Original subtitles

I'm very sorry I woke everybody up, James.

Well, we could always give the kids earplugs, you know,

or sedate them. Maybe a bit of friendly heavy sedation.

Oh, bollocks! "First in the Sack race."

And they've capitalised "sack",

just in case anybody thought it was a piece about what a good sack-racer I am.

(CAR DOOR OPENING)

-Look! -Gotta go, I am being car-jacked.

-By a Jock. Car-jocked. -I'm actually very happy

with my broadband provider, yeah.

There were other meetings round about that time

and I need to see all of those.

Glenn, can you put stuff with staples through a shredder?

No!

TERRI: Yes you can, it does credit cards.

Who is going to break the news to Nicola?

I'm going to do that and I'm going to do it alone.

I'm just going to give her the pre-briefing, right?

I'm just gonna blind her with bad press and bumph. You do the...

GLENN: Yes. TERRI: No, no.

-GLENN: The full crock of shit. -Back of the neck.

You've seen the sack race thing, I suppose. Yeah, there it is.

It's not funny! It's not even accurate, because technically I was fourth.

So, really, they should have said, "Fourth in the Sack race."

I think we should complain to the PCC.

Look, stop worrying. The PM is not going to sack you after a week.

Sacked after 12 months, looks like you've fucked up.

Sacked after a week, looks like he's fucked up.

And I'm not doing terribly, am I?

I love the way that they've sandblasted everything around here. It's so clean!

TERRI: Robyn, you've got no time to shred those.

Please take them to the lavatory or something.

-Glenn. -ROBYN: Did she just say take them

-to the lavatory? -Are you going to stand there like that?

-BOTH: Yes! -You look like the end of a wedding.

-Are you going to give her an arch? -Just go and get her!

She'll never guess there's anything wrong. Fucking idiot.

I'd just like people to get to know the real me.

You know, I feel like I'm coming across as a bit...

Oh, I don't know.

-Glum. -Smug?

-Smug? -Yeah, you're coming across

more smug than glum.

'Cause I am actually quite a fun person, underneath all of this.

I've got loads of friends.

Well, I'm sure you have,

but the trouble is when you say something like that,

it sounds a wee bit smug.

MALCOLM: Could you just pull in over here?

And you can take out that cyclist as you're going,

I think he's Shadow Cabinet.

(WHISPERING APOLOGETICALLY)

Could you meet me at the door tomorrow?

-Oh, sorry. -It's like carrying two fridges in.

Yes, of course. Yes...

Right, so the lunch, I've gone with the Guardianin the end,

I thought maybe not The Mail, they might be nice to your face

but then brand you a man-hating Euro-slag.

Olly, if you had to choose three nasty adjectives

that describe me, what would they be?

-I'm sorry? -Well, I was just talking to Malcolm

and he mentioned a pejorative word which I hadn't thought of before,

so I'm just keen to get your take.

-Okay, top three? -Yeah.

Um...

Sour?

Oh, okay.

Frumpy. And...

uptight?

Yeah, okay.

NICOLA: I mean, why not egg and spoon?

Egg and spoon would have been better than sack.

Yeah but, you know. "Egg on face."

"She must go spooner rather than later."

What if you'd dropped it? "Yolk-o Oh-no." You know...

-Morning. -Secretary of State.

-Yes? -Something terrible has happened.

Oh, lovely, Terri. Beautifully finessed.

-What? -It's my duty to advise you

of appendix four of the Data Protection Act's

advisory note to government departments.

Sounds like you're arresting me. Appendix what?

Shut it. We'll ask the questions here, ma'am.

I was being a policewoman?

Look, somebody explain to me in simple terms what has happened.

'Cause at the moment I feel a bit like I've wandered into a cryptic crossword

compiled by Rumpel-fucking-stiltskin.

Basically, every British citizen

who has arrived here in the last seven and a half months...

(CLEARING THROAT)

Their names have been wiped.

The immigration database is blank.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck. This is a fucking disaster.

Well, the last hope was that Olly had it on that thing...

-What, a memory stick. -Stick.

