All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S04e02.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

-"Tickle", Mr "Tickle".
-Mr "Tick-el".

It undermines him.
If we say "Tickle",
it makes him look stupid.

As we enter the third week,

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

even more annoying
than in weeks one and two.

We haven't made
him live in a tent,
we just sold his house.

What do you put into
the Networked Nation?

Well, I am...a Minister.

Look at this: no missed calls.

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

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

Really nice. We managed
to get a table at Mishkin's.

-Oh.
-And you?

Ah, bit of a quiet one.

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

Was kind of
wonderful in its own way.

Er, Malcolm. Can I have
a couple of words, please?

Oh, "political lightweight"?
"Making up the numbers"?

Sorry, that's four, isn't it?

Lovely. Lovely, yeah.
You've still got it.

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

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

Yes. Okay. So relax.

-Cenotaph here.
-Right.

Okay? Off you go.

Yeah, I think that's too slow.

A minute ago you
said I was too fast.

You're looking
like Sleeping Beauty.
That's just weird.

You look like
you've been dug up.

-Okay.
-Do you remember
when you got married?

(SIGHS) I'd
rather fucking not.

-Okay, Nicola...
-Olly, shit, I had it then.

Right. Sorry to interrupt you
at this very sad time

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

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

I've got the follow-up
sarcastic question

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

Yep,
you'll walk rings round him.

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

-Is that too bouncy?
-What do you mean, bouncy?

Because that's helping
with my balance
but if it looks...

-OLLY: Bouncy?
-It is too bouncy.

Well, that's...
You've over-exaggerated now.

-Looks like
you've got rickets.
-It's Remembrance Sunday.

That's what your face
should be doing, remembering.

Think of a sad
thing and remember it.

Not remembering. You don't
want to be walking
along there going,

"Oh! Oh,
that reminds me. Oh, yeah."

Is that what you do
when you're remembering?

I think I've got it.
I've got it, I've got it.

-OLLY: Right, let's see.
-Look, watch.

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

Now my shoe's coming off.

The Leader of the Opposition
is in that room,
Malcolm, practising walking.

I mean, baby horses
can walk from the womb.

She's one-nil down to a pony.

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

Right. Our guest tonight on
I Don't Give A Fuck About
Baby Horsesis me.

But we need to do something
about Nicola, Malcolm.

And you know about her plan.

I mean, Nicola with a plan?
That's like
a toddler with a harpoon.

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

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

I'll deal with that,
Sweaty Betty.

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

(SIGHS) Big shit, granola,
check the email, shower
and a shave, Nespresso.

Sometimes a second shit.

Exactly.
You have a plan. That's good.

Nicola has a plan.
That's not good.

But I have a plan.
That's fucking great.

-And then I bow?
-It's more of a nod, anyway.

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

And just remember
to put
the wreath down this time.

I didn't actually not put
it down, it got caught
in my glove. I told you.

MALCOLM:
Oh, that's very moving.

"They shall not grow old who
photocopied their arses at
the Christmas do."

Look, I don't want
to show myself up

in front of 5,000 uniformed
pensioners again.

Yes, I'm glad you're thinking
about those pensioners

because those are
the poor fuckers
who gave everything

so people like you
could play at
running the country.

Oh, nice. Olly, walk with me.

Forwards or backwards?

Malcolm. You'd get
a much better
response from her

if you didn't bully her.

Sweetheart,
she should be doing
the bullying.

She should be taking
the PM's lunch money

and using his arse
as a fruit machine,

not practising throwing
a straw Frisbee
in slow motion.

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

So how do we engage
with this demographic?

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

and then finding
a name for them.

People who would do something
for nothing.

They are mugs.
Mugs do something for nothing.

-Um, how about
"deserving workforce"?
-(SOFT CHUCKLING)

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

What, handbags?

-Pravda.
-Soviet newspaper.

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

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

They're the commuters,
they are the street-pounders,
streetwalkers...

You can't call
them "streetwalkers".

