All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S04e07.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

Tell them we may comment
on this police arrest backlog.

Yeah,
but we do need to coordinate
that with the Home Office.

Yeah,
we're on duel commentary.
Yeah, like the tennis.

Yeah,
sadly without Boris Becker.

I'm very surprised
that Sue Barker doesn't
just sink her teeth

into his thighs, aren't you?

Okay, team,
we need to get it out there
that the police arrest backlog

is not a DoSAC FUBAR. Okay?

The Home Office cut paperwork,
therefore there are more
bobbies on the beat,

no one to process
them at the stations.

I doubt there are
any major
criminals on the loose.

It's about paperwork,
it's not Con Air.
I mean, I wish it was.

-Give that to Peter.
-Oh, good morning, Minister.

-How did it go with the DPM?
-(SIGHS)

Oh, so that good.
I've got to go.

Anyone read Wolf Hall?

I'm just shuttling messages
between them.

I'm like
a blue-bottomed fly, frankly.

Ah! From Fergus.

It's the one set on a plane.

No, that's Snakes on a Plane.

This one is
Nicholas Cage on a plane.

(PHONE RINGING)

PHIL: (SIGHS) Heaven's sake!

(PHONE RINGING)

Look, Phil. Every
petty criminal in the country
is in a holding pattern

because that barrel of cocks
at the Home Office

can't process their arrests
quick enough.

So why am I the one who has to
gimp himself out all day

to Martha
Kearney and Eddie Mair?

Because since the inquiry,
DoSAC looks toxic and weak,

and they're just trying
to pile all the government's
ills on top of us.

Whose fault's that, Phil?

I've said I'm sorry
about the inquiry, okay?

I started writing you a letter
but it, it,
it just seemed pretentious.

Look, if it's any consolation,
I haven't felt that humiliated

since my trunks fell down
at the school swimming gala.

It's of absolutely
no consolation to think of you
naked in front of 500 boys.

Yeah, absolutely, Trevor.
Okay, yeah, drinks soon.
Yeah, you, too.

(LAUGHS) Okay, bye.

Oh, God! I just
felt my ovaries cringe.

I'm trying to flirt our way
out of this police backlog.

Peter, quick reminder.
ThinkSocially,
the social enterprise scheme.

-We're launching it tomorrow.
-Sod that.

I need to keep a low profile.
Give it to Fergus and Adam.

Sorry, Han, can I just put you
on pause there?

-I'm just in
the Minister's office.
-Oh, great!

Oh, no, the proper one!
(LAUGHS)
Just pausing you there.

Mary Drake from
the Home Office.

She's going to come over,
fancies a chat.

But I told old iron
blouse that I'd talk
to her presently.

What part of that sentence
doesn't she understand?

TERRI: Just thought
you'd like to know.

I don't want to
be accused of being
a barricade or anything.

ALL: Blockage.

Look, things were said
at that inquiry, Terri.

They certainly were.

Yeah, well, can you just
be a fucking professional
and get Fergus in here?

I am
an F-wording professional.

Wait, wait, Terri. Can you

give this to Fergus
and tell him he's going to
front ThinkSocially tomorrow?

Ah. Yeah, okay.
Er, erm, Peter, may I just...

No, you may not.

I thought we weren't talking
to The Proclaimers?

We have to play
happy families for Mary,
pretend I don't actually want

to strangle Fergus's bollocks
so they look
like glace cherries.

-Sorry. Can, can I...
-Christ,
you just can't flush her.

(SOFTLY) Can I borrow her?

Yeah, but there's a fine
if you don't bring her back.

Actually, it should be a fine
if you do bring her back.

Ever since this inquiry,

Mannion and Fergus, their
communication has
totally broken down.

Yes, which is why we have
the, the double-stamp system.

-Yeah but...
-No decisions
without dual approval.

-What...
-Occasionally, just because of

a time-sensitive decision,
I have got a stamp from Peter

but unfortunately been unable
to locate Fergus.

Okay, Terri,
let's just fast-forward
to the bit

where I don't want to eat
my own lips off.

