All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S03e07.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

Oh, that's great.

(CHUCKLING) Don't know why
we've ordered so much water.

We've all got rabies.

So, basically, just get crisps
shaped like rockets,

rainbow-coloured ice cream,

you know, the sort of stuff
that all the other kids
have at their parties.

Blimey!
More? What are we doing?
Opening a dolphinarium?

Good. Sorted. So...
Sorry about that.
Where were we?

-Uh, healthy eating.
-TERRI: Beneficial Lifestyle
Choices.

-Get in.
-What?

I've just landed Andy Murray.

-Yay! That's brilliant!
Andy Murray?
-Andy Murray! Well,

-I've definitely
got Andy Murray.
-Andy Murray,

-the face of Healthy Choices.
-GLENN: Oh, all right.

-TERRI: The tennis player?
-No, the fucking pianist.

Nicola Murray
nets Andy Murray.

OLLY: We both netted him
together.

TERRI: Are you sure you want
him?

-NICOLA: Uh, yeah!
-Murray?

Doesn't it
sound like nepotism?

Like, in the way that people
think Russ and Diane
Abbott are related?

-OLLY: Yeah.
-Possibly.

And Bill Murray's her father.

Okay, I'll level with you.
I don't like him.

NICOLA: Who would you
suggest then, Terri?

-Paula Radcliffe.
-Pooey Paula?

That's not healthy.

Shitting in your own pants,
that's definitely
not a healthy image.

She could demonstrate
how to do the hop,
shit and jump.

That is very unfair.
It only happened once.

Once is all you need!

Imagine if Bruce Forsyth,
beginning of
Strictly Come Dancing...

(GROANING) "There we go!"

You'd never hear
the end of that.
And quite rightly.

Terri, can we move on
from your
hatred of Andy Murray

and can we start trailing
a major DoSAC initiative?

Now, don't give any details
at this stage,

-just say it's major TBA.
-TBA?

-To be announced.
-Oh. Just...

It's really self-defeating if
I have to explain
abbreviations to you.

-Sure, sure...
-FFS.

-What's FFS?
-Oh, for fuck...

Oh, we're going to need
Malcolm clearance, Olly. Okay?

Glenn, can you get rid
of all this water as well?

It looks like something
out of fucking Doctor Who.

Here they come.
It's the Flying
Scots-curry-man.

* Where's your poppadum? *

You have got to
try this aubergine.
It's cooked in ghee.

I fucking love ghee.
It's like fucking
freebasing butter.

Have some more wine.
Come on, get quaffing.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Oh, Christ, here we go.
No, we don't do takeaway.
Right.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Listen, see,
if this is recorded spam,

I'm gonna hunt you down
and burst your fucking lungs.

Where actually
are you, Malcolm?

I'm on holidays.

Where are you on holiday?
Where?

Right, okay,
I'm in Thailand in a sex bar.

About to get a fucking facial.

Right. Quick summary.
Andy Murray,
famous tennis player,

also a lovely Scotch person,

face of Healthy
Lifestyle Choices.

Nicola Murray,
slightly
panicky minister-lady,

wonder if
that's okay with you?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Andy Murray.

Yeah,
Andy Pandy fucking Gandhi
having a hand shandy.

Whatever. Just, you know,
fuck off out of my life. Okay?

Okey-dokey.

The man from Hell Monte,
he say, "Fuckin' aye."

Sorry about that.
Everybody's heard
about the cooking, so it's...

So, Malcolm,
what's all this about?

Well, I know that
these are hard times
for print journalists, yeah?

I mean,
I read that on the internet.

I mean, one day you're writing
for the papers

and the next,
you're sleeping under them.

What, so this is like
Malcolm Tucker's soup kitchen?

Well,
it is, kind of, in a way.

I just think
that you should have
one big square meal

before you end up fucking
living off white lightning
in your own faeces.

Come on, get stuck in.
I'll dish it up for you.

What about Tom bringing back
Steve Fleming?

That kind of
makes you old news,
doesn't it?

You repositioning yourself,
Malcolm?

This is about
a guy sharing his ghee.
That's it. Okay?

So, you're not
currying favour, then?

(LAUGHING) Sorry.

-Fuck you.
Get out of my house.
-That was quite funny.