OLLY: They're the people
who deal with
the little stuff.

Wombles. Honest Wombles.
Everyday Wombles?

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

-Um, straights.
-No.

NICOLA: No, no.
Of course. Sorry.
HELEN: Commuting champions.

NICOLA: InterRail...
Human InterRailers.

Human InterRailers?
That's InterRailers.

OLLY: Er, everyday superstars.
All-British supremes.

That sounds like
a racist tribute band.

Ordinary people with something
special about them,
with a special power.

OLLY:
Please don't say "special".
Don't say special.

No, but, you know,
people as superheroes.

Ironpeople, Spiderpeople...

They're just regular citizens,
but they have that
one special quality

that makes them like Batman
or Batpeople.

The Quiet Batpeople.

Quiet Batpeople?

No, that's not it.

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

-It's just a marker.
-HELEN: Yeah.

Shall we wrap it up
and make a move? Shad Cab?

NICOLA: Yes.

-Don't say Shad Cab. Don't.
-HELEN: Why not?

Because it's Shadow Cabinet,
isn't it?

It's like saying spag bol.
It's fuck annoy.

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

What's she doing?
Is she fucking
sniffing these pens at night?

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

Jizz FM.

What's going on inside that
abandoned barn
of a brain of hers? This is...

This can't go on.
This is fucking suicide.

I know, Malcolm.
I know, I know, I know.

I mean, Nicola...

She's a nice lady,
especially when she's drunk.

Yes.

And her karaoke,
you can't take
her karaoke off her.

I fucking wish I could.

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

Which means that we are
going to have to stick
one in the ground,

trip her up onto it and get
somebody to jump up and down

on her back for 10 minutes.

-Nothing personal. (CHUCKLES)
-Nothing personal.
Of course not.

Of course not.

So Ben tells me you have
a plan. Anything I should
be worrying about?

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

Reshuffle? Don't send Ben
to the back bench

because he'll just wank
and eat Pringles.

Leather seats are
an invitation to men like him.

-Morning.
-You'll never get in.

Cock.

New party logo, a kitten.
A kitten in a sock.

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

"Help me, help me.
I don't know what to do."

-Am I getting close?
-All right, look.

I just think we need to show,

we need to be seen to accept
that there are tough
decisions to be made.

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

with two Government policies
that we previously opposed.
That's all.

-Can we talk about this?
-Yes. Absolutely, Malcolm.

We'll talk about this
in Cabinet, okay? I'll be
talking, you'll be nodding.

I'm struggling here.
You want us
to agree with the Government?

Not on everything, obviously.

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

The coastguard pay freeze

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

So, what, we're now in favour
of drowning sailors
and starving children?

We are
technically the Opposition.

MALCOLM: Can I just
be devil's advocate
here for a moment?

Nicola's right. Of course
she's right, but we should at
least think about

what Dan has to say here.

Because we've already
seen one set of
quisling wankers

cross the floor and join
JB's barmy army. If
the Opposition now join them,

everyone will just be facing
half an empty fucking chamber.

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

-(INDISTINCT)
-So that... Dan.

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

-NICOLA: Malcolm, Malcolm...
-Sorry.

Could you not
talk behind my back?
Thank you.

-Sorry.
-Now, you know,

if you don't
think that message
is clear, then that's fine,

but it is your
job to clarify it.

Fine.

Good. Okay, great.

Before we finish, I just want
to throw one more pebble

-into the thought pool.
-Ploop.

Sorry, Ben, I missed that.

Just...
Sorry. I said, "Ploop."

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

Er, we're still having a bit
of trouble connecting with
the ordinary voter,

the, er, the silent majority.

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

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

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

-Sorry, it's just...
-Oh, I should say, actually,

none of this is set in stone.

You know, they're...
They're not even
set in plasticine.

So the marker for this target
demographic is
Quiet Batpeople.

(LAUGHTER)

-As I say...
-Quiet Batpeople?