Well, I only said it just 'cause you looked like you were gonna self-harm.

I mean, they've got to be somewhere, surely.

Yeah, well, they're not actually in that drawer.

I'm getting Nurofen, Terri.

Do you not back up, you people? I back up!

I don't even know what backing up means.

I really thought that today we were going to start the fight back, you know?

And it looks as though we've started the fight back by beating ourselves up

and poking out our eyeballs with our own fucking teeth. Jesus!

Right. Who, primarily, should I be shouting at?

(ALL MUMBLING) Glenn.

Oh, thank you very much!

I have here the minutes which are a record and...

No, no, no. You can't just over-write minutes.

You specifically can't do it, cause you can't unlock a pdf file.

Somebody has just done a huge poo on my desk and I want it cleared up.

My bum is clean, it's clean as a whistle.

And I'm going to tell you something interesting.

Unless you take the hard drive, smash it up with a hammer

or you drop it in acid, that data is still going to be retrievable

and that... It says so on the BBC website.

I need a shortlist of people who are responsible.

Glenn, will you bring me a shortlist

-with your own name on it? -Right.

Malcolm's on his way over.

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

Does he know?

I don't think so, do you want me to go and ask?

-No, don't ask him! -Jesus fucking Christ.

Right, we need to cancel the Guardianlunch.

-ALL: No, no, no. -No. That would be a ridiculous

-signal to do. -Wrong message.

That's the kind of signal that a dying whale sends out, isn't it?

(IMITATING WHALE) "Noooo!

"We lost the immigration figures!" sort of a signal.

Would you all please just fuck out of my office?

-For a long time. -TERRI: Very good.

Got you a croissant.

Morning, desk jockeys. Is glummy mummy in?

OLLY: I think she's on the phone?

Oh, right-o. Why don't I just cool my heels here?

-Good morning, Malcolm. -Good morning.

Do you know, Malcolm?

Uh, the best way to clear a paper jam?

I don't know.

Kill a kid an hour until it sorts itself out?

Excellent. Hi, Malcolm.

Great. So if you can just sort out the sack race situation for me,

that would be terrific.

Yeah, yeah, what would you like me to do on that?

Ideally, build a time machine

so that we can go back and not invite photographers to the sports day.

If I fail to build a time machine?

Just sit on it, really, Terri. You know, stop it growing.

-ROBYN: Zap it like a tumour. -Thank you, yes.

So, Malcolm...

Oh, oh, oh. Incoming body parts. Excuse me.

Look, if this has got any bigger,

you're gonna feel the thump of a fucking harpoon in your thorax.

Does he know? Well, follow him.

MALCOLM: I hope that you like shitting toenails,

because that's what you're gonna be doing all of next week.

And don't worry, I've painted them yellow

so they'll look like fucking sweet corn.

The guy's a fucking liability!

(SOFTLY) Jesus Christ. Listen, I want...

Look, I couldn't hear everything, he takes very long strides...

What, are you a fucking penguin? Just run.

Look, I'm a civil servant, not a fucking Olympic athlete!

Right. What's occurring, Hermann Goering?

What?

You're fucking kidding me.

Excuse me.

Two minutes and I will be back.

I'm fucking okay for bollocks, mate.

That's it. He knows.

-Do you want me to follow him again? -Yes. Yes, no. Yes.

I'm Secretary of State. Yes! Yes! Do what I say.

How's that list going? Are we covered, Glenn? Who's on the list?

-It's not a big list. -Well, get going on the bloody list!

Hi, Robyn! Hey, look.

Um... You know Phil Davis? Is he a Davies or a Davis?

I know you don't like me, Glenn, but you're not sacking me.

What?

(BOTH LAUGHING FALSELY)

I'm protecting you.

Okay, well, you know, I've got your back as well.

Even though I know you are the guy who authorised the wiping of the back-up.

-Well, that may or may not be true. -Well, it is true.

-Well, it may or it may not be true. -Well, that is true.

(FALSE LAUGHTER)

Benefit of a short-term strategy is

it allows you to develop a long-term strategy...

-Explain it to them. -We've just been discussing

the data loss incident and...