In order to prevent a Fergal
paper jam, I have stamped
certain decisions

based on what I
imagined he might think.

So, so you have approved
a policy that Fergus
is going to launch,

that Fergus
knows nothing about.

-Sort of.
-Sort of, or sort of exactly?

Sort of exactly.

You are telling me that
you have been running parts
of this country, Terri.

What the fuck are
you trying to do,
prove the Mayans right?

Ha! Dear Jim, please could you
fix it for me

for two departments to fuck up
on the same day?
Yes, I can. (LAUGHS)

So this
government arrest backlog
is a really lovely gift token.

Mmm.

The question is
what does Daddy buy with it?

Uh, you, the daddy man,
er, you could...

How about you
point up the split
between the HO and DoSAC?

Take the sort of
"a Government divided?" route.

Nice, hmm.

Meanwhile, an unarrested feral
underclass has gone Mad Max

and police station
waiting rooms are heaving like
the hedgehog carvery

at a gypsy wedding.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Oh, I do apologise, excuse me.
I need to take this.

-We need to drop Malcolm.
-Right.

I can't get on my high horse
about crime issues

the day after my Director
of Communications may have,

i.e. definitely has,
committed perjury.

-Mmm.
-And I like
getting on my high horse.

I look good on it.
Like a knight.

So, they're actually going
to pursue this?

Right.
Thanks for the heads-up,
mate, yeah.

Listen, I need
a police station with a lot of
exits and entrances,

in case the press show up.

(WHISPERING) Sam. Sam, Sam.

Brentford, right, okay.
Listen, Sam.

Get ahold
of Greg Fraser for me.

I need some hard lawyering,
yeah?

-Pink.
Pink flowers. For my mother.
-Pink.

It's her 80th birthday.
Lovely big
bouquet of pink ones.

Lovely.
How, how are you doing?

I'm bitching. Yes, I'm as busy
as a two-twatted hooker.

Great.
I, I was thinking, Malcolm,

maybe you should
take a bit of time off,

just, you know, maybe tour
the Highland distilleries

or whatever it is
your people do. You know,
take up stunt kiting.

Well, we don't take advice
from a guy who looks like

he gels his hair
by sticking it
up a cow's vagina.

-All right, fair enough.
-Here's an idea

that you could pitch
to Millertron 3000.

Yes?

Get him to go to
a police station, yeah?

-But pick a big one, right?
-Right.

Lewisham. It's more impact
with a big one

but make sure we get
as many press there
as possible.

Yeah, okay.

Dan Miller is
visiting a police station.

What? Why?
Why aren't I
visiting a police station?

-Why didn't you think of that?
-Yes,
why didn't you think of that?

I did. I nearly did, okay?
I, I was
about to think of that.

Christ, it's like Harry Potter
all over again.

You know, I thought of that.
I just didn't write it down.

It was Gandalf at school,
but it's the same principle.

Look, Fergus has got an idea
about the police backlog,
just tell him.

Yeah, I'm going to.
It is basically an issue
of manpower, so we outsource,

we get the private
sector in to clear
it up. It's problem solved.

It's obvious, really.

Yeah, yeah. Yes, it...
Yes, it is obvious.

That's two obvious things
you've missed today.

-Idiot!
-Yeah,
well, what do you think?

No, I think it's good.
I mean, the private sector
dives in and saves us.

-It plays well for us.
-FERGUS: Oh, thank you.

Yeah. Till we,
till we get the bill.

Because we've got no money.
Anyway, I'm just popping
out to Tesco Metro.

-Anyone want a yoghurt?
-No, Glenn. No.

Ah, Peter. This War
of the Roses with
the Home Office? It ends now.

We want a united realm.
There's no vision in division.

Well, yes, there is.
Anyway, tell Perkin
Warbeck over there.

Okay, people, could we
briefly form a coherent group?

Mary Drake is in the building.
She's on her way up.

Okay, shields up, guys.
Centurions,
we're forming a tortoise.

Okay, Terri. ThinkSocially.
Did I sign off on this?