-Get out of my fucking house.
-That was good, Geoffrey.

That's it. I know... I mean,
no wonder nobody's fucking
buying your paper.

He's really on holiday?

Malcolm hasn't been on holiday
for 10 years.

Malcolm's got to keep moving
or he's dead.

He's like a shark.
Or Bob Dylan.

TERRI:
Well, who's driving the bus?
STEVE: Morning!

-Morning, DoSAC.
-GLENN: Oh.

Bollocky bollocks.
It's the Ghost
of Christmas Shit.

There's your answer, Terri.
That's the man
driving the bus.

-That's Reg bloody Varney.
-Your name?

All stops to
electoral oblivion.
Ding ding.

Get in my office, come on.
It'll buy us a bit of time.

GLENN: So, come on.
Have a look.

I've never seen Steve Fleming
in the flesh.

You're lucky.

For a man who brought us back
into power,
he's not very imposing,

is he?
He's like a Lego policeman.

Look at him. Super Mario.

Morning, campers!

-Steve Fleming.
-Oh, no.

Hello. Oh! Okay.

-Hello, Nicola.
-Hi.

You look like
you've lost some weight.

-Do I?
-STEVE: Yeah.

I don't think so, but...

I think so, yes.
No,
your face looks quite gaunt.

-Muscly.
-Does it, now?

Anyway, I come bearing
caffeinated gifts.

-Oh, thank you very much.
-Okay. Thank you very much.

TERRI: That's very thoughtful,
thank you very much.

I'm going to cut to the chase.
I need you to publish

all the crime stats since 2004

as an accompaniment
to our Transparent
Government launch.

From 2004 up to
the last quarter.

Okay.
We are just about to launch
Healthy Choices.

-With Andy Murray.
-Andy Murray! Whoa!

-Ace!
-Good joke.

We'll make
a minister of you yet.

I mean, after that, we can try
and get you something for,
say, end of the week?

After? Why after?
Why not right alongside?

Or, here's a thought...

Before.

Because we're under-resourced
and it's not a priority.

The PM thinks
it is a priority.
It can be done.

Oh, I seem to have reached
the end of my argument.

(LAUGHING)

Okay.
Well, look, why don't we say
Thursday lunchtime. Okay?

Well, you've got
Fran's leaving lunch
on Thursday.

I have got a lunch.
Thursday afternoon.

Yes, I don't give a fuck
about Fran's leaving lunch.

I'm saying now, now, now,
now, now, now. Now!

Okay. Chillax.
We're on the case, Steve.

Lovely. Thank you very much.

Good. Okay.
Well, it's
a delight to see you again.

-Oh!
-Oh, I get another one.

Mind my gaunt face.

(BOTH LAUGHING)

-Bye-bye.
-ALL: Bye.

-Bye.
-OLLY: What do you call that?

Obsessive repulsive disorder,
I would say.

I'm going to ring Malcolm.

Holiday or no holiday,
I'm going to ring
Malcolm about this.

"Caffeinated gifts."

-Malcolm never
brought us coffee.
-Bloody lunchtime.

-I like him.
-Yes,
well, you like bath salts.

You're basically an idiot.

So,
everybody's for coffee, yeah?

-GEOFFREY: Mmm-hmm.
-Yeah, I'm sorry I
can't do espressos.

But I've made this
so thick and black,

it'll be like fucking
drinking plimsolls.

This Steve Fleming thing
is going to end
in tears, isn't it?

I mean,
you sacked him last time.

All right. Right. Okay.
Off the record. Right? Okay?

While Steve is a useful tool,

and I do emphasise
the word "useful" here,

I'm still running the show.
Right?

If you're still
running the show,
why do you need to tell us?

Geoffrey,
all I'm saying is this.

It would be very much
fucking appreciated

if you could emphasise the
fact that I'm
the heart of government.

Because it's fucking true.
I am the heart.

I am the ventricles.
And the fucking aorta.

(CHUCKLING) Malcolm, we get
it. You're still
the star of the show.

It's not for me to say that.

No, you're still
the star of the show.

Yeah, until they start
wheeling out the celebrities.

What's next, Malcolm? Ant and
Dec as the new
fucking litter tsars?

That's when you know
you're 20 points
behind in the polls.