Can we not call it the incident? It just sounds like a toxic spillage.

Kerfuffle?

How's the time machine coming along, Terri?

Have you managed to find a flux capacitor yet?

Well, I had to come fetch Glenn...

It was a joke, it doesn't matter.

I was thinking that one possible strategy might be not to tell anybody.

What, we keep it a secret?

Sorry, sorry, Malcolm's coming back.

Tell me more about not saying anything.

Well, it's pretty self-explanatory.

-Or not? -Robyn,

maybe you could get us some teas.

Okay, what does everybody want? I'll make a little list, shall I, Glenn?

TERRI: A cappuccino, please.

NICOLA: A herbal, please, a Lemon Zinger.

-ROBYN: Really? -Yes, please.

(IN GRUFF VOICE) Little pigs. Little pigs.

Let me come in. Don't worry about the hair on your chinny-chin-chin.

So, what was your call?

What was my call?

Did you...

You want to know what my call was?

(CLEARING THROAT) Was it important?

I'm sorry, I didn't realise that I had to run all my calls

through your bed-wetters' switchboard here.

I usually just dial 1-1-Hate.

NICOLA: Malcolm, do you know?

-Obviously he knows. -No, he doesn't know.

There has been a massive irretrievable data loss.

The last seven months' worth of new immigrant details have gone,

apparently lost in the computer.

Oh...

Do you know what? Do you know what's really fucking sad here

is that I don't even have the energy to pretend I already knew.

Which is for the best, because I'm gonna need all of my fucking energy

to fucking rip all of your bodies to bits with my bare hands and sell off...

Yes, sell off your fucking flayed skin as a sleeping bag

to a fucking normal person!

Can I just say that getting angry actually isn't going to help anything.

I've done anger, I'm currently at grief,

I'm working my way towards bargaining... Whatever, you know, you're behind me.

So, what is your great strategy for dealing with this?

Come on, I'm fucking all ears. I'm fucking Andrew Marr here.

So, let's... Terri, let's hear what you...

Let's go, let's get going.

High-level tactical discussion, I'm up for it.

Right, blaming the department minister might be a high-risk strategy.

Oh, high-risk. Saucy. Power serve.

My pitch would be this department is fatally flawed.

It's out of condition, it's obese, it's asthmatic.

That-a-girl, back over the net.

You need to be really sure about that, Nicola.

Yes, wise words from the distinguished, elderly, gay fucking tennis coach here.

Seriously, I think we should talk about my strategy further

because I really think that that's the way...

Yeah, the fucking wee ball boy is having a go now

with his wee fucking tiny shorts on.

What about Sue Barker's little sister here?

What's she got to say?

You got something to say to add to the conversation?

No, just that there was no lemon zinger so this is coffee, is that all right?

Do the Guardian know about this?

Oh, fuck. I don't... Fucking Guardian, I don't know.

Yeah, as it's referred to in my department.

Should I find out? Get some feelers?

Yeah, go on, get your feelers out for the lads.

What do you think, Malcolm?

Shitting on the department, will that work?

Yes, let's cause a little bit of friction.

Let's fire someone. What about Glenn?

No, you can't just fire Glenn like that.

NICOLA: We could fire Glenn. TERRI: Shall I get his file?

GLENN: No. I've got a list!

See, there you are, he's got a list.

You're a new broom, you're sweeping up trouble with one end

broom-handling incompetent staff up the tunnel with the other.

So, Malcolm, how do we play it at the Guardian?

Smile. Be gay. Smile, smile, smile.

So, who's going to be there?

Oh, plenty. There's gonna be all the hacks.

There's the editor, the leader writer, all the political staff

and actually, unfortunately, I heard that

that so-called cartoonist is going to be there.

You know, the one who drew the picture of you smothering the dove of peace

with your breasts?

For no apparent reason.

Do you want to run any policy stuff, any lines?

You know, things you might want to say?

Look, what about the plastic versus wooden toys thing?

Oh, God, no, no, no. That was absolute 4 a.m. stuff,

that was to be filed away with Community Support Parkkeepers.

