All language subtitles for The Thick Of It s02e05 Losers.eng

Prime Minister has resigned.

- Are you serious?
- The Prime Minister has just resigned.

This is all down to you,
you know. You're a Nutter.

- I am not a Nutter.
- Oh, you are going Nutter, mate.

Yeah, well, I mean, all they'll
be doing, they'll be bobbing about

like emperor penguins
trying to swap over an egg.

Hello, Hugh.

I know you're not a Nutter

but you're not seen as
being not a Nutter, either.

I mean, are you with me?

Goodbye! And thanks for
all the varicose veins.

Where's your pal Ben Swain?

- Morning. Oh, what a sad day.
- Yes, it is, isn't it?

So are you interested in...

Yeah, I mean, I mean, yeah.

I mean... But my first
loyalty obviously is to Hugh.

Naturally.

OLLIE: Mr Ben Swain, my
main man, the Swain man.

Yeah, no, I just told them I
was popping out for a sandwich,

which I was, in fact,
and still am. Listen...

(CRUNCHING)

That, that is the sound of my teeth.

What, already? You're in
a huddle with Tom? Now?

Of course I want in.
Well, yeah, absolutely.

Well, you're my man, aren't you?
You're the Ben, you're The Ben.

You know, you're, you're Ben
Nevis, Bentally ill, you know.

You know, I was thinking this
is just like election night,

well, we know that we've won already.

I want to see what's being said, okay?

Okay, Hugh, come on.

Would you mind hanging on one second?

Ah, Hugh, you're on the plane.
How long have you been in the air?

- Calling you from the plane?
- Yeah.

That's a bit United 93. He's
not saying he loves you, is he?

Hello, Hugh? He's gone.

He didn't say "let's roll", did
he? That would be really bad.

Thanks, Ollie.

Mahmood? Dr Mahmood at 12:15.

Yeah, and that's a scrape and a
polish and everything else, lovely.

Nick, Mr Hanway, good
afternoon. Yes, how are you?

No, well, I'm fine, thank you,
everything here is a little bit odd,

you know, little bit Bob
Todd, but... Ah, the Hughster.

Yeah, no, he's always been
a very big admirer of Tom

so I don't see why he wouldn't back Tom.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Angela, hello.

Ollie, how are you?

I am tickety-fuckety-boo,
thank you very much.

ANGELA: Sorry?

Tickety-fuckety-boo. It's
just something that Ben says.

Are you and Ben Swain big buds, then?

- Well, you know. Just, could you...
- I'll come and talk to you.

Hang on just a second. Things
are just a little bit fluid here

and Glenn's not really a big Ben fan,

Ben Swain obviously, not the clock.

Well, it's not the clock, is it?
It's the bell that's called Big Ben.

So go on, tell me, who else is running?

Well, no one.

No one's going to stand against Tom,
now. Surely he's going to be unopposed.

They'll be rebranding him
as we speak, I would imagine.

New hair, Ted Baker teeth, all
the... all the modern trappings

- of your political leader.
- Ollie, are you pissing?

No, that's the flush of the automatic
urinals, it's a gentleman's lavatory.

I don't want to talk to you
while you're holding your penis.

Well, that's not what
you used to say, Angela.

Yes, it is.

No. Well, actually it is
precisely what you used to say.

We're hearing that someone has booked in

to do a Today interview in the
morning to announce they're standing.

Oh?

You and big Ben out of
the loop on that one?

Um... No, no, no, no, no, that's...
Sorry, that's Geoff... Holhurst.

Geoff?

I just can't comment on that, sorry, no.

(SIGHS)

I just never know what to say when
the bloggers and the diary writers

hit with me with a
"what about this rumour".

Now, I'm just not
comfortable lying, Terri.

Oh, for God's sake, Robyn, bloggers.
Just tell them to bloody well sod off

back to their grubby,
dingy little bedrooms.

Now I'm getting calls about Geoff
Holhurst, about him standing.

- About Geoff?
- Yeah.

- Calls about that already?
- Yeah.

- Geoff Holhurst?
- Yeah.

For leader? That would be
extraordinary, very bizarre.

He's got such a tiny head.

You're right, actually,
he's got a miniature head.

ROBYN: Is Geoff Tiny Head
standing, is he out in the cold?

I completely forgot, it's
the last test tonight.

Can we get a radio in here,
do you think, or something?

- Just watch it online, just...
- What?

- You can get it on the computer.
- I hate doing that,

it's like making coffee in
a microwave, it's all wrong.

Tom's lot have gone into a huddle.

- Really, already?
- This is it, you know.

This is where it begins,
this is who's in, who's out.

(QUIETLY) Have you heard anything?

(WHISPERING) Fatty is out.

Released to spend more time
with his fridge. Marvellous.

- Yeah, indeed.
- Has anybody seen Jamie?

- Why, have you lost him?
- Oh, don't tell me he's gone feral,

'cause he was fucking terrifying
when you had him on the leash.

- Now, lets not overreact.
- Well, it's easy for you to say.

He threatened to shove
an iPod up my cock.

Yeah, but you get that
a lot, though, don't you?

Malcolm, seriously, while you're here.

Who is it that's booked to go on Today
tomorrow, by the way, do you know?

We could find out if it's...

- It could be Bob Ryan.
- TERRl: It could be...

(LAUGHING)

That's exactly who it's gonna be.

Yeah, Glenn, probably
Bob Ryan. For fuck's sake,

have you gone back in fucking time?

Yeah, I believe Disraeli's
standing, as well.

TERRl: And Oliver Cromwell. ROBYN: Yeah.

Or it's a fish

that hasn't crawled out onto the
land yet to form the first tetrapod.

I was hearing maybe Geoff Holhurst.

Geoff? No fucking way, he's
ruled himself out for definite.

Mind you, I could always go and fire
a warning shot across his throat.

What's that, is that Dan Miller?

REPORTER: ... about possibly standing?

That's something I'm not
really prepared to answer.

- Ah.
- Ah, nice one.

- Very nice.
- Yes.

You don't think he's
got a chance, do you?

No. He's just a droid,
isn't he? He's just...

Hey, hey, don't... Don't let him
hear you doing that sort of stuff.

What happens if he
does stand a chance, eh?

He'll fuck you harder than Ron
Jeremy, and with less warmth.

Right, if anyone hears from
that little clit wart Jamie,

give me a call, yeah?

- Right, Geoff Holhurst?
- Yeah.

What, Ollie's our source on this, is he?

Ollie Reeder? Shallow Throat? Brilliant.

Yeah, I know you don't rate him.

You can say that again. Ollie
Reeder is, to quote Bobby Kennedy,

a complete fucking spazmaloid.

Plus you know how Geoff
Holhurst photographs.

It looks like his
body's in the foreground

and his head is really, really
far away. He looks fucking weird.

- Yeah.
- Just something solid, all right?

Otherwise our front page is gonna be
an interview with Janet Street-Porter

on why she hasn't been asked to be Prime
Minister and a giant fucking Sudoku.

- Malcolm.
- Elvis. Sorry, sorry, Cliff, Cliff.

Where are you off to?

I'm actually off to see an old
colleague, you know, from the old days,

from before you asked me to resign.

Oh, lovely, lovely. Well, look,
I'd love to stop and chat to you

but you know, I'd rather
have type 2 diabetes.

- Yes, fuck you, Malcolm.
- Yeah, happy New Year.

- Right. Hi, Geoff, don't stand.
- Oh.

No, no, I mean don't stand against
Tom. Now, do you see what I did there?

I was both being funny
and also deadly serious.

Yeah, now where did you hear
that, Malcolm? I'm not standing.