Oh, well, thank you very much,
Mr Fucking Prick Robinson.

Nicola, it's your
nephew on the phone.

-What? Oh, I didn't...
-Your nephew. Andy Murray.

Fuck! On the line, now? Oh, my
God! It's Andy Murray on the
line! What line?

-Press two.
-He's not there, Terri.

-Fuck's sake!
-Maybe it was three.

God, it drives me insane!
Is he there now?

Yeah, yeah. Hang on,
let me just get him off hold.

It really pisses me off!
The fucking
phones in this whole...

Andy! Hello.
It's Nicola Murray, yes.
What a delight to talk to you!

-Hi, Malcolm.
-Olly. Andy Murray.

Oh, good. We are literally
confirming him as we speak.

Ditch him. We can't go with
celebrities. Right?
It's just gonna look bad.

-NICOLA: Done deal.
-Why?

MALCOLM: We're gonna
look desperate, all right?

Well,
Steve Fleming likes the idea.

Never mind what Mummy says.
Just do what
Daddy says, right?

Yeah, whilst you're on,
there's another thing.

Uh,
Mummy has asked us to publish
the crime stats

as part of
the Transparent
Government initiative.

-Is that all right with Daddy?
-It's fine.

Really? Because Nicola's got
that baffled, panicky look

like a child on
the ghost train.

Give me a second
while I look up my little file

of things I really don't
give a fuck about.

And here we have under the
letter N, we've got
nail-bombing golf clubs,

there is the National Trust,
there is Newcastle.

Nicola Murray.
Yes. She's still there.

So, fucking can Andy Murray
and just get on with
the fucking crime stats.

I'll make sure that Kate
liaises with my press whiz
kid, Terri Coverley.

She's a woman.

But listen,
if there is anything else
we can do for you,

please don't hesitate to call.
Dare I say it,
we are here to serve.

(LAUGHING) If
you'll excuse the pun.

All right, Andy.
Take care. Bye.

-Malcolm says we
have to drop him.
-What?

Andy.
He's not in, he's now out.

Apparently, according to
Malcolm, sent to bed
without any barley water.

I mean, he's a fucking tennis
player. We're not asking
Shane MacGowan. Why?

It's nothing personal. He just
said bringing in
celebrities looks desperate.

He said it's the sign
of a dying government.

We are a dying government!

Our hair's falling out
and we're coughing up blood

and our kids are asking us
to change the will.

Look, he was quite
clear about this.

He said just, you know, kill
it. Kitten,
breeze block, sack, canal.

Oh, I can imagine him
being clear about it.

Right.
We've got to get on to...

-You've gotta get on to...
-TERRI: Me?

...Andy Murray's people and
find a polite way of saying,
"Piss off, Andy.

"Apparently you're too
well-known to front our public
awareness campaign."

-Right.
-Right.

Good news is I have
done all that pile
and that's in the system.

-OLLY: Excellent.
-Oh, fuck me!
What the hell is this?

It appears to be
a trolley full of crime stats.

"Vandalism." "Bicycle theft."

Oh, this is ridiculous!

Oh. Well, that's given us
an unexpected head start.
Well done.

I would kill you but
I'd have to add you
to the fucking figures.

NICOLA: Okay.
Think about what
you're gonna say.

-Yeah. Okay, I've done that.
-What?
Already? Is that enough time?

Kate.
Hello. Uh, Terri Coverley.

Yes. Yeah, we're thrilled
about Andy being on board.

(WHISPERING) Get on with it.

TERRI: (STAMMERING) No.
I'm not actually
saying that it's...

Shit!
End the call. End the call.
It's Moustache Sally.

Steve Fleming's here.
Put the phone down.

-Ah!
-TERRI:
Sorry, can I call you back?

-Nicola Murray!
-Can I call you back? Bye.

How are the crime
stats coming along?

It's not easy, Steve,
as you can see.

But Glenn and Olly
are on top of it.

"Other theft."
What the fuck is other theft?

I don't know
what other theft is.

If you want to stay late or
pull an all-nighter if
you think it'd help...

You want us to work
all through the night on this?

It would be very
much appreciated
upstairs.

Ah, well. I'm an atheist.

(LAUGHING) By
the Prime Minister.