Complete top-of-the-head stuff. No, no.

No, I think this is just about showing the real Nicola.

Operation Not Smug, Not Glum.

Well, I'm told this lunch is on the fifth floor, so...

It's taking a while, I mean, maybe we should... We should just walk.

I'm not walking to the fifth floor.

I would actually like to be able to speak by the time we get up there.

(LIFT DINGING)

No, look, if I go in the lift,

I become convinced I'm going to die, so I'm going to walk.

I'm sorry. Claustrophobic. I'm sorry.

And just check that for the duration of the lunch

we are all off the record, yes?

I mean, but we're happy to be on.

No, off is best.

It's a bit like when the snooker comes on, on the telly,

you know, you just... Off. Off.

Off.

How's it going with her? How are you finding her?

-Nicola? -Mmm-hmm.

Very, um...

good. Er - fun.

(ALL EXCLAIMING IN GREETING)

Hello. Nicola Murray. Hello. Nicola Murray.

Nicola... Oh, this is all formal, isn't it? I need to lighten up.

Yeah, I like to use the stairs sometimes to,

you know, just a bit of a laugh.

Right, so, well done, bit of a baptism of fire, first week.

The whole "I am bent" thing, the sack race stuff.

Oh, God, yeah, I know. That was annoying.

-MALE REPORTER: Yeah. -And hilarious.

FEMALE REPORTER: Annoying and hilarious?

Yeah, you know, like Russell Brand.

You wanna hate him, but he's just funny.

(ALL LAUGHING)

It's like, well, um, the current problems.

(HESITATINGLY) Which problems in particular?

Just asking, we're off the record.

I'm not playing any games with you,

I'm not tobogganing you, anything like that.

Well, it's only been a week.

A lot of data to keep on top of at DoSAC, I imagine?

Oh, there really is. Or are. Is? Are?

Data. Don't know. Plural?

Come on, you're the Guardian. I don't know, it's a minefield.

We do very much keep on top of it. Or them.

The datas. That's a very important part of what we do.

And um, we back up everything...

All... All the time.

MALCOLM: Afternoon, ladies.

I heard there were sandwiches and I'm a fucker for cress.

No, no, no, please don't get up, I'm not Viagra.

-Jeffrey. Good to see you. -Always a pleasure.

John, how you doing? I just want to tell you, I really enjoyed your novel...

Oh, thank you very much.

...way of writing a fucking awful story. Joking, joking!

So!

Eh? Eh?

She's not smug. She's not sour, is she?

Thanks, Malcolm.

See, what it is, is these bastards, the other bastards,

they are selling her as smug and sour. You know why that is?

'Cause she's a proper person.

With dyed roots and stretch marks.

She's not one of these arseholes that goes on The One Show,

fucking laughing their heads off

about the fucking Apprentice or whatever it is.

She's ordinary. And they can't handle that. Yeah?

But that's why we need you guys, the good guys, on side.

I mean, they've certainly gotta get through you.

You couldn't be any closer.

Oh, ta, I'll come a bit closer to you.

No, no. That's enough, thanks.

Yeah, I don't wanna do that, you know.

Not with the old wandering hand syndrome that you've got.

You managed to patch it up with her?

Well, not now. Not now, Malcolm, thanks.

You're still sleeping in the car, yeah?

Sorry, Nicola. We talked about immigration, what's going to happen

when there is the next inevitable immigration foul-up,

how is that going to work?

Look, she's been in the job a week. Right?

The department's shit, they're fucking shit!

She's working her fucking lady bollocks off, trying to get things done in there.

She's really doing all right. All right?

Fuck's sake.

Well, a week is a short time in politics.

I think as a rule, I will be very happy to come and talk policy.

Fantastic. That's great. What's a trademark Nicola Murray policy?

Well, there's the... the wooden toys thing.

JEFFREY: Brilliant. NICOLA: Yeah, I mean it really is.

We're knocking about some ideas about plastics.

I'm aware that my kids' toy box is full of plastic

and they have very few of the little wooden toys, you know,

that would have been traditionally played with by their forefathers

and fore...mothers. It's a big family.

