Original subtitles

There are some men -I count myself

amongst them -who cannot bear to be idle.

I could reveal that the Prime Minister

and his brother are both implicated

in an outrageous piece of insider dealing.

But I think we'll let that one mature a little first.

But we need to keep Charles and Henry

Collingridge in the public eye, if possible.

And the press are grateful for anything

in the silly season.

Now, the Prime Minister

usually takes the precaution

of packing his embarrassment

of a brother somewhere well out of sight

until the end of September.

Some rural French slum

in the Poitou-Charentes this year, I gather,

where Charlie could get peacefully blotto

while the Prime Minister saves

his money and holidays at home,

posing as a country gentleman at Chequers.

So it was most unfortunate

when someone tipped off the tabloids

about Charles's holiday address.

Bastards. What the hell has

poor old Charlie done to deserve that?

Just has the bad luck to be my brother.

Most families have someone

who can't make it on their own.

Right.

You're right.

If I stick by Charlie,

people will respect me all the more for it.

I'd like to think you did it for him,

not just for the opinion polls, Hal.

Well, of course.

Duty and self-interest happily coinciding.

For once.

Then comes the conference season.

Good morning.

Opposition did rather well this year.

Abandoned their usual tactic

of shooting themselves in the foot.

Had a go at us instead.

Especially the Prime Minister, I'm sorry to say.

Most unsporting.

Good morning, Teddy!

It's important that our Party Chairman

gets his fine-tuning right

before we all sally off to Brighton.

The essential thing is to present

a totally united and confident front.

Avoid any impression of complacency.

The natural party of government,

but at the same time, a listening government.

- Roger.

- Thank you, sir.

The big banner, and that's the spirit

and the theme of this year's conference,

prompted by the PM's last speech,

is "Finding the right way."

- Patrick?

- I don't mind "the right way".

"Finding" is a bit bloody silly.

We should have found the way by now.

Are we the natural party of government

or the babes in the bloody wood?

I take your point, but market research

shows us to be too sure of ourselves.

So we bloody well should be.

People aren't going to vote for "don't knows".

- Perhaps "Going the right way"?

- Implies that someone in the party

is on the way out, don't you think,

with the greatest respect.

Going, going, gone.

Thank you, Francis. A good point.

Out! Out! Out!

- He's arrived.

- Who?

- Our leader, Elizabeth. Who else?

- The broken reed.

The man of straw.

"Good things of day begin to droop and drowse."

A party conference can be many things.

A show of confidence.

An agonising reappraisal.

Or, as in this case, a series of auditions

by pretenders to the throne

while the lost leader

withers before our very eyes.

Michael Samuels, Environment.

Intelligent, sensitive, caring -

all in the same sentence, I bet you.

Not a return to subsistence farming.

What it means is sensitive exploitation

of natural resources,

intelligent self-interest

to motivate long-term gains

in a caring, capitalist concept.

Told you.

Peter McKenzie, Health.

Ease the pressure on the state system,

enabling our professionals to do a better job

for those unable

to fend for themselves financially.

So that now we can say with real confidence,

"Carry on, nurse."

God, what an idiot that man is.

Harold Earle, Education.

We've made schools accountable.

We've grasped the nettle and taken it on board.

It's not always been comfortable.

One thing I do know. Time will prove it.

It's the right way. It's the right...way.

And Patrick Woolton, Foreign Secretary.

No one's more admiring than I am

about the strides taken

by our friends in Eastern Europe.

But hold on. I mean, sorry, tovarich.

If I'm going into the conference chamber

to have big hugs with Russian bears,

I'd rather not leave my six-guns at the door.

Dear old Patrick. Likes to sound like a buccaneer.

But he's behind Henry Collingridge

all the way. He'll tell you so himself.

Roger, have you got a moment?

I won't deprive you for too long.

Glad to be rescued. Like being

in a loose maul with the French pack.

Don't get me wrong, Francis. Loving every minute.

How's it coming across?

You can see. The press aren't buying it.

They saw Patrick Woolton having a go.

"Leadership crisis" is the story they want.

We do our best with what they give us.

Your assistant's doing sterling work.

- That girl is like gold, Francis.

- I'm sure.

She's your mistress as well, I take it.

Is that a privilege exclusive to yourself?

- What?

- Do you enjoy her body exclusively?

Or is she available to others as well?

Now, hold on, Francis.

I don't think that's really the kind...