Because I hadn't
heard of ThinkSocially
until I said it just then.

-Okay, er...
-So what is it?

-Simple explanation.
-Love to hear it.

TERRI: Yeah. Very...
PETER: Oh, God, here's Mary.

Bunch up, everyone,
so she doesn't
see the corpses.

Look,
synchronise lies, all right?
Mary, hi.

Hi, Emma,
we met at the away day.

I so enjoyed our,
our mood play.

Yes,
you actually did, didn't you?

Oh, you must be
the legendary Terri.

-(TERRI LAUGHS)
-I've heard
a great deal about you.

Oh, oh, please, don't, er,
don't believe
everything that you hear.

I fully intend not to.

Stewart. Chakras balanced?

Er, sorry.
Tiny bit of housekeeping.

Terri, erm, ThinkSocially?

-Just checking in on that.
-Yes.

Yes, it's a go thing.
Double-stamped, yes.

Mary. Great to see you again.

I'm here in an angry capacity.

Ah! The cream in
our coffee, Mary.

The message from
the Home Office
is this:

Move away from the backlog.
There's nothing to see.

Let the police do their jobs,
let us do ours.

-Sorry to be,
er, contrary, Mary...
-(LAUGHING)

...but Peter and
I have just been
discussing this very issue.

MARY: Shut up.

Let me tell you something now.

DoSAC is one
rat's whisker away
from being shut down

and subsumed
by the Home Office

and put in charge
of cocking up the tea run!

And I like mine
weak and white.
Like my men.

Stewart,
any thoughts from within
your fucking dream yurt?

I will go and try
and de-frag this situation,

but I am staying
strictly macro.

Subtitles. You need subtitles!

Sorry, erm, ThinkSocially.
Terri, would
you mind explaining rationally

why I appear to
be giving a ringing
endorsement to a piece of shit

that I've never even heard of?

It's not my fault.
It's
the double-stamping nonsense.

-That's the reason.
-Oh, really?

-Yeah.
-Because right now,

I want to double-stamp
on your fucking throat.

I'm going to
take that seriously
as a physical threat.

You know,
one of the many, many things
that baffles me about you

is you remain unmurdered!

-What time are we
due at the Mirror?
-Oh, not for another hour.

Oh, okay.

Got plenty of time to get
into your Boudica mode.

-I am woman, hear me roar!
-(CHUCKLES)

Get your jugs out.
Get on your chariot. (LAUGHS)

Oh, crikey.

I think given that I'm hoping
to get back into
cabinet at some point,

I might keep
my jugs in the cupboard.
(LAUGHS)

Right.

Or I suppose I could always
pop one of them out if
the interview's flagging.

It's an option. (CHUCKLES)

Erm,
I did apologise, didn't I,
for telling you to fuck off?

-Yes.
-Good.

Because I,
you know, I didn't mean it.

I wouldn't be here
if I thought you meant it.

I've got plenty of places
to fuck off to.

That's a big
funeral home, isn't it?

-M Tucker.
-Olly.

-Malcolm.
-We need to
have a little chat.

You're not
splitting up with me,
are you?

Because I'm pregnant
and it's quads, so, you know.
You're not laughing.

Well,
I'm laughing on the inside.

Which is a tad ironic, because
I'm leaving here
in five minutes

to get arrested.

Hang on. Sorry?

Er,
you're going to be arrested
at the exact same time

that Dan Miller's
doing his Lewisham walkabout?

Yeah. But I'm going
to Brentford where
nobody will be watching me,

because they'll
all be with him.

So the Leader of
the Opposition is going
to be filmed

at a police station
at the exact moment that
his head of communications

is being arrested. Yes!
Okay, great, great.

So that's a sackful of
face-chewing rats,
thank you very much.

Look, it's...
This is what you have
to deal with, right?

It's just another day
at the fuck office.

So, now, I have to
step into your shoes
but after you've shat in them?

Olly, look at me.
I'm not pulling
anything out of a magic hat.

The rabbits are
falling to pieces.

Their fucking
heads are coming off
and frightening the kids.