Uh, and...plastics sometimes contain carcinogens so...

The first step, I think, is going to be probably trying to decarcinogenosise

toys.

You know, mass decarcino-genocide.

The simple message here would be,

let's get back to wood.

Simple wooden toys, um, for simple. People.

Children. It's very early days.

And obviously, we will tighten that up a bit.

So. Good?

Good. Good.

-Good. -Fine. Yeah.

Good, good.

Funny old department to come into, isn't it?

You know, obviously you've shied away from talking about it a bit in there,

but immigration, is that all sorted now?

Right, we weren't sure whether you knew or not but...

Yeah, that's DoSAC.

You say that, I had no idea when I came in

that we were just haemorrhaging citizenship data.

-Haemorrhaging? -Yeah, it's the last six months' worth.

-God! -Did you... How... Did you know?

Well, we do now.

Well, thank God we're off the record.

Bye-bye, John, lovely to meet you.

Sorry, bye-bye. It was nice to... I didn't catch your name.

-Oh, it's Marianne, actually. -Marianne. Right. Yeah.

So you were at the lunch, weren't you?

Um... No, no, actually I'm freelance, I'm just doing some feature shifts.

Sorry. Uh, Marianne...

You were behind us just now coming down the stairs, weren't you?

So, you heard what we were talking about and...

-Yeah. -But we were off the record,

-so that's... -Well,

it's very nice to meet you, anyway.

Shit. Shit!

Come on. Hey, French Lieutenant's woman, we're over here. Come on!

What are you doing, marking out your territory?

Welcome to the mothership.

I just... I need some air. Olly, can you come with me?

Open the door! Come with me now.

MALCOLM: A post-match puker, is she?

-Come on! -What? What is it?

Look over there, there's a woman, red hair, young woman on the phone.

-Yeah. -She was behind me on the stairs,

I thought she was off the record, she was actually on the record.

So I need you to go over there now,

take whatever was on the record off the record.

What is it? What was on the record?

It doesn't matter. Don't be thick for once.

I'm not being thick. You're not giving me enough words.

Say whatever it was is off the record. Go, now, run, run, run! Marianne.

All right! I don't know what she said.

(SIGHING) Yep.

I'm going to miss my wine tasting again tonight.

I expect you're probably just more of a single-malt man.

I mean, I quite like a...

Look, for fuck's sake, we both know I've got Blackberrys to check.

Marianne, I'm not threatening you, but...

What?

Well, like I say, I'm not threatening you.

Yeah, well, usually the phrase "I'm not threatening you but..."

is followed by a threat.

I'm sorry, Malcolm, I'm really sorry.

Fuck's sake! Jesus! Christ!

Well, now we've got another fucking adjective

to add to fucking smug and glum, haven't we?

Fucking retarded!

Jesus... Do you not think it would be germane

to check who you're talking to?

It's a fucking newspaper office!

It's not a fucking sanatorium for the fucking deaf, is it?

Are you so dense?

Am I going to have to run around slapping badges on people

with a big tick on some and a big cross on others

so you know when to shut your gob and when to open it?

Jesus Christ!

Oh, but that'll probably confuse you as well, won't it?

That'll be too confusing.

You'll see the cross and go, "Oh, fuck, X marks the spot.

"Better tell this little person all about the Prime Minister's

"fucking catastrophic erectile dysfunction!"

Oh, but not to worry. Not to worry.

You've sent fucking Olly over there to deal with it.

-(NICOLA STAMMERING) -Fucking Olly!

He's a fucking... He's a fucking knitted scarf, that twat.

He's a fucking balaclava!

Well, you're on very shaky legal ground there.

No, I'm really not. How am I? Oh.

Look, the department's not fit for purpose, really.

-No, it's not. -I mean, Terri's quite bad and...

Not just Terri. I mean, I'm not going to name names but Robyn,

-Robyn's shit. Total shit. -Robyn, she's total shit.

All right, Morph. Fuck off.

I'm sure that we can settle this matter of you eavesdropping

on a private conversation.

It was a public conversation.