Never mind where I heard it
from. The thing is, Geoff,

you're gonna waste everybody's time.

I'm not standing, Malcolm, I'm
just trying to start a debate,

you know, a policy debate,

about the future direction of
the party and of the government.

Yeah, because first,
you've got no credentials.

I mean, you're so back bench
you've actually fucking fallen off.

You're out by the fucking
bins where I put you.

Hello, are you listening
to me? I'm not standing.

Secondly, I'm gonna tell the
Mirror about all the drinking.

(LAUGHING) I'm not drinking.

And thirdly, I'm gonna tell
The Mail about the affair.

And fourthly, you've got a tiny head.

No, I haven't.

Yes, you have. It's out of
proportion, everybody mentions it.

- Look...
- See, you're shaking it

and I can hardly see it
move. Are you shaking it now?

- Look...
- Are you shaking it now? I can't tell.

I'm not standing, okay? My head
is the right size, all right?

It is very petite. So
you're not standing...

- No. ...right?

- You will not stand against Tom.
- I've said. I bloody said.

Okay, thank you, Geoff.

Let's go.
Arriva-fucking-derci,

let's have lunch sometime, yeah?
We'll have a tete-a-tiny-tete.

GEOFF: Jesus.

Oh, nice Nutter Nick.

- What was all that about?
- Just, you know, putting out a fire.

- Definitely out?
- Definitely out.

Pissed out. Steam and cinders, pal.

- Does Tom know you're here?
- Yeah, of course, yeah.

- So how's the rebrand going?
- Okay.

We've, um, booked him
for a photo op on Tuesday.

He's taking the family to a Harvester.

- Oh, Jesus Christ, really?
- Yeah.

"Have you been to a Harvester
before, Prime Minister?"

"No, in fact, I've never actually
been outside the fucking house

"with my family before."

Anyway, look, do you know

the name of the bod who's booked
to go on Today in the morning?

Sure, yeah. Do you know?

Yeah, we just found out.
So, you know who it is?

Well, of course I know.

I mean, there's nothing that you know
that I don't know. I'm Dr fucking Know.

Who is it?

Is this... Are you...
Are you testing me now?

Is it, 'cause I mean, I could test you.

I mean, we could have a
big match or testostethon.

I mean, how do I know that you've
got the fucking name, anyway?

- Because Hugo at Today told us.
- Right.

So what name have you got?

Dan Miller.

Oh, okay, so you do know.

Of course I fucking do.

Look, Tom's announcing
his team in the morning,

and I've just got to stop
Dan Miller announcing his team

two hours before we announce ours, so
if you want to get on the bus, that's...

That is my mission?

You, Mr Nutty Bar, have given me a task?

Jesus Christ, who the
fuck does Tom think he is?

The next Prime Minister of Great
Britain and Northern Ireland, Malcolm.

Nick, tell the mighty fucking Tom

that his transition will be as
smooth as a Brazilian's fuckh...

Oh, Trinny and Susannah.

Well, I'm sorry to burst into
your little fucking boutique,

but you've got a fight on your
hands, that's all I'm saying.

I'm backing a rival
candidate, so fuck you

and fuck you and your Nutter
coronation 'cause it ain't happening.

- So you're backing Dan Miller, are you?
- No, I'm not backing Dan Miller!

Don't you fucking ever
ask me a question again.

Fatty?

Oh, aye, Fatty, yeah with his
Spider-Man pyjamas, the fucking idiot.

From now on, it's a proper fight.
It's a pub fight, Motherwell rules,

and Tom is gonna get a pint
glass in his fucking eye,

and pool cue up his arse, and another
pool cue in his other fucking eye.

Geoff Holhurst.

Oh, what, Mr Baby New
Potato Head? Fuck off.

Hey, ho, my main man, how are you doing?

Nice with a slice, big Ben. How are you?

- Good. Hi, Glenn.
- Ben.

How... How's everything with
you? How... How's the huddle?

What is the next move?

The next move, my aged
retainer, will be...

(OLLIE LAUGHS)

...the next move.

Oh, well, gosh, I'm going to write
that down. Does it mean anything?

Now listen, if you've
got things to do here,

then I'm gonna get back to the huddle,

and you should... Why don't you
come over, come over to the hotel?

- Yeah?
- Have a chat with Tom, press the flesh,

come and step up onto the bridge
of the starship Government.

- Through the doors, Mr Spock, okay?
- That sounds great.

That'll be grand. We'll
see you there, yeah?

- Yeah.
- Come later, all right. Kirk out.

Are you a horse?

Sorry?

Are you a fucking horse?

Um, I don't... I don't
know what you mean. What?

Are you a fucking horse?

Okay, no, I'm not a horse.

- Are you sure?
- I'm sure.

You've got a pretty fucking horsey
face, and a bit of a horsey wife.

Are you a fucking horse? Are you?

Okay, leaving the wife
aside for a second...

Are you a horse?

- No...
- Exactly!

I can categorically say

- that I am not a horse.
- Exactly, you are not a fucking horse.

You are no horse, and you
are not a stocking horse.

- Oh.
- You are the real thing.

Oh, right.

And we are going to ram
you up Tom's arse so hard

that he has to shit
out of his lying mouth.

It's not a very nice
image, really, is it?

But it's very motivating.

ANGELA: ... used any extra money
to improve the computer system?

Well, could I just put you
on hold for two seconds?

Hugh is what, I mean,
everyone says the fifth

or sixth most influential
figure in the cabinet.

- All right, the seventh.
- (WHISPERING) Just...

Geoffrey, can you just hold
on a moment? What is it, Robyn?

Someone has leaked some things
about, you know, immigration policy

and computers, and The Mail would
like to know what our line is.

Oh, for fuck's sake, that's
not a priority. Stonewall it.

But I can't just say...

Give them the cold cock,
Robyn. Sorry for being...

What is the cold cock?

Look, nothing is happening
on that tonight, okay?

We've only got one fish fryer in here

and we've got a massive
political fish to fry, okay?

- Yes.
- Don't, under any circumstances,

mention the massive political
fish when you're talking to them.

OLLIE: Sorry to interrupt, Jean...

Hi, Angela. Well, to be honest,

you know, nothing is
happening here about that.

Yeah, everybody's at
standstill. So, is that okay?

Hugh's a... He's a figure
of solidity, isn't he?

That's what he is, he's
like... He's like, you know,

like WH Smith's, you don't notice
that it's there every day, do you?

But if it was suddenly gone

- you might just think, you know, fuck...
- Ollie?

...you know, where am
I gonna get my pens?

- Can I just...
- Can I call... I'll call you back.

Hang on. Sorry, thanks. What is it?

All right, Glenn, I'm going to
leave you to your switchboard duties.

Fair enough, don't worry about us here.

Head back where the action is,
I don't want to miss a chance

of getting into Uncle Tom's Cabinet.

- Okay.
- Problems?

- It's, eh, it's Hammertime.
- What is it?

There's been a wildcat walkout
at Watford Immigration Centre

and whoever's been
leaking has told the press

we weren't prepared to spend money
on repairs for the computer system.

The Mail have told them that this
department refuses point-blank

to do or say anything about it,

and so the night shift have walked out.

Robyn, what the fuck do
you think you're doing?

- I cold-cocked.
You said to. - Jesus.

I said nothing was happening, I
said nothing was going on here.

For fuck's sake, where
did you learn that,

the Civil Servant School Of
Telling The Fucking Truth?

You said cold cocks.

Well, yes, it's bad.

And get Ollie, eh... Right,
I want you to, to deal with it.