So, somebody else is going
to have to help out.

Well, who says I
even want to be you,
Malcolm? Who says that?

Nobody says that.
Except every screaming atom

of that
etiolated stick of fuck
you call a body says that.

Every fibre of your being,
every stamen says that.

-But you are not me, Olly.
-No.

And you never will be me.
I knew Malcolm F Tucker, sir.

And you are not
Malcolm Fucking Tucker.

You're not even
fucking Manchester's top
Malcolm Tucker tribute band.

And trying to be me? You?

Trying to be me
will fucking kill you.

I give you 18 months
before you're a washed-out,

weeping alcoholic
with no fucking
bladder control.

Sleeping on your
brother-in-law's sofa.

And so on and so on.
It doesn't have
to be like that now, Malcolm.

-Politics has
actually changed.
-Oh?

Right? Yeah, yeah.
And you probably
haven't noticed

because you've been
on transmit for the last
fucking eight years.

Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah!

And whilst you've been
doing that, everybody else
has been changing,

and it's all
a bit softcore now,
it's all a bit algorithms now.

You don't have to be
Malcolm Tucker to
sit in that chair.

Oh, how quickly they grow up.
You fucking think you know me?

Well, yeah. Yeah, I know you.

You know Jackie
fucking Chan about me.

You know fuck all about me!

I am totally beyond the realms
of your fucking tousle-haired,
fucking dimwitted

compre-fucking-hension.
I don't just take this fucking
job home, you know.

I take this job home,
it fucking ties me to the bed

and it fucking fucks me
from arsehole to breakfast.

Then it wakes me up
in the morning with a cupful
of piss slung in my face,

slaps me about the chops
to make sure I'm awake enough

so it can kick me
in the fucking bollocks.
This job has taken me

in every hole
in my fucking body.

Malcolm is gone!
You can't know Malcolm,
because Malcolm is not here!

Malcolm fucking
left the building
fucking years ago!

This is a fucking husk.

I am a fucking host
for this fucking job.

Do you want this job?

-Yes.
-Yes,
you do fucking want this job.

Then you're going to have to
fucking swallow this
whole fucking life

and let it grow inside you
like a parasite.

Getting bigger and
bigger and bigger
until it fucking

eats your insides alive
and it stares out of your eyes

and tells you what to do.

Malcolm,
this sounds like the fucking
video you leave on YouTube

after you've
blown your brains out.

I'm as dead as
fucking two-tone.
But I can fashion my own exit.

Oh, Christ!
What, are you going to fly
to Switzerland

and have a wank off
a nurse and
a bye-bye pill, are you?

Funny, funny man.
Political exit.

No, I know.

I'm going to leave the stage
with my head held
fucking high. Right?

What you're going to see is a
master class in
fucking dignity, son.

The audience will
be on their feet.
"There he goes," they'll say.

"No friends, no real friends.

"No children,
no glory, no memoirs."

Well, fuck them.

-NICOLA: Hello. Hi.
-Hello.

Hi. Nicola Murray,
Leader of... Oh,
I have to stop saying that.

-Hello. Helen, hi.
-Declan.

NICOLA: Declan, hi.
DECLAN: Nice to see you again.

-Yes, again, er...
-Do you not remember me?

I am so sorry,
you look very familiar.
But it's just I meet so...

-Well, I met so many people.
-"You're for the chop!"

-(CHUCKLES)
-Oh, right. You're...

-(LAUGHS) Okay. Mr Chop.
-Mmm-hmm.

Yeah. I'll look forward to
giving you
a bit of a grilling.

Well, this might be
your chance. I'm the one
doing the interview.

-Are you? Great.
-Just...

HELEN: Here we are. Oh!
DECLAN: Here's an old friend.

NICOLA: Oh, yeah.
HELEN: Wow. Yeah.

Still... Still doing
that joke! (LAUGHS)

HELEN: Big, though, isn't it?

Um, if you'll just excuse us
for one minute, Mr Ch...

Erm...

-Declan. Sorry.
-Declan.
Yes, yes, yes, of course.