No, you are... You think you're so clever

and you are so totally wanking with the wrong crowd here

because this man, right?

(HURRIED WHISPERS)

This man is the press.

I misspoke and I mis-saw you...

-Nicola! -Fuck... What have I done?

Right, so do you think that this is going to advance your career?

Is this you moving forward?

At least my career has got a trajectory,

whereas yours is about to crash head-on into a change of government.

Don't you worry, girl, because I can still fucking steer

some fucking flaming wreckage right in your fucking direction.

Yeah, I tell you what. Once it's printed I promise I'll come back to you

for a reaction quote. How's that?

Darling, I wouldn't fucking piss on you

if you were fucking allergic to piss, right?

-On you go. Walk the walk. -Quite enough for me for one day.

-Thank you. -Walk the walk. Fuck right off. Go on.

We'll live though this, won't we?

Nicola, I've got the list ready whenever you're ready.

I'm ready now, actually. Yeah.

I can do it in reverse order if you like. Like the pop charts.

-Oh, how was Meet The Press? -It was not great.

They didn't know about the data loss, they do now.

Okay, well, that's not too bad, though, off the record.

They can't use any of it.

No, I was ambushed by a not-off-the-record journalist.

-Never mind. -Oh, fuck!

All right, from now on, none of us let her out of our sight.

She's not to be trusted. Sorry, Minister.

-Terri. -Yes?

Where in the civil service guidelines does it say it's absolutely fine

to leave your minister alone with a hostile journalist,

if you just can't be arsed to walk down the stairs?

-No, I'd already pressed the button. -GLENN: Absolutely.

However, it was supposed to be on Olly's stick,

so he is the last man standing.

Hey! Hey! Hey! At least I know how to use a stick, Mr Floppy.

Have you finished?

Well, no, I imagine I'm gonna have to be doing it over and over again

until you go on the fucking course.

Okay, let's call a truce.

Let's agree that nobody in this room is going to be sacked, okay?

-For now. -I've still got the original list here.

Okay, let's start with that.

Top of the list is Kelly Peters.

-TERRI: No. -Why not?

She's a very nice girl, Kelly Peters.

I mean, she's very kind. She often lends me hardbacks.

-Terri, The Mailis on the phone. -NICOLA: Christ.

Don't worry. I'll deal with it. I'll deal with it.

(SIGHING) Um, Robyn.

-OLLY: Yeah. -What? No, no, no, no.

Absolutely... There are too many implications, we just simply cannot

go with the idea of sacking Robyn, okay?

Are you sleeping with her?

What? No!

Although every time he does see her in his head he just hears...

(SCATTING PORN VIDEO MUSIC)

-Olly! -It just seems to me

that all we'd be losing if we got rid of Robyn

is somebody who makes a weak cup of tea, you know. I don't think we've...

(MOBILE PHONE RINGING)

Shit, Malcolm. Hello?

Get over here. Now.

Might be advisable to wear brown trousers

and a shirt the colour of blood.

-Fuck. -GLENN: Has he run off? He does that.

Yeah, it's all just gone really HBO. I've got to go to Number 10 now.

What, now?

Need my coat and one of... And you, Terri.

-What? Really? -I need my right... Oh, fuck, shoes.

-You want me to come with you, too? -Yes.

-Shit. -Okay. Right, we're off.

I'm actually wondering whether to take... No, I can't take the lift.

I just wanted to say to you by way of introductory remarks

that I'm extremely miffed about today's events.

And in my quest to try and make you understand the level of my unhappiness,

I'm likely to use an awful lot of what we would call

violent sexual imagery.

And I just wanted to check

that neither of you would be terribly offended by that.

I could actually do without the theatrics, I think, Malcolm.

Enough! E-fucking-nough.

You need to learn to shut your fucking cave. Right?

Today, you have laid your first big fat egg of solid fuck.

You took the data loss media strategy

and you ate it with a lump of E. coli.

And then you sprayed it out of your arse at 300 mph.

I simply made a mistake.

You got on the record and off the record fucking mixed up!

What would have happened if like George Martin had done that?