I'm gonna get back to the huddle,
you, I want you to get onto the press

I want you to tell them
I am... I'm all over it.

Yeah.

And I'm gonna instigate a spectrum-wide
sweep of every aspect of the... thing.

Okay.

And that I'm not being
distracted by leadership bids.

- Yeah?
- Okay, sure, no, no problem, Ben.

I'll... But I'll see you at the hotel.

Uh, yeah, sure, if we can get
this done, we'll... We'll see.

Bring me back a tiny wee
Fanta from the mini-bar.

(PHONE RINGING)

Get the...

(MOBILE RINGING)

Hi, Malc.

There is a glacier of shit at DoSAC,

I need you over here with a
fucking blowtorch right now!

And then Liam said
that someone suggested

that Tom should go on
Strictly Come Dancing.

He can barely even walk properly.

He looks like he shat
himself the whole time.

- He often has.
- Okay, right, listen up. Where's Robyn?

- ROBYN: Here.
- Robyn, come here, quick.

Listen, I'm bringing Jamie in to
firefight this Watford story, okay?

So you're gonna be working with
Jamie for the rest of the night.

You take orders from Jamie.

You are going to bury this
Watford arseache tonight, okay?

'Cause tomorrow morning,
from broadsheets to wank rags,

I want page one, two and
three to be a profile of Tom

looking like a fucking
political colossus.

You know, Tom meeting the Pope,

Tom in an NHS hospital chatting
to little baldy kiddies.

I want pages four and
five to be a timeline

of the last few years in British
politics with me at the centre,

looking fucking indispensable
and fucking benign.

And I want page six to be
fucking Israel or some bullshit,

not a fucking DoSAC dip-shit
legacy-distracting cock-up!

Right, Jamie. Look, I just
have to say at this point

that I do find him just
a little bit frightening.

Relax, he has never hit anyone,
or at least anyone he has hit

has never had the balls
to take it to a superior.

It's a fucking joke. It's a joke, okay?

The man is a professional,
you will be fine.

Actually, Malcolm, we still
have no word on Dan Miller.

I mean, he's gone dark,
he's not answering his phone.

Maybe he's in a hotel
with his own huddle.

Ring around, try and find him.

What, ring every hotel in London
and ask if Dan Miller's booked in?

Yeah, although he could
be using an assumed name.

So you want me to ring
round every hotel in London

and ask if anyone of
any name has booked in?

Well, it will keep you busy, you know.

You need to keep the mind active
at your age. You, walk my way.

I need you to go over there for
me, I need you in that hotel.

Oh, what, you're out of the loop?

Fuck you, Andy Pandy, I am the loop.

I want you in there for reasons
that will not become clear to you

for about 200 years, so just do it.

Specifically see if
any of Dan Miller's army

are mincing around in
fishnets and high heels.

- Yeah.
- And I want updates every five, right?

Okay.

All right, and listen. Get
onto your ex at The Mail, right,

tell her no fucker is standing,

they've all evaporated like
cat's piss on a hot tin roof.

- Okay, Twatweazle, you got that?
- Yes, thank you.

Malcolm Tucker is an Investor in People.

Yes, I heard that. Fuck you.

Okay, the line is: Wildcat walkout,
we'll be talking to the unions,

it's too early to comment.

Off the record: Union Neanderthals

with brains the size of children's
bogies couldn't take the heat

of Hugh Abbott's ring-stinging,
shit-hot, public sector reforms,

but he's flying back like Harrison
Ford with a big whip in one hand

and a skinny latte in the other

and he's going to whip six
shades of shit out of them

and save the world. Okay?

Okay, I think I've got
that. "Six shades of shit".

So, what are you doing?

I'm just making a note of some
of the things that you said,

- so that I've got something to refer to.
- Well, don't take notes.

Get on the fucking phone,
start pumping the line, okay?

Right.

And don't look so scared. It's gonna be
all right. I'm being polite, aren't I?

Yeah, well, sort of.

Well, exactly, so get on
it, you fucking hippie,

or I will personally have
you as a light supper.

Okay, how does this sound, all right?

After a period out of favour
with the so-called powers that be,

I know what it's like
to feel the rough edge

of this government's lack of concern.

Shit, Cliff, that is
just self-pitying shit.

Right, there is a germ
there, though, isn't there?

No, it sucks cock. It sucks cock so deep

the bell end's wearing your
appendix as a little hat.

All right, well, could you...

Could you just be a bit more, you
know, specific in your criticism

rather than this stream of abuse,

because that would
actually, you know, be...

I think it just sounds a bit
defensive, just a little bit...

Hey, you, Virgin West Coast, shut it!

You don't even know he's here, okay?

In fact, get the fuck out of
here. This is an operations room.

So unless you want your tonsils removed

by keyhole surgery with this
fucking key here, piss off.

Okay.

Right, latest.

Ollie says no one's standing
in Tom's way, definite.

Oh right. Ollie says, does he?

He's at the Nutters' summit
now, he's our best source.

- What for, raw sewage?
- Oh.

Right, just start a Tom story,
all right? But just as the spine.

Don't elaborate, just keep
your options open, all right?

- Okay.
- Just for now.

And get rid of that Dan Miller horseshit

and get going on the Tom. Okay,
come on, people, let's go, come on!

(MOBILE VIBRATING)

Terri, I think you've dialled the wrong
number, this is not the Samaritans.

Yes, very, very funny. Listen,
I've got something for you,

a bit of intelligence.

Jamie has got Cliff Lawton
as his stalking horse.

Who told you it was Lawton,
Martha Kearney's gardener?

Malcolm, it was Robyn told me.

Malcolm, are you there?

Nobody gives a shit if
you got shafted by Malcolm.

I will never, ever forgive
him for what he did to me.

Jesus, this isn't
EastEnders, this is politics.

We're all in the same plague pit,
Cliff, there's no clean hands.

(PHONE RINGS)

Ah.

- Yeah?
- Jamie.

What's that sort of droning
noise in the background, then?

Look, okay, here's a more positive
approach, right? Try this, try this.

It's a kind boring, kind of
low sort of droning, boring,

kind of miserable whining, boring
kind of, sort of boring noise going on.

Yeah, well, you've got it wrong, yeah?

Cliff fucking Lawton. Hey, nice. Was
the Cillit Bang guy not available?

- Oh, fuck you.
- To put it simply: I'm back.

Oh, fuck off, Cliff.

Sorry?

Fuck off. You're a busted flush,
you're not gonna be Prime Minister,

you're not gonna be
anything, so fuck off.

This is your thing, isn't it?
Everything has to be an absolute,

everything has to be black and
white. You know, I love you, fuck off.

There are lots of
shades of grey, you know.

Oh, I know that. I'm looking
at 15 of them right now.

See you later, no-mark.

No, no, no, he is a nice guy, it's
just that apparently every 18 months

to two years he burns out.

It takes a tug boot full of
Prozac to get him righted.

They're here, everyone,
Team Cliff are here.

(HUMS CELEBRATORY TUNE)

Fantastic.

As if I would fucking associate with
Cliff Lawton, what a fucking joke, man.

You've got this bullshit
Watford story covered, yeah?

- Yeah.
- We will have a little discussion later.

Yeah, I think Watford
will get bumped by the fact

that we're about to hand the
nuclear codes to a guy who,

every now and then, loses it so bad

he needs SatNav to find his own nipples.

What, what are you talking about?

Well, I just thought it was
fair to let everyone know

about the Tom rumours,
you know, you know.

How... How the guy that's
about to become Prime Minister

chugs antidepressants like
they're fucking Smints.