Don't be coy with me. I could have you

in the gutter. Answer my question.

Well, me and Penny go back a long way.

In some ways,

we're more like brother and sister.

We allow each other a little time off

now and then, if you follow me.

Now listen, Francis, it's not simple.

She's not a... You can't just...

I'm sure she'd be flattered to think...

If you ask her really nicely...

Shut up. Did you think I wanted her?

- Oops. Sorry, my mistake.

- Didn't you lend her to Patrick Woolton?

That was research. He wanted a bright girl

for a bit of research in a hurry.

Where would the House be without bright girls

I think he may want to borrow her again.

More urgent research needs.

Would she be available, do you think?

It's not impossible.

- I'll broach it gently. Leave it to me.

- I have another task for you.

Just a small delivery job.

- Morning, sir.

- Morning.

Come on, come on, Sleeping Beauty.

Bloody hell, Rog. What do you want?

To drown in your eyes

and hide in your arms, darling.

I've only just set eyes on the bloody thing.

It's very bad.

The poll was taken before the conference.

I'm sure you'll turn it round this week.

We've seen it all before, after all.

You're a good fellow, Francis.

But 30% is a hell of a lead to pull back.

Right, speak to you soon.

Do you know, Elizabeth,

I believe our leader is starting to worry.

It's a major story.

Greville will want to know about it.

All right, who's dead?

Henry Collingridge. Well, not literally.

Grev, I've got hold of the secret poll.

The Tories' own one.

Sensational. 30% behind. Collingridge

is about as popular as Captain Hook.

And who decided to make you a present

of this secret Tory poll?

I don't know. It was left outside my door.

All right, I know it sounds weird.

- But it's genuine. I'm convinced.

- You've been set up, you silly cow.

Don't let me hear any more about this

unless you have proof it's kosher.

Don't ever wake me again unless it's adultery

in the royal family with photographs!

Pig!

Right...

K.J.S.

Kevin Spence, Central Office, Research.

Damn!

Lovely. Nothing can beat you.

- I wish you really meant that.

- I do, I do, truly.

- Lovely girl.

- No. No, Rog...

Don't... Oh!

Oh, Rog!

Got a little surprise.

What? What are you up to?

Oh, Roger. Taking cocaine at eight a.m.

at the Conservative Party Conference?

Don't you think I have fantastic style?

- I think you're barmy.

- Nonsense.

This is brilliant stuff.

Know where I got it?

Grosvenor Square.

This stuff is usually only available

to the CIA. Yum-yum!

What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?

Rubbish. Not a bit of it.

Just been a tense week, that's all.

I could kick this stuff any time I liked.

I tell you what. Get this week over.

We'll go to a health farm for ten days.

No drugs.

No drink.

Shag ourselves silly. How about that?

That would be lovely. If only you really meant it.

I do. You'll see.

- Listen, Pen.

- Now what?

It's a bit delicate, this.

Remember you had that thing with Pat Woolton?

I'd hardly forget that, would I?

What a character

- You liked him, though, didn't you?

- What a maniac. He was all right.

- Really good fun.

- He's still carrying a torch for you.

Torch? Is that what he calls it now?

He was wondering if you'd have dinner

with him. He's shy about asking you.

Shy? Him?

He put his hand in my knickers in Langan's.

Yeah, well...

I said I'd pass it on.

Pimping now, is it?

Jesus Christ, Roger!

Don't you care about me at all?

Ah, Pen. Of course I do. I didn't think

you'd be upset. I thought you liked him.

I went with him because I wanted to,

not because you promised him a favour!

Listen, Pen, it's not like that at all.

I wish I didn't have to ask you.

I wish I could be everything to you, but I can't.

You know I'd never ask you to do a thing

like this unless my arse was on the line.

And it is.

It truly is.

I don't know what I'm going to do,

and that's the truth.

- You do believe me, don't you?

- Yes, I do believe you. It's that stuff!

Partly.

I mean, it's...it's not as though

you hate the man, Pen. You liked him.

You know if it was me,

I'd do anything for you. Don't you?

- I love you, Pen. You know that.

- Just shut up, Rog.

Why?

What's the matter? What have I said?

Kevin Spence?

Oh.

- Oh, Lord...

- Have mine. I hate the stuff.

Mattie Storin, the "Chronicle".

- Oh, y-yes, I...

- Don't pretend you recognise my name.

- Well, I do, actually.

