All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S04e05.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

So have you seen this?

"Nicola Murray
is 'unelectable'."

-Today's the day?
-It's on.

It's on like Fat Pat's thong.

-Tickle's dead.
-What?

This is an emergency
situation, Nicola.

You have to bash
the Tickle button.

You need to call
for an inquiry, now.

That's why I'm
calling for an inquiry.

-I need to have that email.
-I'll do it.

I may have fleetingly
supported the policy myself.

So you've essentially
launched an investigation
into yourself?

I have decided to
stand down as leader.

Ding-dong,
the useless bitch is dead.

Oh, God, here we go.

REPORTER: Do you feel you've
been stabbed in the back,
Mrs Murray?

She won't be answering
any questions at this time.

REPORTER: Are you be backing
Dan Miller for leader?

Thank you all very much.

(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)

NEWSREADER: Nicola Murray,
now the former...

There she goes,
a tiebreaker in the making.

Who was Nicola Murray?
I'll have to hurry you, teams.

Farewell,
our shit and useless servant.

Yeah, at least Miller's
a step up from Murray.

He doesn't have to write
Left and Right on his wellies.

I need your attention
for 30 of your earth seconds.

-This is what will happen.
-What the fuck
is Stewart doing?

You will go to the Z drive.

You find a file entitled

"Miller's Ascension,
Whitehall Arab Spring."

Open, ingest, implement.

And after that,

-I expect both
of you, you two...
-Oh, fuck.

-...to get together...
-The man made of space hopper

is coming this way.

This is going to be
about the inquiry.

I'm thinking I
should resign now.

-What?
-No, you can't do that.

You're Aslan,
no one shaves your mane.

I'm not a fucking lion, Phil.

There's going to be an inquiry
into the death of a man

who died because of
a policy I signed off on.

We all know how
this is going to end.

I, I, I should take
the dignified way out.

No, you've missed
the dignified exit.

That was straight away,
basically.

Yeah.

The only silver
lining in today's
cloud of farts

is that another one of
Morecambe and Wise's policy
launches is ruined.

Are those the carers?
They don't look old enough.

EMMA: Free travel
passes or something.

It's another one
of Adam and Fergus's
Pop Up Book of Policies.

Peter Mannion,
lovely to meet you.
What vital work you do.

Peter,
I'd love to introduce you
to the carers...

I've just met them.

PETER: What's my plan?
I didn't resign

and now this inquiry's going
to nail me up like
fucking Barabbas.

Actually, he was the one they
let go. Shouldn't have,
he's a criminal.

Wait.

-We could...
We could wrong-foot Murray.
-Yeah, how?

You could push
for the inquiry to go wider.

Wider? That's mental.
We want to shut it down.

Shush! Just hear me out.

We can look into
the whole culture
of PFI procurement.

PHIL:
That is a good idea, really.

Fuck, that hurt to say,
but she's right

because Murray's husband's
involved in PFI

and he's as
dodgy as a Russian...
as a Russian.

EMMA:
We can backspin it, Peter,
it's good.

But, but...is... Is revenge
a mature response?

Let me think.
Yes, it is. Right.

Let's poke her in the PFIs.

STEWART: If you get
any channel problems,

just swing them past
the purple Power
Ranger over here.

Hello again.

Vital,
vital work, so proud of you.

Terri, I've got a job for you.

Oh, Peter, this is
all pretty
white-knuckle stuff, eh?

Is it getting
the old adrenaline pumping?

Assuming it can squeeze
past the port and stilton.

Shut the fuck up,
you prancing shit.

We need to widen the inquiry
into Mr Tickle's death

to include
the issue of PFI contracts.

Great. Okay, I'm just working
on Fergus's Carers
Pass press release...

Oh, good. Could you fuck that
to one side for the moment

and concentrate on this? Yeah.

Let's slip into neutral
for a moment here, Peter.

We haven't got a green light
from the PM yet,

so let's not hit
the accelerator.

Here's another way
of looking at it.
Let's. Goodbye.

So, are we heading home?

No, back to the office.

Oh, really?

There are lots of people there
who've worked
incredibly hard for me.

They're going
to want to see me
to say a proper goodbye.

Of course.
Yeah, I'm sure that's true.

Oh, Christ,
there's that fucking chop!

-You've been chopped,
Mrs Murray.
-(NICOLA LAUGHS)

How does it
feel to be chopped?