How the Black Dog humps his leg and
shits in his duvet every four months.

I think that will bump
the Watford walk-out.

You've gone fucking psycho
son, fucking psycho. Twat!

The leader of the Nutters is a nutter?

Jesus, my niece is funnier than
that, she just makes jokes about poo.

No, I don't think that they will
run with it, because it's libellous,

that's just as libellous
as the Huw Edwards rumour.

Look, it's not my jurisdiction, anyway.

Nick Hanway looks after
Tom, not me. Thanks, bye.

Oh, you're not dealing with this, then?

Yes, I am dealing with it, but
officially you're dealing with it

because I don't want
to stamp on any toes.

Everyone gets down now
and again, don't they?

There's loads of people take
antidepressants, millions.

Yeah, your potential
Prime Minister, for one.

Oh, your potential
Prime Minister, not ours.

Oh, look, don't start with the
fucking semantics shit again, Chomsky.

You know what I call semantics? Wank.

So... So what do you say, we bury it?

- Are you asking me to manage this?
- Tom's not sure about you.

Yeah, well, Tom is
enormously mental in the head,

as we've just been discussing.

You might want to get back to base.

Looks like your boss
is losing supporters.

He's cracked, he's
suddenly got subsidence.

(MOBILE RINGING)

I'm getting a lot of calls.

Well, you're Communications,
Robyn, that does tend to happen.

Don't do jokes, Glenn. You're not
a funny man, you're not that type.

- Have you been talking to Malcolm?
- No, should I have?

Well, who did you mention
Cliff Lawton to, then?

Well, only Terri.

For fuck's sake, woman,
what is your fucking problem?

No, no, don't answer that.
We'll be here all fucking night.

We are here all fucking night.

Hey, have you forgotten the key, huh?

Oh, I'm terribly sorry.

He's lost about 25 MPs
in the last 12 minutes.

Let me tell you, this is serious wobble.

Christ, I haven't seen a wobble like
this since Fat Pat gave me a lap dance.

- Does Hugh know about this?
- Yes.

Um, this is the antidepressants thing?

No, haven't you heard?
We're at war with Argentina.

Yes, it's the fucking
antidepressants thing.

Jesus Christ. You know what you're like?

You're like some fucking old computer
that nobody will take off your hands.

You should be out in a fucking skip.

Hi, Jamie, what can I do for you?

I need you back here now.

Oh, um...

Well, I'm... I'm asking nicely, but if
necessary, I could come and kidnap you.

I do keep a balaclava
and gaffer tape in my car.

No, I actually do,
do you hear me, Terri?

- Right, how many has he lost?
- At least half a dozen.

That's all right, though, isn't it?

Still in the hundreds,
that's way above the 44.

(SIGHS) What does Macaulay
Culkin think is gonna happen next?

Um, he doesn't know.

Of course he doesn't fucking know.
He's about as connected as a kibbutz.

- Right, come on, then, chop chop.
- What am I doing?

I don't know. Just get on with it.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

Getting pretty tense out there.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

So how come none of Dan
Miller's guys are here?

Sorry, who the fuck are you?

I'm Ollie Reeder. I work
with Ben Swain at DoSAC.

Oh, right. Yeah, sorry.

Bennie, big Ben, Benjamin
Netanyahu, how you doing?

It's all getting a bit, um...
"rah!" down in there, isn't it?

Well, there's always
wobbles, there were last time.

Fat Pat was just on the phone to Tom
asking him if he wants to withdraw.

Are you pissing about?

No, I'm not, not any more, no,
so... So what... So what now?

Fuck!

No, she... She didn't actually
say that he should withdraw,

she was just saying he
should consider it, maybe.

Have you gone mad in your blinky head?

That's senior communications
telling our boss,

"We'll just leave that
shotgun lying there,

"in case you want to use it, Mr Cobain."

So this is it. So Tom
goes down like the Belgrano

and we all just go down with him?

Fuck it, if I'd known it was
going to end up like this,

I'd have just spent
my time in a basement

with Bjorn Borg, with a bag
of cocaine and some prozzers.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

(CRICKET MATCH PLAYING ON RADIO)

Come in.

Oh, Glenn Cullen. How fares
the witching hour with you?

Well, I've had better nights.

The one where my appendix burst
and my mother died springs to mind.

What, on the same night?

Christmas Eve.

Bloody hell. That's
a bit steep, isn't it?

Why don't you sit down, pull
up a pew and have a listen,

because this always makes the
world seem a slightly nicer place.

Why don't you help
yourself to a biscuit?

No, not for me.

I think these are By Appointment.

I'm supposed to be keeping
Hugh abreast of everything

but I'm feeling about as up to
date as the Gregorian calendar,

I'm completely out of the loop.

Join the club. I'm having a bit
of a Robinson Crusoe moment myself.

But between you and me, I'm beginning
to piss myself with excitement because

I've started to leak the
immigration figures to the press.

- You're leaking?
- Mmm-hmm.

That is funny. Julius
Nicholson, the wild one.

I'm the new Che Guevara,
I just need a new moustache

and some laser correction eye treatment.

- Hello.
- Right.

- Well, well, what's the plan?
- Well, they don't have a plan.

Okay, well, perhaps you
should give them one.

Well, yes, fantastic, actually, Malc,

because obviously I
have a very suitable one

tattooed on the underside of
my scrotum, so why don't we...

Shut it, you're using up all the minutes

on my talk-till-you-get-head-cancer
tariff.

Listen, get hold of Nick.

Ask him if he's thought about
sounding out another body,

a safe pair of hands.
Suggest Clare Ballentine,

she's highly regarded, she's clean,

and she could theoretically occupy the
same space as Tom. Call me in three.

(SIGHS)

Um, Ben.

I had a quick thought.

Yeah? Go on, enlighten us, grasshopper.

It's just... if Tom's dying,
he doesn't have to die.

We can take his DNA and transfer
it to a healthier host...

What are you talking about?

It's a science fiction
analogy. What I'm saying is...

Why don't we sound out
a potential fall-back?

Who?

Clare Ballentine. She's...
She's highly regarded, she's...

Yeah, yeah, hold the
line, I get it, Tintin.

So what do you think?

Mmm...

To be honest, I was really
hoping that was going to be shit

because I'm tired and I'd
quite like to hit someone, so...

Okay, where, though?

My office in Richmond Terrace?

Yeah, okay, right, let's get there.

Chop chop!

So, it's Ballentine.

Well, it's a sideways move,
but it kind of makes sense.

Should we run with it?

Well, it's definitely
happening, she's on her way in.

- Is it gonna stand up?
- I think it'll stand up.

You think?

Probably.

If you were me?

- I'd have a sex change?
- Very fucking funny.

Right. Fuck it, let's
do it, let's run with it.

Let's go, Ballentine story. Let's go.

We've got to run with something,

otherwise we're gonna have to reprint
Hitler's fucking diaries again.

No, there's a pack of them behind now.

I'll be with you in
about a minute, all right?

NICK: Is she on her way? BEN:
Yeah, yeah Mark's got her in a car.

- Excuse me. Thank you.
- Coming through.

For goodness' sake.

Okay, thanks.

This is The Times,

they're saying they
know exactly how much

the immigration computer
overspend was and...

I don't know the exact number but
it's a really, really big number

and they're throwing
lots of new stats at me.

I mean, there's somebody
leaking this stuff.

All right, Terri, there's all sorts
of new immigration shit hitting us,

and I need you in here
now to eat that shit, okay?

(SINGSONG) Lots of love, bye.

We've only got one minute.

(PANTING) Okay, the main headline is...