- I wanted to check some facts with you.

Me? I'm in research, not the press office.

- I did say "facts", Kevin.

- Ah, yes.

Is this...a genuine report from your department?

Not a fake?

- Where did you get this?

- K.J.S. That's you, isn't it?

Look, please. I can't possibly discuss this.

If someone knew I'd leaked those figures,

confirmed they were genuine...

- Please don't drag me into this.

- I won't. It's all right, Kevin.

I don't give away my sources.

It is a genuine report, isn't it?

What's the circulation?

Very limited, I take it.

Just cabinet ministers

and five senior people at Smith Square.

The Deputy Chairman and four senior directors.

Don't ask me anything else.

No, I won't. You've been very helpful.

Stay in touch.

I'd rather not...

- Francis!

- Patrick. Good of you to spare the time.

The Chief Whip says he wants an urgent

word in private, you make time.

I've been wondering what I've done wrong.

I can't think of anything.

Depressing, that -looked at one way.

Still, I suppose it's better than finding

your picture in the "News of the World".

I need to take your mind, Patrick.

This is a meeting that never took place.

All right. If this is what I think it is,

it's come sooner than I thought.

We're in trouble, Patrick. There's a view

around that this is not a passing phase.

This view says that the problem

is the Prime Minister.

His unpopularity is dragging the party down.

He refuses to see the danger.

He's insisted on holding the Dorset

by-election in conference week.

It looks like a bad miscalculation.

You understand, this...

is not necessarily my personal view.

- It's a view I've been asked to put to you.

- Who by?

- One or two senior colleagues.

- Just one or two?

Three, in absolute confidence.

Three very senior colleagues.

All right. Go on.

Do you think Henry still has

what it takes to be Prime Minister?

If he were...persuaded to retire,

would you be interested in taking his place?

Bloody hell, Francis. You don't mess about.

You know I prefer plain speaking

and plain dealing, as you do.

All right. Let's analyse the situation.

First of all, have we really got a problem?

Yes, the polls are bloody terrifying.

Second, do we have to do something?

Can we swing the country round?

That's up to the Prime Minister.

My view is, he does not have what it takes.

The voters don't think he has.

Another election, we'll get stuffed.

That's probably the majority view

on the back benches.

But if we get rid of him so early,

we'll look like a banana republic.

I don't want to be seen as an Idi Amin.

Well, yes. Quite. But you are

still interested in the leadership?

In confidence, of course I bloody am.

I stood against Henry when Margaret left.

I still think I was the best candidate.

If I stood again, I'd look for your support.

But it's too early.

We need time to get the public used

to the idea of a change of leadership.

Move too soon, we'll look like assassins.

Too late, the party will be in pieces.

I'll say one thing, Francis. I'm damn glad

it's you that's handling this.

There's not many men I'd trust with this.

Thank you, Patrick. I appreciate that.

I appreciate your frankness as well.

I'll continue to take soundings

and keep you informed.

Good. As long as we keep

that slimy little sod Samuels out.

Well, yes, quite. Absolutely.

Good talking to you, Patrick.

- You won't miss the party later?

- Wild horses, Francis. Wild horses.

Don't suppose you've got any wild women?

You'd be surprised.

The man's a lout, of course. A lout.

A lecher. An anti-Semite. A racist. And a bully.

But he is more intelligent than he seems.

He is, we mustn't forget, Her Majesty's

Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.

We mustn't make the mistake

of underestimating Patrick Woolton.

Call my secretary if you want to follow this up.

Thank you. I will. Bye for now, then.

- Miss Storin. Mattie.

- Oh, hello.

- You're neglecting me.

- I'm not pestering you.

I feel slighted. Was Michael Samuels illuminating?

Oddly, not nearly as illuminating as you.

- I'm astounded.

- I don't think you are.

How are things? A good conference?

- Apart from your neglect of me, yes.

- That's not my information.

- My information is you're in trouble.

- Really?

- Not you personally.

- That's a relief.

- I was wondering if we could chat.

- Were you, Mattie?

I get the impression that the conference

is in code. It's all about something else.

I haven't had a real conversation

with a real person here.

You think I'll decode the conference

for you? A tall order, Mattie.

I'd settle just for a chat. At least

you're a real person. You ARE real, aren't you?

Oh, yes. I'm a real person.

So...

I'd like very much to spend some time

with you, Mattie, as I think you know.

But this evening I'm otherwise engaged.