You're a little bit late,
actually, Mr Chop.

You've had your chips.

(LAUGHS)

That is precisely why
I didn't let you
go to The One Show.

Olly, for God's sake, pick up.
I've had it.

I'm coming in from the cold.

I'm recrossing the floor.

Oh, Glenn.
So, these are the carers.

-This is Jack.
-Hello, Jack.

-And this is Rohinka.
-I'm really
sorry for your loss.

Mannion's called
for a PFI inquiry.

Oh, that's going to put
the cats among the pussies.

We need to show that
we were never in favour of PFI

and that we never approved
of the sell-off of
key worker housing.

-However...
-In a way that doesn't make us

look like dicks
for not saying so at the time

or shits for saying so now.

You know, we don't
have much time, so...

Well, let's just bin
the Carers Pass launch.
Just bin it.

It's the Spring Conference
in two weeks,
the Dungaree Jubilee.

That... That kind of stuff
is exactly what
the conference fucking needs.

And we've been
here for three years
and we've done fuck all.

Well,
we haven't done fuck all...

No, no, seriously,
I mean, think about it.

In that time,
Apple have launched
two iPhones, three iPads

-and their boss is
a fucking dead guy.
-Yeah.

Let's just push it
till the end of the day.

Okay, we'll push it
near the end of the day,

but you know the... Robyn.

-Hello, Robyn, how are you?
-That, in fact is my name.

Take a seat.

Yeah,
I know it's your name because

it was at the top
of a redundancy list
that I've just looked at.

Right,
stop rolling around naked
in the headlines.

Blind Man's
Crumpet's on the way up.

If you're going to film her
on your phones,

try not to make it obvious.
And no smiling.

Not even a wee fucking
Anne Robinson, right?

The look we're going for
should be solemn respect.

You know,
like blokes
modelling underpants.

Oh, hang on.
Mannion's calling
for a wider inquiry.

-He's what?
-He's trying to drag you in,

shift the focus
to the PFI conflict
with your husband's company.

No! No, no, no, no, no!

Fuck! What do I do?
What do I do? What do I do?

Go up there and smile,
for starters.

Yes, Dan! Dan, Dan can put
the lid on this, can't he?

Of course he can,
because he is
actually quite good.

MALCOLM:
I'm probably going to get
quite emotional,

might get quite teary

if I can find an onion
or something to
pluck my pubes.

-Robert.
-Yes, sir.

I want you to get over
to Fatty's, right?

Make sure he's not hiding
a leadership
challenge from me.

Frisk him if necessary,
all 300 of his folds.
Get to it.

I will do some small-talk,
best wishes stuff,

and then I'll just casually
bring up the inquiry.

Oh, no! No, no, no, I should
cut straight to the inquiry,
shouldn't I?

Oh, fuck, I don't
know how to play this.

Erm...

(SIGHS)

This is why
they got rid of me, isn't it?

-No. No.
-Isn't it?
This is it. This is it.

-No, there were other reasons.
-Fuck.

Come on, let's go.

(DEEP BREATH) Seat
of the pants airways.

Are you smiling?
I can't see your face.

Make sure you're smiling.

Oh, here she comes.
Yes, hello.

(ALL APPLAUDING)

Ha,
thank you, thanks very much.

I hope you're not clapping
because I've gone.

(LAUGHS)

Erm, seriously, I feel,
over the past two years,

I've,
erm, given it my best shot.

And I'm quite sure
that my successor,

whoever he or she may be,

will achieve
the victory that...
that this country badly needs.

I've got some, some very, er,

strong memories
from working here

and I'll, erm, I'll keep those
with me forever.

So, thank you, guys.

Thank you.
Thanks a lot. Thank you.

Erm... Oh,
thank you, thanks so much.

Thanks for everything.
(WHISPERS) Dan!

It feels a bit odd for me
to add to your speech

but I will be
tweeting a tribute later.

Oh, that's nice, thank you.

I was just
wondering if I, erm...

if we could just
have a private word
in my office?

In your...
Well, in this office.

Erm... Yeah.

Yes? Great, thank you.

Oh! (CHUCKLES)

Oh! (LAUGHS)

I don't know where to sit.

I, er...

Actually, I'll just grab

one of those.

This inquiry, you know,
it's not really necessary now,

so if you want to say that,
I'll just back down.

An inquiry
wouldn't be a bad thing.