(HOOVER RUNNING)

Nick's ready to dump Tom
if Ballentine's up for it.

- You have made me very, very happy.
- Yeah, you look it, I can see.

There you go, like a herd of
wildebeest dressed by Burton.

Stampede at the Debenhams sale.

- Hello.
- What's this? What's this?

What... What's all this carry-on?
What are you all doing here? What?

Yes, well, listen we've had a bit
of a brainwave. We're getting, eh...

We're gonna float Clare
Ballentine as a possible.

- Clare Ballentine?
- Yeah.

A great idea, fucking great
idea. Where'd you get that from?

You know.

Hey, Malcolm, Malcolm,
what the fuck's happening?

Tom's in trouble.

- Good.
- His numbers are falling.

Good.

I suggested that they take
a look at another runner.

What's going on?

Basically, Clare Ballentine's
coming in because Tom...

Who's Clare Ballentine?

She's a back bench MP, did the...
What's the select committee?

What colour hair's she got?

- Orange, is it relevant?
- Is it the woman with the freckles?

It's a... They're
bringing a freckly lady.

- She's lovely.
- OLLIE: Yeah, fine.

Clare Ballentine. Okay,
okay, I'm not hating that.

That... That's not total shit.

- Are you into this?
- I'm not leaving it to you, hey?

You couldn't organise a
bum rape in a barracks.

Au contraire.

So, tell me, what's going on?

Well, I think it's
probably better if Nick...

Why would Nick... Nick called me in?

Yeah, he did.

And what are you, the
late-night coffee boy?

Well no, I, I...

Hi, Clare, thanks very,
very much for coming in.

- Thank you, nice to be here. - Like
the hair, Clare, like your get-up.

- Oh, the hair Clare.
- Tousled look, looks good.

Yes, can I just get this straight?
It is 3:00 in the bloody morning.

Yes, it is 3:00 in the
morning, that's true.

The time when most suicides occur.
The Indie had a pull out on self-harm.

Said it in that.

This is, eh... You know Nick, don't you?

- Yes, I know Nick. Hi, good morning.
- Morning.

Hi. I'm really sorry, why am I here?

Shall we go through to
the meeting room? A bit...

Let's get her a little bit
of... bit of privacy over here.

NICK: Take a seat.

Tom's position is perhaps not
as crystal clear as it was.

And we have been tasked with
sounding out a possible alternative.

You, Clare are the unanimous choice.

You are very highly regarded, very.

You have a fantastic track
record. Canny operator.

Tremendous gravitas.

MALCOLM: Good hair. BEN: Yeah.

Am I really the only
person you could think of

to drag out of bed at
three in the morning?

I've never had any
ambitions in this direction.

Yeah, only because
you're not a careerist,

people don't see you as
becoming some power-crazed Tibia,

you're like a... you're-you're
like a female John Major.

No, but in a really good way,
that's a really good thing to be.

Is Tom aware of this?

(STAMMERING) Eh, eh, um...
Nick will, can explain the...

Eh, between ourselves, Tom
is not aware of that, so...

Well, you know, he must be aware
that something like this, eh, betrayal

will be going on, you know? Unless
he's madder than we think he is.

Maybe, maybe, maybe he's dressed as
Pat Phoenix wanking into a desk tidy.

It's possible.

Well, on that delicate
note, I would like to say no,

and I will stick to having
been captain of the Guides.

(ALL CLAMOURING)

Excuse me, everyone, everyone...
Clare, is this a private matter?

Ah, it is. I knew it, it's
a private matter. Excuse us.

Just through here,
Clare, in there, in here.

NICK: Who put the pit bull
in charge all of a sudden?

Hey, it's a private matter.

He's just following his
political instincts, okay?

He's like one of them sniffer
dogs that you send after Semtex.

(MUFFLED VOICES)

She is addicted to online poker.

Could... Well, could that play
in her favour, do you think?

- She used her own fucking name.
- Oh, Christ.

Well, uh, thank you very
much indeed for your, um...

support and understanding and, um...

I'll be off to bed.

- Thanks for coming in,
Clare. - Night-night.

Yeah, cheers, yeah, you're bust!

- That's pontoon, mate.
- Is it? Oh, all right.

Clare fucking Ballentine, eh?
What a great idea that was.

Clare Ballentine.

They've ditched Ballentine.

- What? Already?
- Yeah.

What the fuck is wrong
with these people?

I mean, what is this,
potential leader speed dating?

- Well, who is standing?
- I don't know.

Well, ditch that for a starter. Get rid
of her. I can't stand her fucking face.

You know, I think you
should eat something.

Oh, right, yeah, eat something,
that would be right, wouldn't it?

You know what? Our coverage
so far has either been wrong

or guesswork, which was wrong.

So all we have now is
a story-shaped hole.

Seriously, your blood sugar's low.

- Right.
- Makes you very irritable.

No, what makes me very irritable,
Angela, is having no fucking stories

and having to fill
a... an entire newspaper

with just fucking prepositions.

Could we have this conversation
near some coffee, do you think?

- No.
- Thought not.

No, what we're having here
is a secret conversation

and I'm hoping that this time
you can keep the fucking secret

because normally you're
about as secure as a hymen

in a south London comprehensive.

Yeah, well done, that's offensive on a
number of levels in a very concise way.

- The leaks are coming from in here.
- What, in the gents?

No, the leaks are coming from
Richmond fucking Terrace, right?

Now, I want you to find
out who the mole is,

so we can play that game
where the mole pops up

and I smash it over the
head with a fucking hammer.

- That is crossing the line, Jamie.
- Well, pardon me.

Don't stare at the fucking
urinals, that's rude.

Well, I've never seen one
before, I'm quite intrigued.

MALCOM: Yeah, yeah, for
sure Ballentine's out.

Thanks, thanks for that,
Malcolm, I really appreciate it.

You know what they're calling
her already? Ugly Betty.

- That's fucking brilliant.
- So it's a big night for you, huh?

Well, yeah, you know...

Right, listen, this Tom story, who's
got it? What... How are you gonna run it?

ADAM: You mean the vitamins?

Yes, the vitamins, ha ha ha.

Probably nothing,
actually, to be honest.

No, nothing, nothing at all.

If the guy's gonna be
the next Prime Minister,

I don't want to piss him off with
something that can't stand up.

Good call. Listen, um, I should
get you over here sometime, yeah?

I'd love that.

And obviously if you do think about
running with this pill story...

Yeah.

... I will personally
fucking eviscerate you, right?

Right.

And I mean, I don't have your
education, I don't know what that means,

but I will start by ripping your cock
off and I'll busk it from them, okay?

Good, thank you again.
Talk to you later.

Cheers. Bye-bye, now.

He's a nice guy.

Nick, I've just had
The Mail on the phone,

they're running with the Tom story.

- It's not looking good.
- No, it's not good.

I'm sorry, it's everywhere.

It's spreading faster than
a rent boy's cheeks, so...

We're gonna need a plan B here.

Um...

What about Geoff Holhurst?

Well, his head photographs
quite badly, so...

Okay, um...

Do you think Ben could run?

If you think... I mean, look,
you know, it's up to you, Nick.

- Yeah, yeah.
- Lf you think...

I mean, I can try him out if you...

if you think that he will.

- Yeah, yeah.
- Let's get him in,

give him a wash and brush-up,
and Botox his eyes open.

I'll get the press to stop
calling him Blinky Ben.

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

As a matter of priority.

So why have you got me, why
have you called me back in,

are we gonna do a post-Clare
pre-emptive Dan Miller strike?

We're thinking, Ben, um, about you.

About... Sorry, as in me?