A little drinks thing.

Some of my guests are shy of journalists.

They don't like to be seen relaxing.

- Really? Who would that be?

- Mattie, you can't expect me to tell you.

- Who's coming? Tell me one guest.

- Your proprietor, for one, Mattie.

Benjamin Landless? Is he in Brighton?

We get all the riffraff. You'd be surprised.

Telephone call for Mattie Storin.

Don't you think you'd better get that?

Oh, right. Well...

- See you later in the week, perhaps.

- I hope so, Mattie.

Hello. Mattie Storin here.

John, sorry. You got the story all right?

- Yes, we got it.

- Brilliant story, or what?

- Yes, a brilliant story.

- And?

- And we're not running it.

- What?! Let me speak to Preston.

He's in a meeting, He won't run the story

because he thinks you've been set up.

I've checked that survey. It's genuine.

Can we speak to your source?

Of course not. Let me speak to Preston.

He's in a meeting. It wouldn't do any good.

We've backed the government.

We stick with them.

- It's not just you that's been let off.

- Greville's been fixed, hasn't he?

He's there with you, isn't he?

Ask him who got at him. Ask him.

It was Benjamin Landless, wasn't it?

Hold on. A call on the other line.

Hold on for what? There's nothing to talk about!

- Oh, God! That's all I need.

- I'm so sorry. Please allow me to...

Perhaps not. Only make it worse. Um...

- Oh, Lord. Oh, Lord. In trouble again.

- It's all right. Most of it missed.

Are you sure? It was vodka. Very pure.

My mother-in-law cleans silver with it.

May I...buy you a drink, Miss...?

Mattie Storin. No, let my editor

buy you one, Mr Collingridge.

Two large vodkas and tonics. Ice, lemon.

You know who I am? Amazing. Amazing.

- I am a journalist, Mr Collingridge.

- Call me Charlie. Everyone else does.

Why are you in this den of thieves?

Not all thieves. A few good blokes about.

- Like your brother?

- Exactly. Salt of the earth.

That's nice. I'd heard he disowned you.

No, no. He lets people think that.

Best brother in the world, Hal. Looks after me.

Likes to do good by stealth.

Enough said. End of story.

- Cheers. Good health.

- Cheers.

Lord, you are a pretty girl. Oh, no offence.

I've got a daughter your age. Lovely girl.

Lovely face. Never, never see her.

Own fault. Water under the thingy.

Do miss her, though.

No, no! Absolutely not! Get the hell out.

Do I make myself clear?

- Lord, I can't stand that man.

- Don't come back till tomorrow.

Large whisky, and be quick about it.

I gotta go to this goddamn reception.

I need something to line my gut with.

- Charlie!

- Evening, Ben.

One for him, too, I suppose. And you, young lady?

What are you staring at?

Is my zipper undone, or what?

- Am I supposed to know you?

- We haven't met. I am your employee.

Half the hacks in Brighton

are getting wrecked at my expense.

In fact, you've been influential

in getting my story spiked.

Is that so? What was it? "Knit your man

a willy-warmer for Christmas"?

No, it was about the Tories going 30 points behind.

Ah.

You're...Minnie what's-her-name.

- Mattie Storin.

- Yes.

Damn good story.

Wrong damn paper. What do you think

we are? The "New Statesman"? Cheers.

Thanks. Keep the change. Have one yourself.

It's chaps like that that drive chaps to drink.

Could you cope with another one?

Yes. Why not?

- Evening. Jolly good do.

- Thank you.

Not here yet.

I told the bugger, "Any more of that

and you're for Northern Ireland."

- I dare say that called his bluff.

- Wasn't seen on his feet again till 1987.

He's not here yet.

- McKenzie's wife's a genius with a wok.

- Is that so?

I used to think the wok solved everything,

but now I know otherwise.

You really must allow me to give you

my recipe for brill. Brill is a fish.

- Yes...

- Mr O'Neill, how are you?

- Never better.

- Good.

We put the boys down for Wellington.

What do you think?

I don't know. A bit dear. Is it worth it?

Miss Guy! Elizabeth Urquhart.

Really? You write the PM's speeches?

If they chucked me out, it'd be like

a lobotomy for Hal. That's confidential.

Excuse me. Hay fever.

- Ben! Good to see you.

- Never mind that.

What are you boys playing at?

No, I don't want any of these stupid things.

Go away.