A clean break with the past
in the minds of
the electorate.

Well, I mean, the electorate,
you know, like me. (CHUCKLES)

Quite a lot of them
voted me leader, so...

But you only beat
me on a technicality.

Yeah.
I mean, the thing is, Dan,
you know, pragmatically,

I'm now a party grandee...

Malcolm, this is
a private conversation.

You are not a grandee,
you're a fucking blandee.

No one knew what
the fuck you stood for.

Political fucking mist.
No substance, no weight.

You've got all the charm
of a rotting teddy
bear by a graveside.

By the way,
women fucking hate you.

I can show you the polling.

They think you come across
like a jittery
mother at a wedding.

The best thing you ever did
in your flat
lining non-leadership

was call for an inquiry,

because that will
fuck the government
and it will fuck you.

So now, please,
just fuck off
back to your home,

you headless frump,

and prepare for
your column in Grazia.

Steady on,
Malcolm, that's a bit strong.

Come on, let's go.

Okay, you, well...

You just need to know
that you have absolutely

fucking done it now, Malcolm,

because you are about
to find out what it feels like

to have me
pissing into your tent.

Well, you know what? Your piss
will never fucking
make it into my tent

because by some unforeseen
Nicola-Murray-shaped fiasco,

like every fucking
Nicola-Murray-shaped fiasco

I've had to deal with
for the last two years,

you'll end up blowing
your own fucking stream

into your own fucking face.

There's your golden handshake.

Finished?

You're finished.

We'll see.

Right, well, thanks, Dan.
Think about what I said.

Also might want to think about
the fact there should be

an apostrophe in "its".

Illiterate fuckers.

What did Dan say
about the inquiry?

Fucking Dan is just a...

He's basically just a bent
dummy with Malcolm's hand
shoved up his arse.

Fucking...

-All right, just calm down.
-Bastards.

-Do you want
some Rescue Remedy?
-No.

Do you want me to
send for some noodles?

No,
I don't want fucking noodles.

I just...

Oh, God.

I just...
I just want a fucking break.

HELEN: Hmm.

I think we both need to think
about where we're at.

You know,
trajectory and so on.

(LAUGHS)

Bollocks.

I don't want you, I just

didn't want everybody to go
on the same day, that's all.

I'm fine.
I've got me from here.

-Box.
-Box.

Fucking box.

Bingo.
We just need to leak it.

You saying,
"Key worker housing sell-off

"is possibly the worst idea
since
the invention of theatre."

Does that give us
enough distance from Mannion?

Oh, yeah. This is
your Get Out Of Jail Free card

strapped to a fucking jetpack.

We just need to leak it.

Yeah,
well, obviously it can't look
like it came from us.

Maybe it's time to bring
Glenn back into the hub.

He's been out on a limb
since punk, hasn't he?

-Thousand-year-old
Glenn Fiddich?
-Yeah.

Fucking perfect,
he'll love it.

Olly, look,
I'm feeling very exposed here.

I've got my cock out,
it's covered in bread crumbs

and the fucking
pigeons are circling.

Look, please,
just, just ring me back.

Mr Cullen.

We would like you to leak...

Wow! This.

Don't worry,
nothing major, just an email

that puts a bit of distance
between Fergus and
the Tickle affair.

What, I go from being
a turnip to a leak?

Still a fucking vegetable
to you, though, eh?

You want to bring Mannion down
a peg or 12, don't you, Glenn?

Yes, of course I do.

The up-his-arse
Kensington Butcher.

Well,
this is the cyanide capsule

we'd like you to break
into his afternoon brandy.

This is it, Glenn.

You're off the bench,
back on the pitch

to score the golden goal
in extra time.

Come on, mate!

Pick it up.

Fuck it, why not? I'll do it.

Good man. Thank you.

-I don't need to
shake your hand.
-All right.

Touchy but not feely.

Just go,
I'll just have a look at it.

You are
a brilliant bullshitter.

Yeah, well, two years
doing press for npower,
it never leaves you.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Hello, Malcolm.

Are you telling me he's still
in the fucking bar...
Sorry, excuse me.

Ho, hello. Charlie Bucket.
Hang on a sec.

Tell him to get out
of the fucking bar

or I will come along
and personally set fire to
the whisky-soaked bastard.

Hey, hey! You're missing
all the excitement.

Yeah, no, no, I've been
following
developments on Sky News,

where they have actually
stitched Dan Miller's head
to Usain Bolt's body.