I did get the joke,
by the way.

(MOUTHING) Well done.

Good morning, good morning,
good morning. I'm back.

I'm sorry I left
my sombrero at home
but here I am.

What do you think
of the tan, huh?

What do you
think of this shade?
I call it Custard Cancer.

-Oh, thank you very much.
-Where did you go?

I went to, um, Easter Island.

I thought I'd
spend my time there
rechiselling all the statues,

so that they'd
look like Westlife.
How about a coffee?

Oh, I've sent you a link
to Andy Murray's website.

There's
something you should see.

Andy Murray's website?

Andy says, "Just agreed to
lead the government's
Healthy Choices campaign.

"Eat, live, be well."
Fuck a Pot Noodle.

Sam, prepare my horse.

I ride to DoSAC.

-Hello, Terri.
-Morning, Nicola.

-Who am I, Terri?
-You're Nicola? Nicola Murray?

-Ah. Secretary of State for...
-That's right.
I'm Secretary of State.

So,
why has a sports personality

launched my policy
on his fucking website?

Ah! No, I know.
I know exactly why that is.

You didn't make
the phone call, did you?

-Well, uh, yes.
-Um,
in other really bad news...

-Good morning, by the way.
-This is about
the crime stats, yeah?

Yes. Some of the crime stats
that we published,

as it turns out, were
unverified and not ready for
being in the public domain.

-Uh,
Marianne Swift of The Mail...
-Oh, Swine-Face Swift.

That's the one.
She noticed a drop

in the figures for
aggravated burglary
in the last quarter.

-Whereas,
when she checked it out...
-There was no drop.

-Yeah.
-Right.

So, Swine-Face Swift
and her piggy
hack-hog colleagues...

Exactly. So, we're getting
a lot of
oinking on the phones.

So, basically, what that means
is that the department,

well,
essentially the royal you,

um, seem to have massaged
the crime figures.

Great. Thank you,
Steve fucking "Oh, Nicola!"
Fleming.

Yup. He is a fucking...ninny,
isn't he?

-Bring my dispatch boxes.
-Okay.

-Malcolm!
-Oh, there he is.

Bob Carolgees.
How's the wee comedy dog?

Welcome back. Good holiday?
I hear your kitchen's
lovely this time of year.

-Yeah. Well,
actually, I went to Spain.
-Oh, nice.

Yeah, yeah. I went to Malaga.
It was lovely.

I was golfing
with Stephen Hawking,
he's fucking shit.

He lied about his handicap.

Mind you, I never had to hire
a golf buggy.
I just sat in his lap.

Please. Why do we have to be
like this? All this negative
energy. Come on!

-What?
-Well,
we've got to work together.

So, you know...

So what? I mean, that doesn't
mean we have to like
each other, does it?

-No, I mean...
-Sorry.

We both know we
don't like each other.
Everyone knows that.

We are the Gallagher brothers
of politics.

How does that work? Does that
mean that I am
the semi-talented songwriter

and you're
the fucking loutish prick?
That's a lovely analogy.

You were the one
who forced me out
of the sodding band.

(CHUCKLING) Come on,
let's have a chat.

You were asked
to leave the fucking band.

And you wouldn't
fucking go, would you?

You had to hang on in there
like a limpet up
a whale's arse.

Why do you thrive so much
on being disliked?

People hate me? Good!

Bring it on.
Do you know what
they think about you?

Oh, I'm sure you're gonna
tell me, Malcolm.

I'll tell you exactly
what people say about you.

-All right. Go on, then.
-Fuck all!

Oh, do they? Fuck all?

People have got
no fucking opinion
about you.

You're like fucking Special K
or fucking The Moody Blues.

Actually,
you're fucking white noise
in the background.

Funny? Is that funny?
Do you find it funny?

No, I don't find anything
you're saying
funny whatsoever.

And I'll tell
you a home truth,
Malcolm Tucker,

the people who
are really hated
in this country,

the people who are
really hated, are us.
This government.

How about we stand together?

(MOBILE BEEPS)

Let's both be team players,
shall we?

Were you the Einstein that
okayed this fucking Andy
Murray thing at DoSAC?

Because I've got
The Telegraphon here.

