packed lunch nicked by Plato, he's an old...

So, um, I'd like you to come up to Leamington with me.

Oh, great, yeah. Well, it's, uh...

It's my favourite of the spa towns.

Erm, apart from all the others, so...

Okay, lovely. So if you could just get, uh, Terri in, please.

Sure.

-Terri. -Yeah?

-(PHONE RINGING) -You're on.

What?

What were you and Bravo Two Zero talking about in there?

-Who? -Her, you know. Her in there.

Bravo Two Zero.

Well, I don't know what that means, Glenn.

Yes, you do. No, I don't mean that. I mean Juliet Bravo.

You've completely lost me, Glenn. I really...

Juliet Bravo! She was a lady policeman.

(CHUCKLES) A lady... A lady policeman?

Did the last 30 years not happen to you?

-What? -Have you been asleep

in a box full of straw like a Blue Petertortoise?

(MOCKINGLY) Lady policeman.

I've asked Olly to come up to Leamington with me.

-Olly? -Yeah.

I can't really connect with Glenn.

(SIGHS) Um...

You think I shouldn't have asked Olly?

-No, no, I didn't say that. -You sort of did with your face.

No, no. Olly has got plenty of good points, it's just he's...

Well, he's a little bit morally bankrupt and massively self-centred

and a tiny bit dangerously unreliable.

But he has got a lot of good points, as I say.

Great, well, thank you. Can you just send, send Glenn in for me?

Glenn. Nicola would like to see you.

(CLEARS THROAT)

-Hi, Glenn, take a seat. -Oh, thank you.

-You ever worked in retail, Glenn? -No, never have.

Oh, just...

Um, so what do you think of Terri? Do you trust her?

-No. -Right.

'Cause she just told me she sort of prefers you to Olly.

When I say I don't trust her...

(CLEARS THROAT)

What I mean is I don't trust her around money.

Really? Blimey, what, she steals?

No, no, no, no. I'm not saying anything like that.

'Cause actually I got very little change from my fruit salad so...

No, no, no. Let me just row back a little bit here.

Perhaps, um, all the way to the boathouse.

Actually, I do trust Terri.

Okay.

-Your chair's gone. -Oh, yes, yeah.

I had to bin it. Malcolm insisted.

-But it was my chair. -Oh, right, I... It was...

It was decadent, Glenn. It was a chair gone mad.

Do you know where it's gone?

...Skip.

-Is this a... -Skip.

I'm-I'm rea... I'm sorry for your loss.

I paid £600 for that chair.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

TERRI: (ON PHONE) How's her hair?

Terri, you'll be delighted to know that the Secretary of State is now

checking her hair in my glasses.

-You're on TV live. -What, now?

You're on now, apparently.

TERRI: Why are you squatting down?

GLENN: Ah, there she is. Malcolm. Nicola will be there in a minute.

No, you're in the shot, actually, Olly.

Why am I in the shot?

-BENTLEY: Nicola Murray! -Thank you.

Hi, everybody. Well, um, I'm very pleased to see

a number of familiar faces here. Hello!

-Isn't she good with the people? -Yes, she is.

But then, so is Kate Thornton and she's wanted for war crimes.

Ladies and gentlemen, let's take a look at Liam Bentley's election poster.

REPORTER: Mrs Murray, do you feel your husband's involvement

in the PFI prisons contract compromises your position?

Well, I'm just here to support Liam Bentley.

REPORTER: You don't feel there's a conflict of interest?

No, I really don't.

-Excellent. -She's handling this very well, Malcolm.

Don't you think?

REPORTER: Are you going to resign, Minister?

GLENN: Oh shut up, you twat!

NICOLA: ...and I think they're interested also

in greater opportunities for social...

-Looking terrific, Olly. -She's a little bit...

-What? Sorry? -A little bit edgy.

TERRI: Can you please make sure Nicola's right in the middle?

She doesn't look important enough. Can you just move her over?

-Could you move for a second? -Right here?

TERRI: Perfect! Perfect.

-That looks terrific. -GLENN: No, no, no. No!

Jesus, Terri! The letters!

TERRI: That's great there. GLENN: What does it say, Terri?

-It says Liam Bentley. -No, it doesn't.

Not there, it fucking doesn't!

PHOTOGRAPHER: Move back where you were, please, Nicola.

Uh, okay.

This is obviously the hot spot.

TERRI: Well okay, if you crop the...

GLENN: Of course, if you crop. Malcolm!

You tried. You really tried.

-Did your best, mate. -Very happy with it.

-You both did your best. -Thanks.

PHOTOGRAPHER: Big smile!

Hi, darling. Did you see Mummy on the telly?

(LAUGHS) I know, did I look funny?

It did, good boy. It said, "I am bent."

-Have you, um... -Yes.

TERRI: We're currently in a no-commenting situation.

(ALL TALKING AT ONCE)

Is this now official nuisance calling?

Great. Someone's just sent me a YouTube clip

which is me, in front of the "I am bent" sign

randomly intercut with bits from Family Guy.

It's not even funny! Why do people fucking do that on YouTube?

Look, let's learn and grow from this experience.

We can make a blacklist of words you should never stand in front of,

in case the press get to do something like that.

-Peacock. -Peacock, of course.

Shuttlecock. Spatchcock. Anything cock, really.

Do you remember that folk singer, Tim Hardin?