Yes, well, get in a cab
and get over here right now.

What, me?
You want me over there?

Of course I want you here.

You are now my right-hand man.

Is this one of those jokes
where I turn up and you go,

"Ha ha ha, my right hand,
that's what I use
for wiping my arse"?

Well, that's a risk
you're just going
to have to take.

All right, well, as soon as
I'm signed off
by a consultant...

Oh, who cares about the
opinion of some golf-obsessed
prick in a bowtie?

Just scoop your guts up
and put them in
a fucking wheelbarrow

and come over.

Love you, too.

(GRUNTS)

Robyn, Carers Pass
is timed out, yeah?

Bundle the Munchkins out of
the building,
get them in tomorrow.

Right. So, can we get them
something for their travel?

Well,
thanks to the Carers Pass,
they get free travel.

But it hasn't come in yet.

So, no.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Erm, it looks like
we're not going to
launch the Carers Pass today

but we were wondering,

could you come back
at the same time tomorrow?

-I... I don't know. Erm...
-Have you got anything on?

I mean, you know,
apart from the full-time
round-the-clock medical care

of your families?
(LAUGHS UNCOMFORTABLY)

-Aha! It's His Ollyness.
-Hello.

Olly, whose initiation rite

into our little cabal
of shitty devils here

will be to go
over and visit Fatty

-and to present
him with this...
-Okay.

...as a means of getting him
to shelve his ludicrous
leadership ambitions.

-Show him this.
-Ugh!

Jesus, Malcolm,
you could have left
it in an envelope.

Okay, come on, everybody,
let's get to it.

I want Dan to wake up
to the news that any
opposition is Brian Jones.

-Meaning?
-It's dead in the water.

Right.

Could you?

Glenn.

What are you
doing at my computer?

I'm just doing
Bradford & Bingley
a favour.

I'm bringing down Mannion
by leaking an email.

A leak?
Coming from my computer?
No. No, get off, get off.

Take that...the whatever it is
out of the...whatever it is.

Take it. Out.

No one will think it's you.
Nobody leaks from
their own computer.

Look, you do this for me
and I'll make sure

that you get the full
severance package,

no questions asked,
with full pension.

-And a lump sum?
-Yeah. I guess, yeah.

The thing is,
Glenn, I've got my eye
on a tea shop near Ludlow.

Without a lump sum,
no tea shop, no can do.

Okay, right. This can go
straight to
Geoffrey at The Guardian.

-Okay, yeah.
-Right?

-Can we do it together?
Please?
-What?

Just your hand on mine and
my hand on yours,
just do it together.

-Like, erm...
-Butch Cassidy and
the Sundance Kid.

Yes, okay.

-Not that I'm
saying you're butch.
-No, of course not.

BOTH: One, two, three.

Just send the email.

Ah, Team Peter.

Come on, guys, let's take
a little imagination stroll

through
a virtual inquiry, yeah?

Oh, dear God,
not another
whiteboard session.

I've, I've got
a note from my mother,
I have a verruca.

Just want to get
an overview, Peter, yeah?

A helicopter shot
of where we currently are.

Who's most to blame
in the blame garden.

Okay, the onion is PFI.
Let's peel back some layers.

Murray resignation,
how do we feel about that?

What's Tickle's M records?

Medical,
it's his leaked
medical records.

Leaked? I, I, I thought
they were common knowledge.

Well, they are now
because they have been leaked.

Did you know about this?

Well, yeah, Number 10 knew
so I knew, yeah.

What about you?

Yeah, I thought Tickle
leaked them himself.

Who would voluntarily leak
their own medical records?

You'd have to be
mad to do that.

He was mad,
that's precisely
what his records said.

Exactly. You know,
he was a male nurse.

That's not just mad,
that's mental.

Oh, Phil!
Did the last 30 years
only happen to other people?

Why didn't I know about this?
Leaking medical
records is illegal.

Well, I, I, I...
Now I look guilty
and incompetent.

-Ah! Peter, incompetent.
-Look! Don't write that down!

I'm not on your sodding onion.

What is GFU? Good for us. Mmm?

Oh, shit with a capital shit.

-We've got to go.
-Great.

Hey, no, no, no, no, no. Sit.

The Guardianhave received
an email from Fergus.

Actually, do you know,
strike that,
a chain of emails.