-I just need
a quick strategy chat.
-Sure.

I am, er, ever so close

to being on the verge of
bawling my fucking eyes out

disappointed about this.
I mean, this was it, was it?

What was the alternative?
Going on Strictly Come Dancing

and doing
a fucking hooky waltz
with Abu Hamza?

This is pretty low.
This is lower than my mother's
pelvic floor, Helen.

I had to
virtually go on the game
to get you this.

So, frankly, I don't care
whether he wants

to roll around in apple sauce
with you, get in there
and do as you're told.

Right. I will go,
because I'm choosing to go in,

but I just need you to know,
for the record...

Just get in there
before I push you in.

If they video this as well,
I'm going to swallow my
own fucking thumbs.

-Okay.
-Sorry about that, yes.

Not at all. Now, we're going
to be videoing this as well,
if that's okay.

So, I thought interview first,
then I'll get myself

into my chop costume
and we'll do
a little double act.

What news from the front,
my hardy legionnaires?

Er,
Forest Hill running smooth,
Croydon lag time, get it?

Down to 15 minutes,
slamming the hoods.

-Boom! Fuck the Home Office.
-Yeah.

-Double-stamped.
-Fuck the police!

Yeah, that doesn't work.

Christ,
I haven't felt this alive
for months.

I've felt like I've
had a health scare.

Okay, Dan Miller's
station visit's on.

He's going to be meeting
and greasing. Ugh.

Er, Emma,
which police station is it?

Lewisham.
Actually, Phil, how long
is the waiting time there?

Well, that's a big nick.
Tough nut to crack.

Phil, can you stop pretending
you're in
The Sweeneyand just,

just give me a fucking fact?

-How long?
-It's coming down.

Hour, hour and a half, tops.

-Okay.
-So listen, you know,

I, I was thinking of learning
a new language.

-(MOBILE RINGING)
-Oh, sorry, got to take that.

Oh! It's my sister.

EMMA: Peter, we need to get
as many staff

as possible down
to Lewisham, okay?

When Miller gets there,
we need them to be processing
like, like human Pentiums.

Yeah, I agree.
I don't care who's
queuing for arrest

or if they go
on to kill again,
Lewisham's the priority.

Brilliant!
We make it seem like
Dan Miller's the problem.

He's wasting police time.
He's the backlog.

-Oh, Peter.
When you have a moment...
-Yeah.

...erm, can I get a
quote on Malcolm's arrest?

-Malcolm?
-Tucker.

Malcolm Tucker's
being arrested?

Well,
I was thinking of coming down
there in October anyway.

What the fuck? This is...

I've been getting
calls for 15 minutes.

These aren't the same sources
that told you David Beckham
was running for mayor?

Malcolm's solicitor
phoned the police,
who phones the journalists

-and they tell me.
-Okay, right.

And after all that
people phoning you,

then you just... Then you just
have a little
tuna salad, do you?

Watch Loose Women?
You lay an egg
over there and then...

Terri, Terri.
Can you spot who, who the
blockage is in this office?

I have been
getting on with doing

exactly what you told me to,
which was...

-What?
-...dealing with
this arrest backlog.

Can't you react to events?
Fuck!

Yes, just doing one thing
at a time, are you?
Because you're a uni-tasker?

All the press
are going to focus on, right,
is, is Malcolm's arrest,

not on everyone else
who's being arrested.
We've been trumped again!

No, this is good. We swoop in,
sort the system,
and we get Tucker in clink,

-it's a double-stamp.
-Which police
station's he going to?

TERRI: Brentford, apparently.
EMMA: Brentford.

Shit, it's off-grid!
It'd be here.
The vector would be here.

-TERRI: Right.
-Okay, listen up everybody.

Forget Lewisham.

I want every warm body
we've got down to Brentford.

Let's put the fucker in a cell
with a genuine psychopath,
seriously.

Can I just make sure
that this is a double-stamp?

This is a double-stamp.

Yeah, well, don't worry,
because I can come down
and I'll have that wall

whitewashed in
about half an hour.