And you've probably got
The Timesasking why the
budget's been pre-announced

-on Twitter by
fucking Ryan Giggs.
-Shit!

"The last
quarter's crime stats,
which DoSAC have published,

"are unconfirmed projections."
Shit!

-That's DoSAC for you.
-Come on, Malcolm.
Team players!

Bring me sunshine.

No, we're not manipulating the
figures. Somebody quite
simply made a mistake.

-No. No,
I couldn't possibly say who.
-Glenn Cullen.

Glenn. With one N.

NICOLA: We have actually
decided to go in a different
direction from Andy.

-Good holiday?
-Shut it,
you fucking hairdresser.

Got any photos?

I've got a photo of you in a
minute in your cock
nailed to the desk.

Hey, you want to see something
that's truly
worth photographing?

Look at Steve Fleming at work,
eh? That's the real
master of spin.

He's Spini fucking Hendrix.

Nicola,
you and your department
have screwed up!

I'd like to agree
with the previous speaker,

only adding
the words "fucking royally".

Oh, Jesus!
Am I being gang-bollocked?

Andy Murray's
Henman-fisting us
in the press.

-Well, we...
-We can't have...

With undue respect, Malcolm,

the crime stats cock-up
is a much bigger deal. Yeah.

This is such
a great double act,
isn't it? Good cock, bad cock.

I'll tell you what. Why don't
you go first, man?
I need a wazz.

I like you,
Nicola, I quite like you.

But darling,
I've got to ask you,
what the bloody hell happened?

Like you asked,
we published the crime figures

from 2004 up to
the last quarter.

Yes. Up to the last quarter
but not up to and
including the last quarter,

you dozy mare!

"Up to" includes the thing
you're going up to. Right?

If we say count up to 20, it
means count up to and
include the number 20.

The events leading up
to the Second World War

do not include
the Second World War.

We haven't got time
for a semantic
argument about this.

-Listen, sweetheart...
-Do not fucking
call me sweetheart!

I think you'll find
that Steve was addressing me.

-The tache is
a bit of a giveaway.
-I will draft a statement.

You fucking will not draft
any fucking statement.

I've been minding the shop!

You were fucking
minding the shop
and what happened?

A bunch of fucking school kids
came in and fucking
dropped their trousers

and fucking had
a shit in aisle five.

Well, thank you for giving us
a guided tour

around the Freudian nightmare
of your head.

Could you two decide between
you in which order and
from which direction

I'm going to be shafted?

Andy! Let me talk you
through the decision there.

We do need to go
in a different direction. Mmm.

(STAMMERING) Well,
that's probably...
We need to go black.

What? Sentiment? Comedy?

Would you like to speak
to Oliver Reeder?

'Cause he's
the sort of mastermind.
The person...

-Don't tell him that.
-The whole...

Hello, Mr Murray.

(STAMMERING) I can assure you
that you would remain my
number one choice.

But, you know, I put it
together and I don't get to
have the final say

on anything, really. You know,
in any section
of my life at all.

-Or even in my personal life.
So...
-GLENN: Digging. Stop digging.

(WHISPERING) So...
Shut the fuck up!

Ignore him. Just come with me.
Come into my office.

Let's deal with
the crime stats...

Come on.
Malcolm, Malcolm. Malcolm!

(LAUGHING) Sorry
about this, everybody.

Goodbye.
Give my regards to the rest
of the fucking Village People.

TERRI: Sorry, Nicola, Malcolm,
excuse me. It's Andy Murray.

He's insisting
on talking to you.

-Talk to him.
-What?

Get him back on board.
Fucking talk to him.

-No!
-(WHISPERS) Yes.

-You cannot be serious!
-Was that an attempt at
a joke?

You told me to kill it.
I've killed it.

-No. No, no, no.
-Right now,
some photos in the papers

of a very boring man
with tight white shorts on

is going to be
a very pleasant distraction

from Steve's fucking
crime stats abortion.

If we need
a fucking celebrity,
can we try somebody else?

-Steve Redgrave.
-He's a boring fuck!

-Lewis Hamilton.
-Fucking boring, boring fuck.

-And fucking drives a car.
-Chris Boardman.

Fucking cyclist!
Are you fucking mental?
Everybody hates cyclists.

Even fucking cyclists
hate fucking cyclists.