Quiet Batpeople.
It's everyday superheroes.

There's a big tick
next to that here.

Everyday heroes,
like vigilantes?

It's ordinary people,
not vigilantes.

Don't you worry your
pretty little
head about it, Geoff.

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

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

Okay,
I'm sensing, er, opposition.

Good, good, because earlier
you were talking about
getting rid of that.

(ALL LAUGHING)

So I would like everybody
to take the idea away and
just let it percolate.

Okay, good.

Ooh, poppies.

Last thing. Can we just make
absolutely sure we have them
on at all times?

-Jackets, coats.
-Or Batsuits.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Wear your poppies
or you will be shot at dawn.

(LAUGHS NERVOUSLY)

-Thank you.
-Yes. Thank you.

Well, I had more fun
at my last mammogram.

Oh, no. You were fine.

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

Oh, Dan "The Demi-man" Miller.

Interview in
The New Statesman.

He says that he pledges
himself to change

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

Arse!

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

and fracture and shake him
into an actual
fucking smoothie.

Hey up,
looks like a fun runner's
lost his way.

Why are there bits of food
wandering about?

CHOP MAN:
Are you for the chop,
Mrs Murray?

MALCOLM: Hack pack.
It's a fucking hack pack.
No comment, no comment.

Be gracious, smile.
Look good. You do look good.

CHOP MAN:
Are you for the chop,
Mrs Murray?

NICOLA: Oh, it's a chop.

OLLY: It's that dick
from the Mirrorwho...

CHOP MAN:
Are you top of the chops,
Mrs Murray?

(LAUGHS) Very funny.
Thank you.

You fuck off,
get back to
the fucking Flintstones.

Turn up like that again,
I'll go fucking
Nigella Lawson on you

and fucking stick
that down your throat
and pull it out your arse.

Right, okay. That's enough.
I don't even do things I
enjoy for this long.

That's it. Let her through.
No questions,

Nicola's got
a government to bring down.

No comment, no comment.
Thanks very much.

Why did we have to stand
there smiling like that?

What, do you think it'd be
better if you were seen
running away in tears?

No, I just think my face
next to a chop
does not look good

unless I'm applying
for a job in Asda.

Why do they need pictures
of her coming from
Shadow Cabinet, anyway?

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

Maybe they want pictures
of an over-Botoxed
Nancy Dell'Olio.

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

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

Right.
Right. Right. Right. Right.

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

with notes just there
for anybody to see?

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

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

that the press
can take pictures
of them.

How was I supposed to know?
They were taking a photo
of Nicola, not me.

Because you are an adult
working in
politics in Westminster.

"Quiet Batpeople"
on every fucking paper!

Right, this is a wake-up call.

And by the way, Helen,

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

with her fucking hair on fire
in a Zumba class,

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

and get them blown up
to gigantic
charity cheque size

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

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

So we have to
seize the agenda.

We have to deflect attention
away from all this.

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

I can't even say his name
without smiling.

Yeah, well,
he's not smiling, is he?

He's living in a tent 'cause
his key worker
housing's been sold off.

Yes, and he's a 24-carat
fucking nutcase.

Which means that Peter Mannion
has been picking on a man

with a history of depression.

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

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

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

They'll just be waiting
for me to attack.

And I'm not going to
and that will surprise them.

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

A proper talk.

Like when Mummy explains
why Daddy's going to be in
the papers tomorrow.

-Come on, out.
-You mean you'd like us to go?

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

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

I do my fucking job!

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

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

Oh, let me boomer-fucking-rang
that one right back at you.

Do you believe in you?

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

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

to try and get
a tiny little flame going.

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

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

I slightly resent
what you're saying.

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

that you're hungry for power.

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

You have to really fucking
want to do this.

This is what I'm telling you!
I fucking want this!

Shit, people can hear me.
I am hungry for this, yes.

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

in the fucking jungle
with a big machete.

You've got to go
hacking through
the fucking opposition

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

-Can you do that?
-Yes.