We'd have no fucking Beatles, that's what.

Now, I don't give a fuck about that.

I've had to fucking sit next to Paul McCartney at fucking Chequers.

The data loss wasn't my fault.

Fine, yeah, but I tell you what.

It came out fucking pretty fast once you were in there, didn't it?

Which makes me wonder, should I just go and talk to the boss?

Should I go and tell him, "I don't think she's up to the job."

You said yourself that if he sacks me after a week

it looks like he's fucked up.

Yeah, but that was before,

when your only problem was a fucking shit pun in a newspaper

and a face like Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle.

Okay, I messed up, right? I messed up.

But I will from now on listen to every bit of advice you give me.

Yeah, I'll go on Question Time wearing a push-up bra and a fez.

Yeah, I'll do the hustings on stilts if that is what you tell me the strategy is

because you know about that stuff, Malcolm. I know that.

It's just that I've got things I want to do, all right?

Of course you do, like Montessori fucking rocking horses, I suppose.

No, no.

The Mailhave the motherlode on this, right?

So that means that there is a way through this for us

but it entails you, my dear,

eating a complete concrete mixer full of humble pie.

Right, what's the strategy?

The Kraken awakes.

No, no. It's just that... I mean, this is the first bit of the meeting

that hasn't been about expletives and fezzes and stilts and teabagging.

I mean, this is the bit that relates to media management.

I didn't say anything about teabagging. Do you even know what teabagging is?

Not really, no. I'm told it's unpleasant.

-Who do you want me to call? -The Mail.Get The Mailin.

Right, okay, come on. The Cheeky Girls, that's it, back on tour.

(SIGHING)

-Yeah, I love you work. -(WHISPERING) Teabagging?

Yes, this is Marianne from The Mail.

Glenn, I've told you who I want you to fire.

I need you to do it, not me, because I'm relatively popular around here

and frankly, you've got nothing to lose.

(CLEARING THROAT)

Well, this is it, Robyn, this is me, true to my word.

Andrew, mate, sorry, nothing personal, you've got to clear your desk and go.

-What? -Please don't hit me.

I'm wearing glasses.

NICOLA: What I'd like to say to your readers

is that the person responsible is being fast-tracked to the dole queue

as fast as her kitten heels will carry her.

You need to leave your badge, obviously, security.

Stick it!

Andrew, please, don't take it like this, please.

NICOLA: We're going to sort this mess out.

-Andrew. -TERRI: I'm so sorry.

MARIANNE: Is everything all right out there? It seems, uh...

So, that was, um, the person responsible.

Didn't you say something about kitten heels or...

It's never a pretty business,

but you know, he made mistakes and...

And he had to go.

Olly, perhaps you could show Marianne to the lifts.

Actually, I thought I might take the stairs,

see what else I can pick up on my way out.

That's very funny.

Hi, Nicola. You all right?

Yeah. Robyn, could you get me some tea?

Now?

Um... Bad moment?

You sacked the wrong person, Glenn. They're all bad moments.

TERRI (SOFTLY): Glenn. How's Nicola?

GLENN: She looks so...glum.

She looks like I feel when I visit Sheffield.

(TERRI SIGHING)

TERRI: Well, I don't think the Guardianliked us

going on the record with The Mail.

I mean, I did try and spin it. I got them to take "frowny" out.

No, you didn't. Frowny's the second adjective.

Oh. Well, I did do something.

"Nicola Murray, looking glum, frowny and tired,

"was overheard moaning about..."

Glenn, mate, what would you do if you found that a dongle

that everyone had thought was lost

was right at the bottom of your second best bag?

I don't think we'd want it back.

"One of her gems is a plan to outlaw plastic toys."

GLENN: Right now, Olly, Nicola hates us

but if she knew we'd found it, she'd start laughing.

Hating is better than laughing. Trust me.

NICOLA: "Why anyone would want to brand her a killjoy

"or a sourpuss is beyond us."

That was it. It was sourpuss.

They wanted to put "sour", I suggested the "puss".

-Morning. -Morning.

GLENN: Morning.

I'll see if I can find a hammer and some acid.