Plus, he's a boring fuck.

-I cannot...
-Paula Radcliffe?

-No, she shat in the street!
-And she's
a boring fuck as well.

How about we just
launch the policy
without a celebrity?

Oh, great idea. Hello, there.
Hi, everyone.
I, Nicola Murray,

would like to say to you

that even though
you don't fucking
know me from fucking Adam,

I think you should
cut down on carbs.

Lads, let's get this
crime stats cock-up sorted.

What have you both got so far?

Well, actually,
now we've been
trying to think of

a replacement for Andy Murray.

-(CLEARS THROAT) Yeah.
-Some of
the women footballers.

Uh,
Jessica Clark or Sue Smith.

-We don't think
that would happen.
-Or Faye White.

I cannot believe
the energy going
into Andy Murray!

(LAUGHING) I can't.

What's his problem?

Just try and wrap
your gin-addled brain
about this, right?

I did say I was
at the heart of government.
But when...

-Malcolm.
-Excuse me.

-I need to talk to you.
-One second please.

Listen, when that...

(PHONE STOPS RINGING)

When that incident occurred
I was on holiday.

Are you saying to me

that my wee caravan's
a great fucking waste of time?

And my stupid fucking
wing mirror extensions?

The crime stats and
Andy Murray, Malc.
It's a double fault.

Listen,
if you are not a prostitute
or a pizza guy, fuck off!

Steve,
listen, could you eat or fuck
whatever's at the door

on your fucking
way out, please?
No, thanks.

How can I be held responsible?

What? For what? I've created
a what around the government?

I've created a vibe?

Listen,
son, the only fucking vibe
you have to worry about

is the one that
your wife hides
in her knicker drawer.

I am on top of this, okay?

Oh, fine, fine.
You know, I'm just saying

I'll gladly lend you a hand
if you feel the need to keep
your head down.

I don't need to
keep my head down

because unlike yourself,
I don't give
blowjobs to truckers.

-(KNOCKING)
-I said fuck off!

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

Oh, it's Lord Nicholson.

What an enormous
pleasure this is.

Well, in fact,
it's the Right Honourable
the Lord Nicholson of Arnage.

And the kissing of
feet may commence.

You got all your stuff ready
for your official
lording ceremony?

Have you got your mink thong
and your ermine colostomy bag?

No, I don't, no.
I have to hire that,
unfortunately.

I can't wear it on
the Tube or the bus,
but I would.

It would be great larks
but there we go.

-How about a coffee?
-Coffee?

-Well,
if there's coffee going...
-There we are.

...I'd never say no
to a nice cup of coffee.

-Will you have a coffee...
-Do you not drink
coffee any more?

Is it all port
and swan's blood
these days?

Swan's blood.
That does sound nice.

No, I'm just sort
of passing through,

because obviously we need to
start booting up this
crime stats enquiry.

But it's, in effect,
an investigation
into the facts.

But I thought since
I was passing through...

Yeah. But you don't
have to talk to me
about that, do you?

'Cause I was on
my holidays then.
Did you get my postcard?

Well,
I will speak to whomsoever
I need to speak to,

-holiday or no holiday.
-Where did you learn
to speak like that?

Is there a special
school that's just
you and Brian Sewell?

-I'm going to leave
you to it, frankly.
-So soon?

And I'm going to
make tracks as well,
Malcolm.

Okay, good to see you both.

The problem is that you are
shifting from the man
people love to hate

to the man people just hate.

From Simon Cowell
to Piers Morgan.

See you later.
Remember,
my door's always open.

OLLY: I had no idea,
no idea that it was Malcolm

who drafted
Fleming's resignation letter
in 2003.

I forgot your political memory
only goes back two issues
of The Economist.

Hey, there's
a reference to you here,
Cullen.

Where?

Alleged to have assaulted an
elderly aide at
a party conference...

-Elderly aide?
-Elderly aide.

God, that makes me sound
like a fucking stairlift.

God, cheap flights are back.

Look, there's something here
from Continental.

"Go to New York..."

-Hey, Dora the Explorer.
-Still here, then, Malcolm?

Time for a milky drink? Come
on. Come on in. I want to
have a word with you.

There you go.
How was Cabinet? Was it good?