Can you wear
a necklace made of ears?

I can be a Hutu.
I can wear fucking
fingernail bracelets.

-I can do this, Malcolm. Yes.
-That's what we need to see.

Yeah.
I promise you, I can deliver.

I can see that.

She's got Bette Davis eyes.

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

Fucking useless. (SIGHS)

She is unstoppable
and she loves you.

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

You might as well go to...
Er, Jo, I'll call you back.

Hiya. I thought you were
bollocking Dan Miller.

-Oh, I am.
-Right, is he...

I'm in the middle of slamming
his smug face into
a verbal deep-fat fryer.

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

-Er...
-Join us.

Um...

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

Mrs Doherty is
a Quiet fucking Batperson
or a fucking Motorway Mingebag

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

I'm going to get
a cup of coffee.
Do you want anything?

-Yes,
I'll have a fucking Fanta.
-Okay.

You know what I
think I did wrong
last year?

I think I set off
on the wrong foot.

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

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

-(MOBILE PHONE DINGS)
-It's one of the dys...

Oh, I'm doing it now.

-Oh, for goodness sake.
-Oh,
is this more Quiet Bat guano?

This Weekwould
like to photograph

politicians wearing underpants
over their clothes.

And Graziawould like to know
what you carry in your
utility belt and why?

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

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

So we need to
be rid of Nicola.

-Rid of her?
-She's tanking.

She's fucking
electoral asbestos.

Wow. So, you... You want to...

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

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

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

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

with our own Ellen MacArthur
sobbing and crying. Enough.

Over the side she goes.

She's going to
sleep with the fishes.

Or at least witter
on at them until they
fucking lose the will to live.

So do you...

Do you have a plan?

Optimum timeframe to step down
is eight months from now.

Over that period she has to be
very gently dislodged,

like a tick from a cat's ear.

You set up that
Batpeople photo!

Olly, I'm shocked at you
suggesting that.

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

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

-What film?
-The one about
the fucking hairdresser.

The space
hairdresser and the cowboy.

The guys... He's got
a tinfoil pal and a pedal bin.

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

Lego. They're all
made of fucking Lego.

-Star Wars.
-That's the one, right.

It's like that, okay?

You want to fucking kill
all the bad guys

and you'll be able
to blow up the big...

-The Death Star.
-The Death Star thing.

-Yes.
-Then you can go and live

happily ever after
on the Planet of
the Teddy Bears.

They're Ewoks, they're Ewoks.
It's a fantastic analogy.
Well done. I...

Are you absolutely sure
about this, Malcolm?

Well, not really, no.

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

Er...

Good!
Life is interesting at last.

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

Bonnie Langford's paying.

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

-Rethink?
-I was going to say "trim".

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

No. I might walk onstage
to the theme tune.

Just make sure
you're not wearing anything

that can be photographed
looking like a cape.

Oh, Malcolm. Did you see Dan?

I saw him and I
fucking eviscerated him.

What did you say?

He crumpled
like a crisp packet
on a cooker.

He's now just a small pool
of grease and regret.
Isn't he?

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

-How do you know?
-NICOLA: Were you there?

Yeah, yeah. Malcolm flayed
his skin off. He's going to
use it as his onesie.

That's him just come in.
Don't say anything,
don't say anything.

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

Give us your dinner money.

I haven't got dinner money,
I bring a packed lunch.

Well, fuck that, then. I don't
want one of your homemade
fucking feta parcels.

I presume you
need to bollock me

for my disloyalty in doing
that New Statesmanthing,
so why don't we just...

I already have, this morning.
Were you not there?

I can't say I recall it.

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

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

We're lovers, deal with it.

I suppose the key question is:

is Dan Miller going to pull
the same stunt again?

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

He's crushed, he's just in
the shower,
crying, with his clothes on.

Dan? Dan Miller?

Yeah, Malcolm gave him
a right old "ker-chee".

He gave him a cash register?

No, that was me
cracking a whip, plainly.