So, you're telling me
I literally
cannot get arrested?

Look, I haven't
got the staff to deal
with the workload right now.

My client is doing everything
in his power to help you
with your inquiries.

They are processing
arrests at Lewisham,
I suggest you head down there.

-We can't go to Lewisham.
-Why not?

Dan Miller's there,
fondling truncheons.

Oh!

-This,
as you can see, is our...
-Dan Miller, hello.

...control room, our...

-Hello. Dan Miller.
-Our nerve centre,
shall we say,

where we've been
managing the situation.

Hi. Dan Miller.

So, you must be incredibly
concerned with the log jam
that we've been seeing.

Oh, absolutely, yesterday
was a very,
er, challenging day.

I can imagine.

Yeah, but since we've had
the additional help from
the private contractors,

we're really
getting on top of it.

Great.
Well, yeah. Can I just...

-Oh, of course.
-Olly, what
the fuck are we doing here?

Everything's fine.
I'm like lube at a funeral.

Yeah. I can't believe it
but DoSAC have actually
turned this around.

They've Apollo 13'dit.

Fucking press.

MALCOLM: Excuse me,
is there another way
out of here?

PRISONER:
You could hang yourself.
MALCOLM: Fuck off!

Just down there,
turn right, on the left.

Have you heard this rumour
that Malcolm Tucker's
going to get arrested?

Two minutes,
I will have something
for you on that.

Tell me that was
a rhetorical question.

Erm, Malcolm was supposed
to get arrested, erm, quietly

on the other side of town
but obviously it's
actually got out.

How?

Do I have to say this?
Do I have to say it out loud?

-Because the police...
-Oh, why don't you
say it out loud? Yes.

Yes. Maybe they can do me
a favour and throw you down
the fucking stairs.

This is basically
the same fucking exit.

This is rubbish! This is...
This is literally rubbish.

JOURNALIST 1: Malcolm!
Malcolm!
Excuse me! Excuse me!

JOURNALIST 2: Malcolm!

Hey! Get the fuck back here!
Jesus Christ.

Go. Go, go, go!

MALCOLM: You fucking drive off
like that again,
I'll stick your meter

so far down your throat
you'll be able to tell
the price of your next shit.

Why the fuck
have you brought me
to a police station

when one of our
most senior figures
is about to be arrested?

Erm, don't clasp your
hands behind your back,

it makes you look like
you've been cuffed.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Oh, it's him. Marvellous!

Put him on speakerphone,
he might want to do
an interview down the line.

Oliver Reeder.

MALCOLM:
Olly, some press turned up
at Brentford.

I've just been chased
into a cab. It's like Hard
Day'sfucking Night.

-Where can I go?
-Er,
I'm hearing Hackney's good.

82% operational.

Olly, will you please keep
the rest of the press there
with Dan in Lewisham?

Please. I need my dignity.

-Come on,
give me my fucking dignity.
-Er, thanks for calling.

Okay,
we need to get out of here
as quickly as we possibly can.

-Thank you very much.
-Thank you very much.

-That was really wonderful,
carry on.
-I'll see you out.

Super, super station.
Love what you've done with it.

Malcolm's gone.
What's happening?
Did he escape?

No, the press were there,
it was taking too long.

For Christ's sake,
this is like Tora-fucking-Bora
all over again.

Where did he go?
We've got to get
everyone to that location now.

Look, I'll find out,
I'll find out.

Let's get
a chopper in the air.

-Be like the OJ chase!
-He is getting
bloody arrested today?

Absolutely he is.
This is legacy stuff,

the men who threw
Malcolm Tucker in the slammer!

Can I just say that my idea
for pop-up prisons
doesn't seem so stupid now.

All right? Being this close
is not going to...

(MOBILE BEEPING)

-Hackney, Hackney.
-There. That's Hackney.

-Hackney.
-Okay, it's my manor.

Adam, make it happen.
Boots on the ground, yeah?

All right.
This is fucking awesome.

It's like Cobra.
I hope I get Defence next.
Imagine that.