People still want a Tom figure
but Tom is... is tainted,

you know, but you, you're...
You're clean, you know, you're...

You're the acceptable face of Tom.
Tom is analogue in a digital age,

you are Digital Ben, you are Digi-Ben.

I think, I really think you
could get it, I really do.

I really, genuinely do.

Oh, shit cakes, I've...

What, so I could be like
a younger, sort of...

A younger, hungrier, leaner
version of Tom, is that it?

Not leaner.

All right, a younger, hungrier Tom?

That's it. I mean, because there is...
There's an army of people out there

who want Tom's ideas.

You could bring those ideas but,
you know, without the dribbling.

Ollie, Ollie wally doodle.

Ben, big Ben, Floella Benjamin,
why, um... What's with the coming in?

Things are happening, the game is afoot.

Is it a particular game that...

I'm just gonna go make some nuisance
calls, I'll see you in about half a...

Stop fucking blinking or I
will take your optic nerve

and strangle you with it, okay.
You look after him, Ollie, okay?

He's a very important man.

- Cock like a caber.
- What's, um...

See, Malcolm thinks I've got
a shot, more than just a shot.

At the... At the leadership?

Yeah, I'm... I'm Digi-Ben.

Great.

Malcolm's taking some soundings,
but this is it, you know?

Do you want a pre-meeting,
do you want to be part of...

- What?
- Part of Team Ben, the B team?

- The B team?
- The A team, call it that?

I'd love to, Ben.

- Yeah, okay.
- Big Ben now.

- Hey.
- Ben Laden.

- No, not that.
- No, not that, okay.

- Let's go.
- Yeah.

I hope you've made this strong, Robyn.

There you go.

But there's no bloody milk.

- Oh, forget the milk.
- There's no, ah...

Forget it, Robyn, it doesn't
matter about the milk, forget it.

- Yeah, 'cause I'm not going out.
- Forget it.

Now, I will deal with the press stuff
and you can find out who's been leaking.

What? Well, I can't,
I'm... I mean, that's...

That's not the... That's spying.

Yes, Robyn.

I think you'll find that in my job
description it doesn't include spying.

Are we going to have to have, um, the
attitude conversation again, Robyn?

- But that's your attitude.
- Are we?

Oh, hey, Desperate Housewives, have
you found out who's leaking yet?

I have. It's Julius. He's just told me.

Wait, wait, no, the... What I... That...

- Julius?
- Yeah.

- Nicholson!
- TERRl: Um...

That baldy pussy!

Well, I tell you, if he
thinks he's leaking now,

wait to see him when
I'm finished with him,

he'll look like fucking
Mel Gibson's Jesus.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

TERRl: Oh, dear.

Yeah, Ben Swain, Angela.
Young but he's heavyweight,

he's the heavyweight of hope.

Heavyweight of hope?

Yeah, don't put that,
we might rethink that,

but listen, honey, I'm going to
need to talk to the big man, yeah?

- Can you put me through to Adam?
- Why?

Because I'm ascending into the political
fuckoffosphere, Angela, that's why.

Yeah, well, he's busy,
he'll call you back.

Oh, look, it's the little
turncoat in Richmond Terrace.

Going back to the hotel
and the plotters, are we?

Nobody's actually plotting anything,
Glenn, don't be silly, it's just a...

Oh, hello, the Golden Girls.

Well, the party's hotting up.

I'm listening to the test match and
I'm just going to get some biscuits.

Listening to the test match? The
pair of you are just hanging round

like a couple of school secretaries

in the summer holidays,
aren't you? Nothing to do.

Yes, well, the reason I'm
not doing anything, Ollie,

is that you were meant
to be keeping me informed

so I could ring Hugh and keep
him abreast of developments.

Well, in...

In case you hadn't noticed, Glenn,
it's all gone a bit starey-eyed,

twitchy-bollock,
fucking crazy out there.

Well, I hope the Nutters
have made you olive monitor

or whatever it is that you want.

Why am I supposed to be
batting for Hugh exactly?

Hey, why I'm supposed to be
looking after fucking Eeyore

in the lion's den on this night?

What? Because he's your
boss, you little prick!

No, seriously, though. It's
all changed, give me reasons.

Right, give me... What is the point
of Hugh now, what's the point of you?

That's it! That's the
last straw. We're finished.

I... I'm done with you, that's...
We're over, you fucking pond life.

Oh, no. Oh, Glenn's dumped me!

I'm gonna have to go home
and... and gorge on chocolate

and get pissed on cava and look at a
picture of you in your bathing trunk.

- You little shit.
- Don't fucking push me, Uncle Bulgaria.

- What are you gonna do about it?
- Yeah, well, I'll push you back,

- you fucking crumbling sandcastle...
- Don't you push me.

...of a human being.
- Because that's assault

- when you push people.
- I can take you out.

JULIUS: Hey, hey, guys.

...take a fucking swing at me!

These are good biscuits and they
cost ?4. Just take care, will you?

For crying out loud. Come on.

Honestly. Why don't I get something in?

A man cannot live on Jaffa Cakes alone.
Obviously, I've tried. (CHUCKLING)

OLLIE: I could do with some food.

(CHATTERING ON RADIO)

Oh, what's this, feeding time?

You on solids? I thought
you were still on the tit.

'Cause actually, I did order a curry
but I don't know what's happened to it.

Little fucking Asian guy turning
up with a bag full of chapatis,

they've probably shot him by now.

Oh, Malcolm, not in the current climate.

Go and get us a bit of cheese, will you?

A whip-cracking cheddar
that even I can still taste,

even after all the years of degradation
I've put my taste buds through.

Yeah, right.

Right, come on, just a... A bit of
cheese for me and Dr Strangelove here.

Yeah. Right. Cheese. 'Cos I'm a little
bit busy here, to be honest, Malcolm,

to be getting cheese.

If you don't go and get me some cheese,

I'm gonna rip your head off
and give you a spine-dectomy.

I'll just... I'll find out. Ben!

BEN: So, you know, when...

Can I just check something? You are
not, you're not standing, are you?

Terri, the line is, when I
said, uh, I wasn't standing,

then I definitely wasn't standing.

- When was that?
- That was earlier.

Er, right, so should it be somebody
mentions your name you would be...

Yeah, if somebody mentions my name
then my name will be mentioned.

Yeah, that, that is basically obvious.

You know, I would simply note
that my name was being mentioned,

that is an interesting fact,

one that would have to be factored
in to the whole... the whole...

- Okay. ...matrix of factors, fine.

- No worries.
- Crystal clear.

- Lf you'd excuse me.
- Fabulous.

- When you say he's stated the obvious...
- He's standing.

...what does that?
- He's standing.

No, he's definitely standing.

(SIGHS DEEPLY)

- What's the news? Just...
- What?

Just tell me what the fucking news
is and I'll put it on the front page.

It's not like we're The Independent,

we can't just stick a
headline saying "Cruelty"

and then stick a picture of a
dolphin or a whale underneath it.

I mean, that's just... That's just
fucking cheating, that's rubbish.

Well...

What I'm hearing is Ben Swain.

- Ben Swain?
- Yeah.

Right. I literally don't know who he is.

I'm not being... I'm not
being stupid or anything,

but I physically don't
know who Ben Swain is.

He could be... He could be the
leader of the Special Boat Squadron...

Service.

The Special Boat Service or
whatever it's fucking called,

and this could be a... a massive coup.

Ben Swain is what I'm hearing.

Nick, good news. I've killed
the antidepressant story.

I've been onto The Mail.
They're not gonna run it.

The wobble is over. Tom is
now cycling with stabilisers.