Is Tom looking after you?

You're all over the newspapers
like a pissing puppy, Malcolm.

Well, I think you'll find
that's what we masters of
the dark arts call a blip.

Tomorrow that
will all be old news.

It'll be like the fucking War
of the Roses.
Or AIDS. Remember AIDS?

Listen, Nicola, see that...
Did Julius mention to you
about his enquiry?

-Yeah.
-The enquiry into
the whole fucking

-crime stats cock-up?
-Yeah.

You know the phone call that
came through to me
from your office?

-You know,
about the whole idea?
-Yeah, yeah.

It didn't happen, right?

You want me to
cover your back?

I want you to get
the old enquiry screen out

and slap it on,
fucking factor 50,
why not?

Listen, I'll tell you what.
This is what I'll do.

I will get for you
some really good
press attention

for your fucking
Healthy Choices
nonsense. How about that?

I'll get you some big fucking
healthy headlines.

You're in no position
to give me anything.

You can't even
get a fucking bagel
cleaned up off your door.

Do you mind?

What? Do you think
I can't get it up any more?
Is that it?

You're looking
at fucking Lazarus,
sweetheart.

And not just plain Lazarus.
I'm fucking
self-raising Lazarus, right?

Yeah.
So I'll tell Nicola to expect
your call on Healthy Choices

-sometime this afternoon.
-...Choices would
be absolutely great.

-Well done, Malcolm.
-He's very impressive,
isn't he?

In a way that Chairman Mao
was actually quite impressive.

Well, that's
the thing about the evil,
isn't it?

Their amazing work ethic.

How are the hacks?

Ready to eat their own cocks.

(SNIGGERS) They're only
journalists, Steve, not
fucking Rangers supporters.

I know they are.

Yeah, well, I need 10 minutes.
I need to google some jokes
about Andy Murray.

-Shall I go first?
-Warm them up.

Tell them
Olivier is on his way

but in the meantime,
here's an audience
with Peter fucking Bowles.

...Tuesday meeting.
What do you think?

Oh, there he is!
Screaming Lord Crutch.

I like the flunkies,
by the way.
That's a very nice touch.

It's a wee bit Graham Norton.

Don't needle me, Malcolm.
Not when people
are under scrutiny.

-I'm under scrutiny?
-Yes.

I'm fucking Nosferatu.
That's really fucking scary.

I'm walking on.
We're moving on.
I'm Ian Botham.

I'm walking on
for hospice care.

How's it going with
Lord Bonnie Longford?

I've not been in yet.
I've just been
standing here for 20 minutes.

So, if this phone
call does come up...

No! No, that's not...

You're nothing
if not persistent,
are you, Malcolm?

-I wasn't... She was...
-Don't do that!

-I made it quite clear...
-I was standing over there

and I thought, "Nicola's
choking." But she wasn't.
She was laughing,

retrospectively, at
your massive shiny head...

Oh, what happened?
Did you get heckled off?

What was the line?
"Taxi for Tom Selleck"?

Yeah.
Could I have a quick word?
Just five minutes.

(SIGHS)

So, Malcolm, mate.

What is it? What's...

What's the problem?
You look like you fucking
coughed up your own twin.

(CLICKING TONGUE)

No, no, no, no.

I need to talk to Tom.

No, Tom isn't
immediately available
to you.

Fuck off.

Malcolm, the Prime Minister
respects you enormously.

Sam,
get ahold of Pat, right...

Actually,
I'm going to need that.
That's an official Blackberry.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

-Fuck off!
-Right.
Your five minutes starts now.

-MALCOLM: Fuck off.
-This is an acutely

private moment, Julius.

Would it seem terribly rude
if I asked you to shit off
for five minutes?

Yes, it would.

-MALCOLM:
Can you fuck off as well?
-Julius, what...

Sorry. Excuse me?
Julius, what is the deal...

At the moment,
Malcolm is getting the sack.

Shit. Now? Literally?
I mean,
I'm actually in the sacking?

Yeah, well, let's see what the
fucking Prime Minister has
to say about that!

Huh?
Let's see what he has to say.

Listen to me a minute!
The Prime Minister

supports you fully in whatever
you decide to do next.

You. Fucking Nicola.
Right, tell them.