-Want
the headset now, don't you?
-Fuck off.

I'm just going to make myself
an Earl Grey, Glenn,
can I get you something?

No, I'm tea'd out.
Thank you, Terri.

-Oh. Want a hand?
-While you're there

-you could open
that cupboard door.
-Okay.

-Are you moving
offices or something?
-Yeah, you could say that.

I'm going to a prison cell.

-Oh, Glenn.
-Yeah.

-No.
-Yeah.

I've decided I'm
going to resign.

Then, after that, I'm going
to go to a police station
and hand myself in.

No, no, no. Look, I...

I perjured myself at
the inquiry, Terri.

They're going to find out.
They always do.

I'll have a roof over my head,
three meals a day
and regular sex.

I might even work out.
Get some abs.

What about your sister, Glenn?
You've got to
whitewash her walls!

Come out, everyone.
Tally ho! Yoo-hoo!

Come on,
bring out your fucking dead.

Right, everybody listen.
I, I've got
an announcement to make.

What is it?
You got an erection?

No.
I would like to tell you all
that I'm resigning.

Is that it?

No, you closeted
Regency homosexual,

that is not it.
Morally, this department

is in the gutter.

Thanks for the speech,
Glenn, but...

You stay and
take your punishment!

(PHIL HOOTING)

I will lamp you, with a lamp.

Glenn, you've gone
a tiny bit psychotic,
my love.

You, Fergus. When you asked me
to join you, all you had
was your principles.

But over the last two years,
you've bent like a human
fucking palm tree,

swaying to the guff
of these six-toed,
born-to-rule pony-fuckers.

If you're going
to go, just go.

-GLENN: Oh!
-Spare us this
Peter Finch bullshit.

Adam,
you're waiting for your turn!

Oh no! I remember.
It's your turn right now.

-Brilliant.
Brilliant. Mmm-hmm.
-You are simply

the most loathsome human being
I have ever met.

-Yeah.
-You were so
well-suited at the Mail,

it's a shame you
came over here.

-Hear! Hear!
-You know what?
I hate you both.

Tweedletwat and Tweedleprick.

You contribute absolutely
nothing to the world,
so thank fucking God

you have no power.

-Er, we do actually. It's...
-No, you don't.

And, Peter.
It's been dreadful.
I hope your cock falls off.

Phil,
do you know what you are?

You're like
an eight-year-old trapped
in a twelve-year-old's body.

This is great.
Why is no one filming this?

-GLENN: And Emma...
-Yeah, yeah. Do Emma. Do Emma!

Yeah, Emma, I'm sorry.
You're just a standard-issue
insipid posh bitch.

That's it! Terri!

PHIL: Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I don't think I've ever
met anyone quite so proud
and yet quite so useless.

But I do have to
thank you, because

I have managed to
stay in shape purely
through the energy I spend

in pitying you every day.

Glenn, you're just
embarrassing yourself.

Fuck you all up the wrong'un!
Ta-ta! Bye-bye!

That was better
than IMAX Inception.

EMMA: Poor, poor Glenn.
PETER: Should we
try and get him back?

Fuck no!
He's gone completely mental.

He's gone Glenn-tal.

JOURNALIST 1:
There he is, there he is!
JOURNALIST 2: Malcolm!

JOURNALIST 3:
Malcolm, can you tell us
why you're here today?

MALCOLM: Ready?

JOURNALIST 1: Are you here
to be arrested?

-GREG: We have nothing to say.
-(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)

GREG: Nothing to say.
He has nothing to say.

Out of my way,
you fucking human Mooncup.

GREG: Come on, back.
MALCOLM: Have a bit of class.

You do not have
to say anything.

However, it may harm
your defence if you
do not mention when questioned

something which
you later rely on
in court.

Anything you do say may be...

JOURNALISTS: Malcolm! Malcolm!

Back up.
Back up. All right, quiet,
quieten down! Quieten down!

-Give us something.
-I have a brief statement

I will read on
behalf of my client.

"I am innocent of all charges
and vow to do
everything in my power

"to clear my name.