Oh, that... That's great
news. How did you do it?

Oh, well, that would
be telling, you know?

But you'll... You'll let him know, yeah?

You will tell the new Prime
Minister who stopped this, yeah?

'Cause, I mean, if you
were to take all the credit,

well, I might have to let him know

that you were responsible for
starting this Ben running thing.

Well, Ben... Ben was just an option.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, well just you make
sure I'm inside the tent pissing out.

In fact, forget the fucking tent.

I want a caravan of my own, adjoining
Tom's, with a big pissing veranda.

Who's gonna tell Ben? Because, you know,

this is a pretty tough
blow for the big guy.

- Watch this, watch.
- Okay.

- Ben, Ben!
- Yes.

Is Ollie... Where's Ollie?

He's bigging me up, he's
floating me, talking to the media,

getting it all sorted, on top
of it, on top of it. Sorry...

I've sent him out looking for cheese.

BEN: Yeah, no, as I
say, at, eh... at 6 p.m.

Malcolm! Malca T, Malca roller.

Have you tracked down, eh...
Tracked down Dan Miller?

No, he's the nowhere
man, he's fucking nowhere.

The good news, however,
is that the, eh...

Well, the Tom wobble, it's over.

And so the...

- That's great, isn't it?
- Yeah!

Why is... So what, he's
not wobbling, he's...

What does that mean?

Well, it means still the rats are
now returning to a very buoyant ship

and they're playing deck tennis,
so that's lovely, isn't it?

(STAMMERING) No, no, what
does that mean for me, then?

I guess that means that you're standing

in the chamber of the House of Commons
with your big flaccid dick hanging out,

with a "vote for me" sticker on the end.

But you said, you said I had a chance.

About a half an hour ago you
said I was in with a shot.

Don't fucking give... Look, half
an hour ago you were in with a shot.

This is half an hour hence.

We've fucking time-travelled, yes?

We're in a weird and wonderful
world where everything is different.

Maybe outside the polar
icecaps have melted.

Maybe there's fucking
robots knocking about,

and Davina McCall's the new
Pope. Maybe you can download rice.

I want you right now to
think about your future, okay?

Think about what you are doing.

Get yourself back on the train
to fucking Tomsville pronto, yeah?

Yeah.

Half an hour ago.

I... I mean there's no
disgrace in losing, but...

Well, there's no disgrace, but still...

Going like this is...
This is just... I mean...

Oh, God! It's like a prostate
consultant's waiting room in here.

Okay.

Right, wakey wakey!

Number one, I want to know
where fucking Dan Miller is.

And number two, I want to know what
the sneaky little tosser's up to.

Well, one, Malcolm, I don't
know. Two, Malcolm, I don't care.

And three, Malcolm, I note his
stock is quite high at the moment,

so if I was a betting man,
I think he's a good bet.

He's not a good bet.

Well, I'm a betting man and I
think, well, lets bet on Dan.

MALCOLM: Don't, don't tell me this.

Yeah, need to... Oh, for... Now
reverse swing starts to take place.

- Oh, that is just perfect.
- Shut up,

you're just a pair of twats
talking a pile of fucking bullshit.

It's not bullshit, Malcolm, it's
the cricket, this is the test match.

What's that, cricket? That is the
English equivalent of sport, isn't it?

No actual physical
contact, just glaring.

It's the cricket, it's the
cricket. It's strategy, prowess...

Have a prawn. Have a fucking prawn.

- JAMIE: Nicholson! Nicolson!
- Yes?

The immigration shit.
It was you, wasn't it?

You mimsy bastard Quisling leak fuck!

- Sorry? What are you talking about?
- Yeah, yeah, yeah.

You will be sorry, you inflatable cock.

You fucking sold us out, didn't you?

Deny it!

Well, James, I can't deny something

till I have the actual
charge presented to me.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, the actual charge.
You mean, apart from the charge

you're gonna get when I clamp
jump leads to your baldy bollocks?

Okay, okay, okay. You, julius
Nicholson, being of sound mind,

but with a body that looks like a
giant sex toy, did knowingly do us

up the shit hole by passing
confidential information to the enemy,

and I am gonna have your
guts as a skipping rope

and your lungs sun-dried and turned
into a little fucking waistcoat.

James, technically it was not a leak,

because firstly it's
not confidential infor...

Eat that fucking prawn.

I'm not eating prawns, Malcolm,
I'm on... I'm just telling you...

- Eat a bit of fucking prawn.
- Don't be stupid.

- Eat another prawn.
- Stop it.

- Have some fucking chow mein.
- Malcolm.

Here, stuff it in his fucking
head, stuff it in his big baby head.

- Get that fucking cheese over there.
- Eat the cheese.

- Eat the cheese!
- Go on, have some.

Eat the fucking...

This is not funny, this
is an expensive suit.

Shut up! It was just...
What the fuck are you doing?

MALCOLM: Hey, hey, hey, right.
JAMIE: Eat the fucking cheese!

Eat the cheese, Nicholson!

They're gonna know about
this at the treasury.

CLEANER: Jesus Christ.

Excuse me, can... We
haven't finished eating,

can you come back in a few minutes?

I don't care if you haven't
finished eating, I want to clean up.

I've been waiting here
for such a long time.

If you want to clean,

then why not just get
in there and clean, eh?

- I will clean.
- Good.

Well, that is your job description,
I assume, so perhaps you...

- Don't be so rude, how dare you?
- What?

How dare you speak to me in that manner?

- Look, look just do...
- This is disgusting.

What, are you a fucking
lecturer or a fucking cleaner?

No, just get on and
just clean it all up,

I don't need other people telling me...

I've got a room full of
fucking shit sacks here

who've given me enough
arseache all night.

I don't need you joining
in, Mrs fucking Mop.

I understand totally that you feel...

Does that... Does that give
them licence to be rude?

- Not at all, absolutely no way.
- Make me feel like a small person.

- No way, that was completely wrong.
- 'Cause I'm not a small person.

That was completely out of order.

The World needs to know about these
kind of people, they hide under things.

What do you mean, the
world needs to know?

- The World.
- What do you mean, the world...

The News of the World, The Sun.

- I don't think that's, no, no.
- The Daily Mirror, The World.

That's totally inappropriate.
I don't think it's...

- Well, why not?
- Well, because it was...

- Because one side...
- It's not an offence to you...

...one side of the face... Let me talk.
- No, you've got to...

Let me talk, I don't
like you talking above me.

I'm not talking above you.
Neither am I talking down to you.

Listen, Angela, how far have
you got with the Ben Swain thing?

ANGELA: Why?

Well, however far you've got with
it, basically that is too far.

ANGELA: It's not happening?

OLLIE: I'm reverse floating him now,
and I'm sucking him back up the pipe.

- Hello.
- Yeah, Adam. Hi, listen,

I'm really sorry about
this Ben Swain thing.

Yeah, no, that's... You know, I
mean, these things happen, don't they?

They do happen. Do you
know I'm gonna change

page four and five to you now.

It's gonna say "Junior Government
Gimp Wrecks Ex-girlfriend's Career".

How about that? Do you like that?

Yeah, do you know what I'm gonna do,

Oliver Reeder? I'm gonna spend the rest
of my life dedicated to persecuting you

in the most poisonous vendetta
ever known in the British media.

How about that? You have a great
day, you have a smashing fucking day.

I've actually got quite a lot
of stuff I've got to get on with.

I don't care. All I know
is this man was rude to me

and sometimes I feel inside

that I need to talk to somebody about
this, because I think there will be

a lot of people that will
be interested to know.