Fucking tell them that
there was no
fucking phone call.

Speak!
I fucking ask you, speak!
Open sesame.

I'm not here, Malcolm.
I'm not...

-You are fucking here!
-I'm not seeing this.

Open your
fucking mouth for once
and say something!

I'm not getting involved.

You fucking speak!
You've always
fucking got something to say.

-I'm only a cabinet minister!
-Fuck off, then.

-Malc. Malc. Come on, Malc.
-Don't fucking touch me!

You cannot fuck me!
You cannot fuck me!

I am unfuckable!
I have never been fucked!

And if you
fucking try and fuck me,
you'll find my fucking arse

will fucking
grow fucking fangs.

STEVE: All right.
Now, come and listen to me.

I'll fucking snap
your fucking cock off.

Will you listen to me?
Malcolm Tucker,
will you listen to me?

Go right ahead.
Yeah. Let's hear it.
Let's hear it.

Listen to me for one second.

Go right ahead.

I wouldn't tell you
what I've just told you

before I'd told
the press pack, would I?

That would be very,
very unprofessional.

So, there's no
point in getting angry
because the show's over.

It's curtains.
No curtain call.

Everyone loved the show

but it just wasn't buttering
any parsnips
any more, brother.

Yeah. You don't
have the fucking balls,
apart from that great inflated

fucking ball on
the fucking end
of your fucking neck.

Ooh, look. Oh.

STEVE: (SOFTLY)
Malcolm Tucker resigns.

-Looks pretty factual to me.
-Fuck this.
Fuck this. Fuck you all.

-Just fuck off.
-No, no. That's all right.

Kate! Kate, yeah.

-(WHISPERING) It's
Andy Murray's agent.
-Ah. Get her to piss off.

-Hi. Uh, no. Absolutely not.
-Malcolm's gone.

I'll call you back.
What did you say?

Malcolm Tucker has resigned.
Malcolm's resigned.
He's resigned.

TERRI: What?
OLLY: Take the telly. Take...

GLENN: Tucker's gone.
TERRI: He's resigned?

(ALL LAUGHING)

Happy days!
Now, we don't have to...

I just want to hug someone.
Please?

Is this good?
I mean, it feels good but...

OLLY: Yeah.
GLENN: Are you sure it's good?

Not because
I don't want to
hug you, Terri.

We're not fucking finished!

You are finished, though.
That is what I've
been trying to...

Out of the way!
What are you doing to her?

Don't worry. Just...
Leave her fucking alone.

Don't worry. It's all right,
it's all right.

TERRI: Yeah, listen. Wine.

TERRI: I've got some wine.
OLLY: Get the wine.
Get the wine.

I've got some wine from the
Tackling Drugs
Changes Lives launch.

Where is it?
Need a bit of help with the...

-What is it?
-It's just, this is a bit...

-The...
-TERRI: Oh, Nicola! Hi!

-OLLY: Malcolm's gone.
-I know.

-Would you like
a glass of wine?
-No, I'm good, thanks.

OLLY: It's fantastic!
NICOLA: I know, yeah.

I've sorted everything out
with Andy's agent.

-That's...
Well, I mean, more or less.
-Good stuff.

TERRI: I can't get it out.

-This is no way to celebrate.
-TERRI: Shall I run
it under a hot tap?

-I'll go run it
under a hot tap.
-Don't run it under a hot tap,

-it's white wine.
-TERRI: A cold tap, then.

What good's running it
under a cold tap gonna do?

That's only going
to make it worse.

Don't do that!
That looks awful.

Get back to fucking Wind in
the Willows,'cause that's
where you fucking belong.

I didn't ask you to...
I didn't ask you
to come back in.

-I'm not fucking...
-Would you leave
my office, please?

I'm not fucking gonna waste
my breath on you.
As for you...

Malcolm, I am sick to death...
You can explain...

(MALCOLM YELLING)

-Don't touch me, Malcolm!
-I'll fucking
touch you if I like.

Because I'll
tell you this, man,
you shafted me, boy.

-I'll fucking
strike you, Malcolm.
-Don't you fucking touch me.

-I warn you!
-Don't touch that scarf!

That's Paul Smith.

Twat. Move!

You will see me again!

You will fucking see me again!

(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)