I put the whole damn chain of papers

behind your lot, and you cock it up.

Ben, we can't talk here. Walls have ears.

To hell with that. I didn't come 200 miles

for canapés. Where's the bathroom?

- It's over there.

- Great. Let's go.

I've seen that latest poll of yours.

- Girl of mine got hold of it.

- It's just a poll.

Bullshit, my friend. It's disastrous.

But don't worry. I told Greville Preston to pull it.

Ah. Thank you, Ben.

It'll leak, but not till after the by-election.

The Prime Minister will be very grateful.

That limp dick! Where does it leave me?

I wanna buy Transglobal Newspapers.

I wanna buy two ITV regions.

Under Maggie, I knew the score.

Everyone facing the same way,

defending freedom's frontiers.

Everything was up for grabs.

No lame ducks and no sore losers, right?

Now my lawyers are talking

Monopolies and Mergers Commission.

This government won't back me up

because they haven't got the guts.

Hell, Francis.

What sort of country is it when a man

can't spend his money how he likes?

Very true, and very well put, Ben.

Screw "well put". What are we gonna do about it?

Dump Collingridge.

Holy shit!

You really mean that, don't you?

This crisis of confidence

isn't about policy. It's about leadership.

I'm very fond of Henry Collingridge.

I respect him, in many ways.

But we need a strong, right-wing leader

with the courage to defend freedom.

- And increase it.

- Exactly. That's the way Europe's going.

This used to be a country fit for heroes.

Explorers, soldiers, merchant adventurers.

We want a leader who's prepared

to let his dogs off the leash.

- Give us a little room to run, huh?

- Quite.

A leader who's prepared to put himself

about a bit, give 'em some stick.

I like the things you say, Francis.

So...who did you have in mind?

Patrick Woolton would give us what we want.

- You don't want it for yourself?

- What, me? Oh, no, no, no.

I'm just the Chief Whip, Ben.

I just keep the troops in order.

- Chief Whips have made it to the top.

- Well...

If it ever did come to that, I'd make sure

they didn't tie you up in red tape, Ben.

Know you would, Francis. Know you would.

OK, so...let's do it to Collingridge.

Run that poll story for a start, huh?

First edition closes in 40 minutes.

Better make a phone call.

Nice party, Francis.

Atchoo!

Enough about me. How about you?

- Would you be into quickies, Amanda?

- Into what?

So... The party's over.

It's a quiet night. Our fortunes prosper well.

The Foreign Secretary finds succour

from the harsh affairs of state

in the soft fragrance of a daughter of the game.

One for the archives,

if he did but know it.

And all the while, Landless's armies

are labouring for me through the darkness

towards dawn,

telling the story.

A leader out of touch.

A man of straw clutching at straws,

his future closing in front of him like a fist.

Who would be a leader in this wicked world?

Sorry, Prime Minister.

We thought you'd better see it.

Graham, not at breakfast.

Hal was up till four working on his speech.

So were we, Mrs Collingridge.

I'm awfully sorry, but it is very serious.

If you read the paragraph I've marked.

It's not just a leak. It's a personal attack.

"A leading minister commented,

'Our position is being undermined

"'by the leader's lack of appeal.'

"Another senior figure party suggested

"that Henry Collingridge would be invited

to stand down for the good of the party."

Who's doing this? Who is it?

Are they trying to destroy us all?

I want to know who this is, Graham.

I have to know.

Shall I give Lord Billsborough a call?

Yes. No!

No, not Billsborough.

Get Francis Urquhart over.

In my suite in half an hour.

Yes, Prime Minister. Erm...

In view of this report,

with the Dorset by-election today,

you'll want to adjust your speech.

No.

- I really feel that we should...

- It was a good speech at four a.m.

It's still a good speech.

- Urquhart.

- Pat here.

- Patrick, what can I do for you?

- You left your case and took mine.

- Or I hope you did. Could you check?

- Hold on, Patrick.

My dear chap. I'm frightfully sorry.

You're quite right. Shall I bring it round?

- No, I'm on my way. Two minutes.

- Bye.

John, first you pull my story.

Then you print it without my name.

What's going on?

Do you promise not to bite my head off?

All right. I'm sorry about last night,

but I was so bloody angry.

It's not your fault. What happened?

Well, I don't know exactly.

Grev was on the phone for half an hour.

He came out very pleased with himself.

High drama. "Kill the front page."

Grev says he checked your story and it stands up.