Well, shame I missed that.
Where was... Where was this?

It was in the back stairwell.

Oh. Well, that's right by my
office. I mean, I'm surprised
I didn't hear that.

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

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

Well, it was sort of...

He did it in a lower-toned,
special kind of terrifying...

He calls it,
um, "whisperboarding".

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

But maybe we should
embrace this
point of no return.

Are you saying you agree
with what I wrote?

I'm saying that I spoke
to Nicola earlier to gauge
the fire in her belly

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

What's the worst
thing that he said?

Oh, well, he said,
"Fuck right off, you fucker."

Really? Well, I once used
the last teabag

and Malcolm pushed
me up against a wall

and called me Noncey Sinatra,
so that seems a bit tame.

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

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

Yeah, but he likes Dan.

So...

Did you need me?

Nope, nope.

(SIGHS)

-So,
your loyalty to Nicola is...
-Unwavering.

-Right up to the point that...
-Someone challenges her?

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

which will be easy for her,
because she does yoga.

No, we just need somebody
to hold her jacket

while she commits
political hara-kiri

and sweep in unopposed,
being careful not
to tread in the mess.

So you think...I
should challenge her?

What the fuck is this?
Tinker Tailor Soldier Cunt?

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

Yes.

Right. Well, she needs
to fuck off in eight months,

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

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

Now, let's get out of
this fucking cupboard

before Ben Swain comes in
for his lunchtime wank.

And I agree that
we no longer have the luxury,

the privilege of thinking
in the abstract
about politics.

How's Martina
Luther King doing?

It's like that
old show Faking It.

She's a shit politician
pretending to be... pretending
to be a mediocre one.

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

-Show me that text.
-It's an alert
telling me to tell you

to mind your own business.

-Show me the text.
-No. No, I'm not... Get off.

-Show me.
-No, get off.

It's a girl
sexting me, Malcolm.

Just practising for Strictly.

Get off my fucking...
Give me my fucking...

What is this tiny font?
Is it to match your
subatomic thoughts?

Give me my phone, Malcolm.
Give me my phone.

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

You want to know?
That's my friend
who works in Education.

The Government are
dropping the reforms

to the primary school
breakfast club policy.

Okay. Let's rewind
here a bit, stickman.

Nicola is about
to adopt a policy
that is so toxic

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

Yeah.

Shit in my porridge.
Get a dart gun
and go and fucking kill her.

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

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

The mechanics of
the leadership election
are not in place.

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

-Er...
-Go and piss in
a fuse box or something.

Finger a security guard.
I'll bundle her
out during the melee.

We need to stop
Nicola announcing now.

Rumour has it
that the Government

is going to drop
the breakfast club policy.

Shit. But just a rumour, yeah?

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

-you've got a signal, yeah?
-Er...

-We never agreed on one.
-You don't have
a fucking signal?

You must have a signal
from Hampstead Heath.

Um, didn't Nicola mention
something about iceberg

as in "you're going to crash
into an iceberg"?

Okay, yeah. How do I do that?
Oh, yeah. That's subtle.

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

And it's down...to us

to rise above
this and think...

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

-It's an upside-down uterus.
-Shut up, Olly!

...that we're endorsing
fully and unreservedly

a pay freeze
for the coastguard

and an end to
the ring-fencing of funds

to provide primary school
breakfast clubs.

We are in concurrence
with the Government

-because we are in unity...
-(TEXT ALERT BEEPING)

...with the British people.

Any questions?

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

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

(WHISPERING) Pretend
you heard another question.

Er, yes, yes. Er, we... Yes.

Breakfast really is a...

really is a meal
for the whole family.

Er... And, er,
I think that we
regard that as...

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

-I'm sorry?
-Undermining Nicola.

You're getting off on this.
You've got some
sort of agenda.

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

And don't flatter
yourself into thinking

that you can divine
my motives or actions.

You are a mouse in a maze.

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

you can't enjoy breakfast.