Well, you'd be able to get "I'm hard" out of that.

Coarse fishing, that could be "arse fish" if you crop that.

And walkie-talkie could be cropped to say alkie, twice.

There are no walkie-talkie...

Why would I stand in front of a walkie-talkie sign?

Malkie-Malkie.

Well, you know, Howard, she's not bent,

neither in the sense of being corrupt or being gay.

And by the way, that's an incredibly homophobic headline, you massive poof.

You've got egg on your face, Howard. You over-easy pissbag.

Oh, hey, Yoko Ono and the two remaining Beatles, piss off.

Right. Any chance we could just skip over the usual abuse bit

and move on to the part where we sort this out?

Yeah. You need to make a decision.

Are you still going ahead with the private school? Because if you are,

we need to draft a statement saying that your husband is leaving his job.

Are you taking the piss?

You're expecting me to choose between

fucking up my daughter's life and fucking up my husband's life?

-Yeah. -So I just have to choose between them,

like they're on some fucking cosmic dessert trolley?

Listen, darling, I can't fight on two fronts, you know?

If the press run with both these stories, you're fucking dead.

You set this up, didn't you?

-What? -To put me in my place?

Or get back at me for ignoring your advice?

Or some other weird perceived slight that doesn't in any way merit

this massive fucking out-of-proportion Israeli-style response.

You don't realise, I'm your fucking fairy godfather, right?

-Jesus. God help me. -I'm your fairy fucking godfather.

But I haven't got a magic wand that I can wave about,

I've got a fucking Blackberry and a chiv.

You've got a decision to make, you make it. Talk to you later.

Malcolm. Sorry, can we just carry on talking about that thing?

Was it you who positioned me there?

Do you know what the first sign of madness is? Paranoia.

Have you seen that film, you know, A Beautiful Mind?

The one with that Russell Crowe.

The one with the maths guy who thinks that the CIA

are working away in a shed at the bottom of his garden. That's you.

No. I am not the mad one here.

You are the mad one. You're Russell Crowe.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. You are Russell Crowe.

And you need to fucking listen to me, Russell,

you fucking Antipodean fucking kangaroo-loving fruitcake.

See, this poster stuff? That's fucking small fry.

That's fucking whitebait, Russ, me old cobber.

The really horrible stuff,

that's all still about to happen to you, right?

Right, you're coming in here so we can carry this on?

-What, now? -If you can spare the time.

Uh, no.

I... No. I can't... I don't use lifts, I'm claustrophobic.

(LIFT BELL DINGING)

-You're what? -Not hugely.

I can be in rooms, you've seen that. I just don't do lifts, that's all.

But this lift is... I mean, it's fucking huge!

I mean, this is bigger than some rooms, this is bigger than some people's flats.

-It's about not being able to get out. -Oh, well, that's great.

That's fucking great. That's another fucking thing right there.

Not only have you got a fucking bent husband and a fucking daughter

that gets taken to school on a fucking sedan chair,

you're also fucking mental.

Jesus Christ. See, you,

you are a fucking omni-shambles, that's what you are.

You're like that coffee machine, you know,

"From bean to cup, you fuck up."

-He so is Russell Crowe. -TERRI: Who?

Nicola, I did want to tell you that I...

I did try to get a message through to Olly...

-I know. -I've been doing this,

you know, a long time now. By which I mean, you know,

in an experienced, firm-hand-on-the-tiller sort of way.

Not in a, you know, clapped-out, over-the-hill kind of way.

-Yeah, I know. -I've learnt to look out

for these sort of things and I have developed a kind of

sonar for them now, like a bat.

Glenn, do you want to...

Do you want to maybe stay on? I could use that sonar.

-Batty man. -Right!

Uh, forgive me. I think that's Jamaican slang for "homosexual".

Yes, I was thinking that as I said it, I'm really sorry.

-I didn't... -No, no, no, no.

-Right. -Okay.

(SMIRKS)

NICOLA: I'm on my way down. See you by the front door, Elvis.

-Have you decided? -Oh, shit.

Yes, Malcolm, you know I have.

I decided the minute you told me I had to decide.

-I'm going to change Ella's schools. -Good for you.

Listen, I'm going to try and get your social mobility thing moving.

I talked to the Chancellor.

I'm gonna really keep banging away at it, you know,

like Charles Hawtrey on a sleeping guardsman.

Okay. I mean, she's...

-She's very bright, so... -Yeah?

They say if you're very bright

then it sort of doesn't matter what school you go to.

That's true.

That is very true. Hey!

See you later, state educator.

GLENN: It's a highly expensive lumbar support chair, for God's sake.

Oh, don't be ridiculous. I mean, that's paper recycling,

it's not going to be there, is it?

I'm going to call you in the morning

and if you're not there, you're in big trouble.

Glenn,

see this Dickensian hysteric who's just gone home?

Here's what you do, right?

You make like the great Oz, yeah?

You make a big noise to impress Nicola.

But secretly, you're wanking behind the curtain to me all the time.

You want me to pass information to you?

Don't kill yourself, though. Well, not over this, you know.

I just want you to make her feel good, you know?

You can be a friend of Dorothy's, can't you?

Then we'll all get some fucking peace around here!

Right! I'm away to wipe my arse on pictures of Nick Robinson.

I'm getting good. I can give him a quiff.