- So, who wrote it?

- He did.

Ben Landless was here.

Urquhart had a party. Landless was a guest.

And Woolton, Samuels, Billsborough.

- So it's true.

- It's really happening, John.

They're going to junk Collingridge.

- So stupid of me, Patrick.

- No harm done.

- Good party, Francis.

- Glad you enjoyed it.

- Seen the papers?

- Yes. Bad business.

Bad for some. Not so bad for others.

- Keep in touch, Patrick.

- Right.

Yes. Of course.

Francis, the Prime Minister would like to see you.

- Prime Minister.

- Who is it? Who's betraying me?

Who?

It's Teddy Billsborough.

Are you sure?

No one else it could be.

I'm terribly sorry.

Thank you, Francis.

You're a good man.

The '80s had to be the decade of confrontation.

The '90s will be seen, I think,

as the decade of conciliation.

The decade of cooperation.

The decade of maturity.

Stifling dissent is not going

to help us find The Right Way.

Surely events in Eastern Europe

have taught us that much.

The British, open, democratic process

has been an inspiration to seekers after freedom

in Poland, Russia, Hungary,

and in Czechoslovakia.

And I, for one, am proud of that.

It is only through

frank and open exchange of views

that good government is possible.

Frank and open exchange of views

in an atmosphere of trust.

Pale-faced and clearly agitated,

in his keynote address to conference, comma,

the Prime Minister gave what observers

agree was a lacklustre performance.

Good morning to you, Miss Storin.

And to you.

- Is it a good morning?

- Yes. The result is a little disappointing.

But it's hardly cheering news

for Labour either, is it?

By-elections allow folk to let off steam.

- Funny things happen in Dorset.

- You're not worried?

Oh, we shall take it seriously. It may be

we're not getting our message across.

- Can I quote you on that?

- Yes, I think you may, Miss Storin.

I'm very glad I bumped into you, Mattie.

Another piece of news is going to break.

And I know you'll handle it responsibly.

Lord Billsborough!

No comment!

"In what was described

by a senior government spokesman

"as a fit of pique and panic,

the Prime Minister sacked Lord Billsborough,

"the greatly loved and longest-serving

member of his government."

Pique and panic.

Oh, yes, I'm sure it was.

Your girl was supposed

to be handling things responsibly.

I'm sure she did, Elizabeth.

Someone must have been getting at her editor.

She's proving to be rather a treasure.

You could say that.

- And you trust her?

- Yes.

Up to a point.

If you wanted to be quite certain of her loyalty,

perhaps one night when you're in town

and I'm here in the country...

Well, I should quite understand, Francis.

I'll leave that up to you entirely.

- Thank you, Elizabeth.

Urquhart.

Yes, of course, Prime Minister.

Yes, yes, of course. At once.

- Well, well, well.

- He isn't going to sack you?

He'd better not bloody well try.

The "Observer" rang the Press Office

about a story they're going to run.

They say Charlie's been

buying shares in companies

just before they benefit from government

decisions, and making a killing on them.

- You know Charlie. He hasn't the wit.

- Charlie? Of course he hasn't.

And... Well, he has his weaknesses, Hal.

But he'd never do anything criminal.

Thank you, Francis. God, it's such a relief

to talk to someone with a bit of...

You do believe I know nothing about it?

Absolutely, Hal. Without the slightest reservation.

You're a good man. They say they've got

evidence.

- Bank statements, receipts.

- But nothing that connects it with you?

No, but what else would they assume?

If he has inside information, who from?

- Francis, what am I going to do?

- You're innocent. Tell them you'll sue.

Set your solicitor onto it. Where's your brother?

In his flat. I told him

to take the phone off the hook.

Have to do more. When the "Observer"

hits the streets, he'll be under siege.

Listen, there's a place we use in Kent

for the dipsos and druggies

on the back benches,

sort of safe house cum asylum.

- I'm sorry...

- I know.

I'll get Stamper to fix it. Can someone

who knows him be there? Not you.

- Anne will go.

- Not her.

Francis, we're all he has now.

Right. She'd better go straight away.

Don't worry, Hal. They're very kind.

Absolutely discreet.

Doctor Christian's a very sound man.

It may be a blessing in disguise for Charlie.

You're a tower of strength. Thank you.

Don't embarrass me, Hal. I'm just doing my job.

I don't know what's happening!

No! Get away!

- Go on! Go on!