Oh...perfect,
with all of our comments
about Mr Tickle underneath.

Oh, God, not, not the one
where we all piled in with
the Mister Men jokes?

-Yes, yes. That one, Phil.
-STEWART: Oh, you kid me.

-I kid you not!
-Oh, my giddy fuck.

They've leaked all
the bloody emails.

"Mr Tickle sounds like
a gropey clown
at a kids' party."

I can't see.
Can I make it bigger?

Go to "settings".

"Poor ickle Mr Tickle,
perhaps he's mentally sickle."

-Must be Fergus.
-Is this "settings"?

Oh, I think I've just taken
a picture of my feet.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Yep?

What? Where?

Well, well, I don't know.
Okay, rugby tackle him or,
er, or tase him.

Gaffer tape him to a seat.
He can't come up here.

Er, Glenn is in reception.

Hoddle?
Miller? Close? Morangie?

Cullen.
Glenn Cullen is in reception.

-Glenn?
-Yeah.

Why are you even fucking
telling me that?

When the Queen's butler finds
a cockroach in the pantry,

-he just stamps on it.
-Yes.

She doesn't even know.

Okay, okay, I'll go
and stamp on the cockroach.

NEWSREADER: ...full inquiry
into the whole
culture of leaking...

Sam. Sam!

Get me Stewart
Pearson on the phone.

Olly! Shouldn't you be in bed?

Shouldn't you not be here?

Whoa, stop, stop, stop. Whoa.
You can't go up there.

No, I have to.
I can't go back over there.

It's like Alien vs. Predator.

-I want back in! Here!
-Yes. Listen,

everybody is tremendously
appreciative of
what you've done.

-It was a noble sacrifice.
-What do you mean, sacrifice?

I thought we had a deal.

"Sacrifice"
sounds very one-sided.

Yeah, well,
"piss off" sounds one-sided
but there we go...

-Hey, Malcolm...
-Fucking...

Why is he still here?
Can you not
perform a simple task?

When there is
a shit on your doorstep,
you hose it off.

-Right.
-You don't try to talk it

into leaving of
its own volition.

I got rid of Nicola for you,
you owe me.

-I owe you?
-Yeah.

Your act of treachery
wiped the slate clean.

Rudolf Hess's fucking
senile older brother.

Look, I know you
think I screwed up,

but I came here
on my hands and knees,
Malcolm.

You...my friend,
you don't exist
to me any more.

I can't even fucking hear you.

Do you want me to beg?
Is that it?

Because I... Because I will.

Listen,
Mary Queen of fucking Shits,

in the old days, we would've
just slit you up the middle

like a fucking Cornish pasty,

hanged your steaming entrails
all around
the Tower of fucking London.

Catch you later,
you fucking traitor!

-Sam, what is it?
-A call from Stewart Pearson.

Stewart Pearson.
I'm the fucking
wanker's lodestone today!

Stewart.
Yes, the goatee-bearded
guru-boy of Company B.

It's a no, Glenn.

Yeah, Malcolm, can this wait?
Hmm?

Word is the PM's considering
an inquiry into
the culture of leaking.

No, no. Do you really think
he's going to invite everyone

into our complex network
of secret little burrows?

Open up the whole
of Watership Down?

Okay, Bright Eyes.
I'm massively
fucking reassured.

Look, you may as well have
an inquiry into gravity.

Now, I have to go, Malcolm,

because I've got like
a whole country
to govern, yeah?

Could I use your pass
to go to the loo again?

The thing is,
if my swipe
card's being monitored,

then it's either going to look
quite like I'm skiving

or I've got
a bladder condition.

The primary thing
I want to say
first and foremost

is that you can't blame me
for this, Peter.

Look, if anything,
it's the culture of blame

that's to blame for this.

Great to see you again.
Such crucial work you do.

Meeting room!

Right, sit down!
I can't resign.

-EMMA: No.
-And I'm not going to resign.

I had the perfect
moment to resign,
which was right early on,

when I could have resigned
in a dignified and
Statesman-like way,

and you both
advised me not to resign.

So now I can't resign.

-Good.
That's good. That's good.
-You shouldn't resign, Peter.

What, what's going
to happen is this.
One of you has got to go.

I want both of you to give me
reasons why you
shouldn't resign.

Er, because...because
I'm a, a Special Advisor

to a...senior
cabinet minister.

That's a job description,
Philip.