Plainly,
you can and you should,

because it's
the most
important meal of the day,

especially if
you've been fasting
during Eid.

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

I tried to warn you.

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

Iceberg.

Not to scale, obviously.
The iceberg you
were heading for

was much,
much bigger than that.

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

You see a triangle and the
first thing that comes to your
mind is hash brown?

No, it's...

-Bye-bye.
-Thank you.

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

Pyramid, the signal being...

Being everything's fine.

You know,
everybody likes pyramids.

(SIGHING)

Do we know why
the fuckers dropped it?

Even the Etonian
mess over at Number 10
has to acknowledge

that people hate the policy.

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

It is kind of the opposite
of Comic Relief.

Well, then you
should have stopped me.

You could have
created a diversion.
You could have gone in there

and set yourself on fire
or got your tits out,

shouted,
"Ooh, there's a big lion!"

I don't know. Just something.

Just anything rather than
leave me in there
committing career suicide

by starving small children.

And you, Malcolm,

the one time in my life
I would have been actually
pleased to see you.

Where the fuck were you?

Sorry.

Can you U-turn, maybe?

No! That was a U-turn.

If I do another U-turn,
it's an O-turn.

-Am I dead?
-No. No, no.

'Cause I feel like I'm dead.

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

and take 40 paracetamol.

No, don't worry.
Look,
we're all still Team Nicola.

We'll fight for you, won't we?

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

HELEN: Hold the wreath
in your right hand.

It's going to even
be heavier than this,
though, isn't it?

It's a practice wreath.
It will probably...
I haven't weighed them.

Down, two,
three, frown, two, three.
Up and walk backwards.

Just copy
the Queen if in doubt.

That's going to have to do.

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

(SIGHING) Yeah.

-Phone off.
-Ho ho.

-Helen given you
the Wreath Lecture?
-(SIGHS DEEPLY)

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

I couldn't eat breakfast,

I felt like I'd
personally ripped it out

of the hands
of some malnourished infant.

Stop it. Stop it.
The first rule
of Breakfast Club

is we do not talk about
Breakfast Club, right?

That's it for now.

It's not just that.
My head's full of bat.

Because of the hat?

-What?
-No, because of the...

-Does this look like a bat?
-No, I was going
to say it doesn't.

It doesn't, in fact, look
like a... It's more Mickey
Mouse, isn't it, the hat?

Or Minnie Mouse.
It's Minnie Mouse. Not bat.

-Fuck off, Olly.
-Okay.
Just wreath up that bad boy.

-Okay.
-Yeah.

Right.

(IMITATING SID WADDELL)
Oh, and the DPM is up next.

Firm grasp on
the wreath there.

He's aiming for the steps.

Top step!
And that is magic poppies.

(TV PLAYING
DRAMATIC CLASSICAL MUSIC)

Oh, here we go.

OLLY: She's flustered, though,
isn't she? That's the problem.

HELEN: She'll be fine.

Oh, my God.

Bollocking poppy-wank! What...
Why is she
hovering in the middle?

You're right.
She can't fucking walk.

BEN: I mean,
should we get
a pony to challenge her?

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

Sorry.

I don't understand
how you can get that wrong.

It's this. De-de-clonk.

HELEN:
She is officially a cenotwat.

Fabulous work, sister.
Bury her in a grave.

The unknown leader.

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

I just hope there
is no afterlife,

because if people fought
and died for this,

it is going to seem
even more ridiculously futile.

Why do you know so much
about horses, anyway?

I thought you were
raised by wolves.

First thoughts.
We're policy-jamming here.

ALL: Yes and ho.

Let's MacIntyre this.
Stand up.

I feel like
I've joined
the Scientologists.

Do you want to
have an ideagasm?

Yes, please.

She's some kind of economist,
apparently.

I think we're looking at
about two billion.

Ahem.

I quite like Emily Maitlis.

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

(SHOUTING)

Is this what we
came into politics for?

Yeah. That and the pussy.