- Get away, you people!

- A comment for the press, Charlie?

- Get out! Get out!

Where are they taking you, Charlie?

- How bad is it?

- I've seen worse.

Oh, come on. No one's ever been

this low in the polls and won.

- Be the first. Make 'em cry.

- Oh, Francis.

However this comes out, I'll tell the world

what a hell of a man you are.

- What are we up against?

- The "Observer" doesn't implicate you.

Very sensible of them. It'll blow over, Hal.

These things always do. What else?

A run on the pound. Doesn't mean a thing.

It may bother the teenagers in the City

with the Porsches, but voters don't care.

"Leadership crisis"? That cretinous dwarf

Bairsted's forcing a leadership contest.

Want me to lean on him? I'll frighten

the wits out of the little sod, if you like.

Well, he's publicly declared now.

Get him to publicly retract.

Humiliate the little bastard.

But, no. I think you're right, Prime Minister.

Let him come onto the punch.

Knock him down and trample him.

And do the TV interview on Wednesday?

I'd say so, yes. Insist they leave

this Mendox shares nonsense till the end.

By then, everyone will be rooting for you.

It'll seem like an irrelevance, which it is.

Yes. Thank you. We're not finished yet.

Right, stand by, studio, please.

Counting from VT in ten seconds.

- Very quiet.

- Very quiet, please, now. Five...

- All right?

- Yes, fine.

For the last few minutes of this interview,

could we turn to the allegations

about improper share dealing by your brother?

- With pleasure.

- You issued a statement.

You denied any connection with this,

and suggested it was mistaken identity.

That's correct. It's not for me to explain

the "Observer's" extraordinary mistake.

All I can tell you is that none of my family

has anything to do with it.

- You have my word of honour on that.

Solicitors have initiated proceedings

against the "Observer".

They'll do so against anyone who repeats

these false and malicious statements.

- Thank you. We'll bear that in mind.

- That would be wise.

You and your brother deny that either of you

opened an accommodation address

- at a newsagent's?

- Correct.

On Monday of this week, Jane Hartston

of our staff visited the address.

She photographed

envelopes addressed to your brother.

- Now, look here...

- This, clearly marked "Ottoman Union Bank".

The second is addressed to your brother

from the Conservative Party sales office.

I really cannot see any relevance in this.

Quite clearly it is a case of mistaken identity.

- I do have to warn you...

- We thought about the name Charles Collingridge.

Maybe some other Charles Collingridge

took advantage of secret government decisions.

But there's only one Charles Collingridge

listed in the London telephone directory.

Your brother.

Prime Minister, we've almost finished.

Is there anything you would like to say?

Well, the Prime Minister

declines to comment any further

on his alleged involvement

in the Mendox shares scandal.

That's all from us at "World Watch"

tonight. Good night.

Urquhart.

I had a feeling it might be you.

Sorry to disturb you at home. I'd be

very grateful if you give me a few minutes.

Not on the telephone. Come here.

I'd prefer it if you didn't tell your colleagues.

I'll see you in ten minutes.

- He can't survive this, can he?

- I shall rally all the support I can get.

Off the record, it's not going to be easy.

Do you think he told his brother

about those shares?

I find it impossible to believe he'd do that.

I consider him a totally honourable man.

- But?

- But, Mattie?

- Not quite up to his job.

- Mattie, you might very well think that.

You know I couldn't possibly comment.

- I really like talking to you.

- Of course you do.

You love tempting me into indiscretions.

Others give me the party line.

You talk to me like an intelligent human being.

I like talking to you.

I'm interested in you.

You find that strange?

I find it very flattering.

I happen to think

you're the ablest man in this government.

- Oh, no, no, no. You're too kind.

- You underestimate yourself. Shame.

Underestimate myself? In what way?

You underestimate your ability

and your capacity for power, I think.

And I think you underestimate

your personal attractiveness.

Now, that is absurd, Mattie.

You can't expect me to fall for that.

I'm old enough to be your father.

Perhaps that's something to do with it.

Oddly enough, I always wanted a daughter.

My wife and I have no children.

What a very unusual interview

this has turned out to be.

Perhaps we should... No, I must say this.

You mustn't underestimate your abilities.

Really.

You know you could go much further

than you have done, don't you?

Do you think so?

If you put your mind to it...

..I think you could achieve anything you wanted.

You might think that, Mattie.

I'm afraid I couldn't possibly comment.