-That's a job description.
-That's not a reason,

-that's just your job...
-I am...

...from which I'm asking you
why you shouldn't resign.

I...know...everything
about you.

I am a, a world expert
in, in, in Peter Mannion,

from, er, PIN number
to inside leg measurement.

I, I,
I'm there, erm, you know...

-What's his
inside leg measurement?
-Thirty-four.

I've given you everything,
Peter, you can't...

I mean,
I don't have anything else,
that's the point.

I don't,
I don't have any friends,
I don't have any life,

I haven't had
sex for five years
and I don't even enjoy it,

so I'm not going to
get anyone pregnant.

I'm never going to get
anyone pregnant, okay?

You know,
I'm fucking seedless.

Whereas she's just, just
a fucking baby bomb, okay?

-Phil, you are just a...
-And she's going to go off

all over the office and,
and leave you.

-I'm going to be here.
-I'm sorry, I'm sorry,

-but my good name
is at stake here.
-PETER: Oh, Christ.

Peter, you must understand.
I am an innocent woman.

I'm the DoSAC One.

That's it, I've had enough!
I've had enough of all of you.

You're all shit,
I'm going to sort
it out by myself.

Did you hear that?

I can't bear that
you think about me like this.

-Don't follow me, Terri.
-Please.

-Stop following me.
-I insist.
I insist. Peter, please.

All right, Terri, I admit it,
I'm in love with you.

Now fuck off
back to your office
and organise the wedding.

-Mannion goes Mel Gibson.
-Spot it.

-You know,
you know what you've done?
-Yeah?

You,
you, you have bought a fan,
you plugged it in,

you turned it on,
you turned
the dial up to maximum.

It wasn't a weak fan,
it wasn't one of
those office fans.

I was a Dyson.
And I stood
the other side of it.

-Did a liquid shit on it.
-Trousers down.

And where did the shit go?

(IMITATES EXPLOSION)

All over Mannion.

(MOBILE CHIMES)

-That's just priceless.
-Fuck, hang on.

-What?
-Erm,
check the fucking emails.

What are you talking about?

What the fuck did
you give to Glenn?

-Well, it was just the email,
just...
-Yeah, but it's the whole...

-We're on the email.
-Oh, fucking hell.

-Wha...
Why did you, why did you...
-No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

...why did you, why did you
leave us on the,
on the dongle?

Because he's only
supposed to send
the fucking top part of it.

Why did you give
him the choice?

Because an email has a chain,
Fergus, it has a fucking chain

that goes all the way down.

Adam, there is now
shit all over me!

-Oh, Jesus Christ!
-How come there is shit on me?

Thanks, Adam!

Look,
it's not my fucking fault!
He's supposed to redact it!

I just wanted one solid shit,
to go in one direction!

Not madras,
fucking everywhere!

Alastair? Yeah, it's, er,
it's Peter Mannion.

I just wanted
to give you a nudge on this.

The real story here isn't
all this jokey email nonsense,

it's that Mr
Tickle's medical records
were illegally acquired.

Yeah.

He's been
the victim of Mr Blag.

Okay, bye.

Hi. I just, er...needed a pen.

Would you like a pen
as a small recompense

for the vital,
vital work that you do?

I'll tell you
what I'd like, Peter.

I'd like
a departmental in ten.
Regarding leakage.

And as of now,
your department's in lockdown.

No emailing,
no Diving Bell
and Butterflying,

no communication, nada!

Just a little piece
of electric paper, that's all.

I mean, off the record,

there are a number of machines
that emails can be set to.

Why would I know
anything about this email?

Why me? Thank you.

(PHONE RINGING)

Comms. Off the phones, now.

I think I've just
perjured myself.

Can you perjure
yourself on the phone
or is it only a court thing?

I'm so sorry for the delay.
I promise it
won't be much longer.

And that's not
a political promise,

that's a real promise.
(LAUGHS)

Hey! 2,000-year-old man!

Why the fuck
did you send the whole email?
Huh?

You were
supposed to redact it,
send the top email,

not the whole
fucking exchange!

Jesus Christ on
a crystal meth binge!

Terri and I sent
what you gave me.

Terri? Why the fuck...

The only reason
I'd ever ask Terri for help

is to shoot me
if I ever ask Terri for help!

Same reason you gave it to me.
Distance.

Two people!
Twice the distance!

Terri doesn't give us
any distance!

Terri gives me a twitch!
Right here!