So every penny you
spend in the local shop,

it goes round the community six
times. But every penny you...

Robyn, are the phones working all right,

because Hugh said he'd ring
about now for an update.

Well, he rang about five minutes
ago and he asked to speak to Ollie.

- He asked to speak to Ollie?
- He asked to speak to Ollie.

TERRl: Hi, Ollie. OLLIE: Go home, Glenn.

Go to bed, I would.
You're just, you know,

hanging around like the
biscuit in the barrel

that no one wants, aren't you, eh?

Go home, Glenn, I mean, you're
like a spare prick at, um...

- A fair word.
- At a wedding or...

I'm just going to the machines

- does anyone want any coffee?
- TERRl: Yes, please.

You're not going anywhere,
pal, I might need you.

Fucking hell!

Fuck!

Jesus!

I'm not a joke, okay? All right? Hello?

I am a man! I am a
man, you know! You know?

This, this... This is my life!

I'm a human being and
all this is my life!

And it's collapsing in front of me.

Yeah, Tom's lot, they're
never gonna want me, are they?

And fucking Hugh, now he...
jesus Christ, this is all...

- I am a man!
- Listen.

And... No, you don't. I'm
irrelevant. No, no, go away.

I'm irrelevant, I'm
irrelevant, I'm irrelevant.

Fucking Hugh just wants to speak to
Tinky Winky? Well, fuck Tinky Winky!

Fuck you, Tinky Winky! Auf
Wiedersehen Pet, the party's over,

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.
What do you know about Hitler?

Well, he had a moustache and he
lived over there. Fuck 'em all!

Glenn, stop. Sit down, sit
down, have a cup of tea.

- Come on, pet, come on.
- Fucking hell, Terri.

- Come on.
- I mean, a whole career...

- I know, I know.
- It's just over like that.

One minute you're...

...you're indispensable.
- I know.

- And then you're just landfill.
- Mmm, I know. I know.

(MOBILE RINGING)

But that's the thing,
isn't it? You don't know,

I mean you've got a contract,
you're a civil servant.

Yeah, I know.

No, you don't. You're on the
last chopper out of Saigon,

I'm having it up the
arse with Ho Chi Minh.

I know, I know, I know. I've just
got to take... Just got to take this.

- Robyn, can you please deal with Glenn?
- I'm pretty busy.

Can you just deal with it?

Hello? Yeah, can you hold on?
Malcolm, Malcolm... Hang on a sec.

- Malcolm, it's Dan Miller.
- What? Give it to me.

- He's in the building.
- What?

TERRl: Yeah.

You could go for a run, because
that releases endorphins.

He's on the radar. Dan
Miller's fucking broken cover,

he's on his way here, he's
gonna be here in 15 to see Nick.

I want Jamie, I want
Ben, and I want you there.

Get down there, come
on, I need you there,

I need a man and you're a man. Come on.

He's coming with us. He's a human
being, remember? Not the irrelephant man.

Just get my phone. I'm
gonna get back on the saddle.

- Get back in.
- Blood sugar, take that.

Just answer the phone.

Okay, it's done, the others are
coming down, in about a minute.

I take it do you want
me in for the Dan show?

Depends who you're with, son. Are
you with Dan or with Hugh and Glenn

or Ben and Nick? You've
got to make your mind up now

before we reach those doors.
Sophie's fucking choice, who is it?

Ben and Nick, Ben and
Nick, I'm with them.

- All right.
- Wahey, it's show time.

Can Teflon Tucker save the Nutters

or will Dan Miller rip his scalp
off and use it as an oven glove?

Guys, is he here? Dan's
not arrived yet, has he?

Laurel and fucking Hardy,
glad you could join us.

Did you manage to get that
piano up the stairs okay, yeah?

Oh, ladies and gentlemen,
put your hands together

for the right honourable Dan Miller, MP.

Ah, the reception
committee. What a turnout.

And they say no one's
interested in politics. Malcolm.

- Dan.
- Nick and Ben. Jamie.

Oh, God, enough of the pleasantries.
Let's just oil up and get fucking, huh?

- So, I'm looking forward to Today.
- Yes, Today should be very interesting.

Eh, I was just wondering what are
you actually gonna be saying on Today?

- On the Today programme?
- Yeah.

Well, I'll be saying that
I'll be fully endorsing Tom,

Tom's my guy and he always has been.

Really, is that it? No
buts, no elephant traps?

No, no, no, Tom and I came
to an arrangement about...

about an hour or so ago.

Well, uh, my work here is done.

Why wasn't I told?

(WHISTLING)

It's the sound of you flying
out of the loop head first

into a huge mound of shite.

(WHISTLING)

So, eh... So this... This whole
evening has just been a waste of time.

Yeah, yeah, got it. Got it.

Yes, yes, that's... That's pretty
much it, that's why I went home

and had a good night's sleep.

Oh, by the way, Malcolm, Tom says to
liaise with you on the press and...

Yes, yes, of course, yeah.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Oh, God.

I've been summoned to
the breakfast meeting

to talk to Tom about This Morning.

Some details about
Clare Ballentine, maybe?

Geoff Holhurst, young Benjamin here.

Fuck you very much, you
unscrupulous bastard.

Scruples? Scruples, what are they?
Is that those low-fat kettle chips?

Okay, people, wake
up and smell the cock.

Hey, Ben, next time that
you want to stab Caesar,

make sure you're not holding
a fucking plastic spoon.

BEN: No, look, I wasn't, I was never
gonna... I was never gonna stand.

Malcolm.

The Mail's got hold of the story
about Ben being racist to a cleaner

and saying, well, you
know, saying racial things.

Yeah, and they're gonna run with
the headline "Uncle Tom's Cabinet",

which is gonna be a really
big problem for us, actually,

because it's a very, very good headline.

Well, I haven't said any... I'm
not... I'm so... I'm not a racist.

I'm so not a racist, one of my...
One of my best friends is an Asian.

No, it's... No, no,
I know that sounds...

MALCOLM: You! That's it.

I'm not standing for that, it's...

You're fucking a dead man walking.

You think I leaked this?

What do you think, I'm seven years old?

Kiss my bollocks. This has
got nothing to do with me.

Was it you?

No, it wasn't fucking
me, why would it be me?

You know, I thought that we'd be working
together in the new administration,

- that we'd...
- "The new administration",

- listen to the First Lady.
- Oh, shut up, Glenn, shut up.

I've got it, it was fucking
joni Mitchell here, it was her.

- Did you?
- I've leaked nothing.

JAMIE: What are you talking about?

ROBYN: Well, other than
accidentally, obviously.

MALCOLM: Look, I know that it was you.

- You think I'm lying?
- You're a pint pot Judas.

A pint pot Judas.

- I am five foot ten.
- Well, you don't fill that.

- It wasn't him, it was me.
- Oh, fuck off, man.

OLLIE: No way, no way.

GLENN: I've been leaking for 27 years,
I know how it's done, I leaked it.

You don't leak. Well, not
from the mouth, anyway.

You fucking shut up. At
least this is Hugh's Glenn,

all that you are, mate,
is fucking Ben's Glenn.

- Malcolm...
- Ben's Glenn?

That's all I am, I'm Ben's Glenn?

Well, what's wrong
with being Ben's Glenn?

- It's not the Ben bit.
- You say that like it's a disease.

It's the Glenn bit, not the Ben bit.

- Right.
- You're Ben, you're Big Ben.

- Yeah.
- You're Benny King.

- You're Ben Kenobi.
- Yeah, I know.

- OLLIE: Yeah, we're going places.
- Yeah.

OLLIE: Well, we're
going back to the office.

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