"I will fight this all the way
and I am confident
no jury will be able

"to look me in the eye
and say anything other than
I am an innocent man.

"But to avoid any distraction
to my official duties

"and to begin preparations
for my acquittal,
I am standing down

"as Senior Communications
Officer to my party and
with heavy heart,

"am leaving top-tier politics
for good." That is all we have
to say at this time.

-Thank you.
-(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)

No, I want to say something.
I want to say something.

It doesn't matter.

(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)

GREG: Excuse me.
Let me through.

JOURNALIST:
Have you been sacked,
Mr Tucker?

Did you resign or
were you sacked?
Malcolm? Malcolm?

GREG: "...standing down
as Senior Communications
Officer to my party..."

Oh, I do feel grubby.

I feel fucking great!

That's a huge scalp.
Size of a pizza.

How about a toast
to the old bastard's
hopeful incarceration

with a fine twelve-year-old
Glenn Fuck-it?

I haven't worked all that long
or all that closely
with Malcolm Tucker

but I wish him luck
in clearing his name.

Although, obviously,
if he is found guilty, then
the full weight of the law

should be... Oh, sorry.
Full force of
the law should be...

I haven't worked
all that long...

With him gone,
erm, I feel fresh hope.

We can mend and rebuild
a credible politics of
integrity and honour.

So, er, thank you
very much for coming.

I look forward to seeing
much more of you in the coming
weeks and months.

Not you, Rod, obviously.
You're a twat.

But, er,
in spite of the awards. Er,
for being a twat, I believe.

So, thanks,
fellas, don't be strangers.

Oh,
Phil, is it too much for you?

It's strong!
Oh, poor old Phil!

EMMA:
Did you get it in your eye?

ADAM:
I've got an image now of you

puking up on some
stripper's shoes
and then bursting into tears.

-(BOTH LAUGHING)
-Drinking on the job, Peter?
Why not?

You've already
got the efficiency
of a man who's half cut.

Oh, then I must have dreamt
that my idea had successfully

reduced the arrest backlog.

MARY: DoSAC did do
rather well today, actually.

TERRI: Thank you.
MARY: But there's
a conspicuous blockage

that will lead to
a personnel change.

Stewart. You're out.

You're going to be pickled
in a think tank.

-TERRI: What?
-Of course I am, Mary.

And whose authority
is this coming from, hmm?

The PM, whilst acknowledging
the need for thoughts,

is keener on
actions these days.

I'm going to be
providing those.

Stewart, there's no need
for you to clear your desk

because you're a walking
thought pod, aren't you?

Absolutely.
Thank you very much.

Thanks, erm... You know,

I've spent 10
years detoxifying
this party, hmm?

It's been a bit
like renovating
an old, old house, yeah?

You can take out
a sexist beam here,
a callous window there,

replace the odd
homophobic roof tile.

But after a while, you realise
that this
renovation is doomed.

Because
the foundations are built
on what I can only describe

as a solid bed of cunts.

Wow.

EMMA: Bye, Stewart.
PETER: Bye-bye, Stewart.

Thanks for everything!

Sod it.

DECLAN:
Now, er, if we can just get
a couple of pictures,

someone will give you
a knife and fork and if you
can pretend to eat me.

PETER: What a great day!

Peter, sorry,
The Sunhave just been on.

I'm afraid
a prisoner who was accused
of assaulting his wife,

he was accidentally released,

he's gone back
and he's attacked
the wife and children.

Oh, shit in the couscous!

EMMA: Right, okay,
we need a joint statement.

Both departments were too busy
with the backlogs. Okay?

FERGUS: Yeah, basically stuff
fell through the cracks.

EMMA: Exactly.
FERGUS: It was no one's fault.

TERRI: Can I get
this double-stamped?
FERGUS: Just fuck the stamps.

TERRI: And whose fault is it
that the man was released?

Terri, meeting in my office.

-In Peter's office?
-No,
we're meeting in my office.

-We're having a meeting...
-Okay.
No, I'm meeting in my office.

ADAM: Fuck your office.
PETER: What a shit day!