Yeah, laugh it up, Glenn.
But I've got
a twitch called Terri!

I'm actually here, you know.

Yeah, and that, in a nutshell,
is the whole fucking problem!

* Fuck you very much *

Five minutes, guys, yeah?

Thanks.

Glenn, what about my tea shop?

It got closed.
There's been a murder.

NEWSREADER:
...that there will
be a full inquiry...

OLLY: An inquiry
into all of leaking.
All of leaking.

We are so...
We are so screwed.

He's done it.

That chinless horse fiddler,

our fucklustrious PM
has opened
Pandora's fucking Box

and curled
a massive
steamer right into it.

In the time it has taken for
Terri to extract herself
from a Bluetooth,

this little inquiry has fused.

It is now growing faster
than the speed
of bloody light!

It's not going to be
something that we
can see from space,

it's going to be space!

Brian Cox is going to phone me
and ask for the film rights!

But what leak, what leak,
what fucking leak?

Anything! If I find out that
anyone from here
has leaked anything,

I will make sure
they have to
emigrate after this

to a country
where they don't speak English

and there's no internet!

But every, everyone who leaked
anything, that would fill
the fucking Caspian Sea.

We're just a drop
in the ocean here.

No,
no, no, what you are, Peter,
is leak zero.

It started here.

You have presided over
a shambolic showering of info.

Peter Mannion,
Singing in the Rain!

(MOBILE RINGING)

Oh, Christ.

-Hello, Malcolm.
-Right, was this your idea?

Because I don't remember
signing any suicide pact.

Malcolm, look,
I'm as shocked
about this as you are.

Yes, you sound really shocked,
you big fucking spunk lolly.

Yeah, look, I don't even know
what that is.

But I, you know, I think we
all need time to,
to process this data, yeah?

-What the fuck is going on?
-All right, Fergus.

What the fuck is going on?

The Ark has been opened.
And your face
is going to melt.

There's going
to be an inquiry.

Have I just
stepped through a portal
into a sausage machine?

Because this is making
mincemeat of my head.

It's the end of
the world as we know it.

To paraphrase
a popular
fucking Bangles song.

It was, erm... It was R.E.M.

Don't start contradicting me
on that kind of shit.

Okay, Robyn, it's over to you.
It's show time.

Let's just give it
another five minutes.

You know, there's still
a blogger from
The Huffington Postto come.

Is that it?
It looks like
a paedophile's funeral.

It doesn't matter.
We've gotta get
out of here ASAP.

Leaking is
a fundamental component
of our governmental system.

If a government can't leak,
do you know what happens?

Dark shit builds up

and then it bursts.

And that's something
you don't want to see.

You think your
appendix was bad!

Hi, and welcome
to the launch of,
er, of Carers Pass.

You know, we thought long and
hard about how in
these straitened times

we could help those
who don't help themselves,

but rather help others.

Please give it
up for The Carers.

This is the gift
that's going to
go on giving, believe you me.

So you'd better
keep your head down.

And I don't mean just when
you're frequenting your
favourite glory holes.

Yeah, well...
Whereas your closet is
completely free of skeletons,

isn't it, Malcolm? 'Cause
you've buried them in
a landfill in Essex.

(WHISPERING)

Oh, yeah, sorry.
And just to say
that we're very proud

to say that, er, er, this,
this policy

has been pushed
through by our party.

We do have
a voice...in this coalition
and it, it is being heard.

When this inquiry lands,
you'd better have
developed a very flat,

stony face with no expression.

But that'll be easy for you.
It's your fucking
come face, isn't it?

Hi, my name's Rohinka.

Okay.
Listen, when they dry up,
just jump in, do a quick Q&A

and wrap it up, yeah?

Who am I, fucking Kirsty Wark?

No.

ROHINKA:
...lead a normal life,

so this,
this, this Carers Pass
is, is, is a blessing, really.

I, Peter Mannion...

Stewart Pearson...

-Fergus Williams...
-Adam Kenyon...

Emma Florence Messinger...

Philip Bartholomew
Cornelius Smith...

Theresa Jessica Coverley...

Robyn Murdoch...

-Glenn Cullen...
-Oliver Francis Reeder...

Nicola Alison Murray...

I, Malcolm Tucker,
do sincerely
declare and affirm

that the evidence I shall give
will be the truth,

the whole truth
and nothing but the truth.

Thank you.