As we enter the third week (Subtitles Edited by Abhishek Shandilya)
I find Mr Tickle's attention-seeking, tent-based twattery
even more annoying than in weeks one and two.
We haven't made him, we just sold his house.
What do you put into the Networked Nation? Well...
I am... a minister.
Look at this, no missed calls.
I used to have missed calls piling up like fucking pizza leaflets.
I suppose it means everything's fine. How was your evening?
Really nice.
We managed to get a table at Mishkin's. Oh.
And you? Ah, a bit of a quiet one.
Just a bottle of pinot and Twitter-abusing the cast of Glee.
Was kind of wonderful in its own way.
Malcolm, can I have a couple of words?
Political lightweight? Making up the numbers?
Sorry, that's four, isn't it? Lovely, lovely, yeah, you still got it(!)
But, erm, seriously, can I just, er...
'Don't take too wide a step.' 'Start with the right.'
'Yes. OK, so relax.'
Cenotaph, here.
Right. OK? Off you go.
Yeah, I think that's too slow.
A minute ago you said I was too fast.
You look like Sleeping Beauty, that's just weird.
You look like you've been dug up. OK.
Do you remember when you got married?
I'd rather fucking not. OK, Nicola...
Olly, shit! I had it then.
Right, sorry to interrupt you at this very sad time,
er, but we do have Prime Minister's Questions in one hour.
No, it's fine, I've got the lead question,
I've got the follow up sarcastic question
and I've got the withering put down, so I'm prepped, I'm fucking prepped.
Yep, you'll walk rings round him(!)
Erm, this does seem to be taking an awfully long time.
Is that too bouncy? What do you mean "bouncy"?
Cos that's helping with my balance but if it looks... Bouncy?!
It is too bouncy. Well, that's... You've over exaggerated now.
It's like you've got rickets.
Its Remembrance Sunday. That's what your face should be doing - remembering.
Think of a sad thing and rememb... Not remembering!
You don't want to be going along going, "Oh, that reminds..."
Is that what you do when you're remembering?
I think I've got it, I've got it. Right, let's see. Look, watch.
I'm starting with my left foot but never mind that.
Now my shoe's coming off.
The leader of the opposition is in that room, Malcolm,
practising walking.
I mean, baby horses can walk from the womb.
She's one-nil down to a pony!
A pony isn't a baby horse, it's a foal, a fucking foal is a baby horse.
Right, our guest tonight on I Don't Give A Fuck About Baby Horses is me.
We need to do something about Nicola.
I mean, you know about her plan? I mean, Nicola with a plan?!
That's like a... toddler with a harpoon.
There's a toddler wandering around in that office with a harpoon.
Yes, well, don't you worry about Nicola's plan...
I'll deal with that Sweaty Betty.
Listen, when you wake up in the morning, you've got a routine, haven't you?
Big shit, granola, check the e-mail, shower and a shave, Nespresso...
sometimes a second shit.
Exactly, you have a plan, that's good.
Nicola has a plan, that's not good...
but I have a plan that's fucking great.
And then I bow?
It's more of a nod, anyway.
Yeah, it's, sort of, "All right, dead-oes?", but a bit more solemn.
Remember to put the wreath down this time.
I didn't actually not put it...
It got caught in my glove, I told you.
Oh, that's very moving, "They shall not grow old,"
"who photocopy their arses at the Christmas do."
Look, I don't want to show myself up
in front of 5,000 uniformed pensioners again.
I'm glad you're thinking about those pensioners
cos those are the poor fuckers who gave everything
so people like you could play at running the country. Oh nice.
Olly, walk with me.
Er, forwards or backwards?
Malcolm!
You'd get a much better response from her if you didn't bully her.
Sweetheart, she should be doing the bullying.
She should be taking the PM's lunch money and using his arse as a fruit machine,
not practising throwing a straw frisbee in slow motion!
I don't think you got enough cuddles as a child.
So how do we engage with this demographic?
The first thing is, is first of all, knowing who we're talking about,
then finding a name for them.
People who would do something for nothing.
They are mugs. Mugs do something for nothing.
Erm, how about, "deserving work force"?
Why are you laughing, does it sound a bit Pravda-ish?
What, handbags?
Pravda! Soviet newspaper.
This is the sort of person, they find an umbrella on a bus,
they go all the way to the depot just to give it back.
They're commuters, they are the street pounders,
street walkers, er...
You can't call them "street walkers"!
They're the people who deal with the little stuff, erm...
Wombles. Honest Wombles. Everyday Wombles...?
Sorry, I've just got to take a call. Erm, straights?
No. No? No, of course, sorry.
Commuting Champions?
Inter-rail... Human inter-railers...
"Human inter-railers"? That's inter-railers.
Er, everyday superstars...
All-British supremes...
Fuck, that sounds like a racist tribute band.
Ordinary people with, with something special about them,
with a special power. Please, don't say "special".
Don't say special. No, but, you know, like, people as superheroes.
Iron people, spider people... They're just regular citizens
but they have this, that one special quality
that makes them like Batman or Batpeople. Erm, the quiet...
Batpeople.
Quiet Batpeople?
No, that's not it.
That's the general area we're looking at, is what I'm saying.
It's just a marker.
Yep, shall we wrap it up and make a move? Shad Cab?
Yes. Don't, don't say "Shad Cab".
Don't... Why not? Cos it's Shadow Cabinet, isn't it?
It's like saying spag bol.
Fuck annoy!
All very worthwhile. What a session. "Quiet Batpeople"?
What's she doing, is she fucking sniffing the pens at night?
This is every day.
This is what we do every day, scat all day.
Jizz FM! Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!
What's going on in that abandoned barn of a brain of hers?
This is, this can't go on - this is fucking suicide.
Malcolm, I know, I know, I know.
I mean, Nicola...
she's a nice lady - especially when she's drunk. Yes!
Karaoke, you can't take her karaoke off her. Fucking wish I could!
She's going to have to fall on her sword.
Which means that we have to stick one in the ground, trip her onto it,
get someone to jump up and down on her back for ten minutes!
Nothing personal. Nothing personal, of course not! Of course not.
So, Ben tells me you have a plan.
Anything I should be worrying about?
You're not going to found a religion, are you?
Reshuffle? Don't send Ben to the backbench
cos he'll just wank and eat Pringles.
Leather seats are an invitation to him. Morning.
You'll never get in. Ha-ha!
Cock!
New party logo - a kitten.
A kitten in a sock. Kitten in a sock, sitting on a motorway, shouting,
"Help me, I don't know what to do!" Getting close?
All right, look, I just think we need to show,
we need to be seen to accept
that there are tough decisions to be made.
So, I thought it would be a good idea if we publicly agreed
with two government policies that we previously opposed.
That's all.
Can we talk about this? Yes absolutely, Malcolm.
We'll, we'll talk about this in Cabinet, OK?
I'll be talking, you'll be nodding.
I'm struggling here, you want us to agree with the government?
Not on everything, obviously.
No, we're just going to back two government policies...
the coastguard pay freeze
and the end of ring-fenced funding for primary school breakfast clubs.
So, what?
We're now in favour of drowning sailors and starving children?
We are, technically, the opposition. Can I be devil's advocate here for a moment?
Nicola's right, of course, she's right,
but we should at least think about what Dan has to say here
because we've already seen one set of quisling wankers
cross the floor and join JB's barmy army.
If the opposition now join them
everyone will just be facing half an empty fucking chamber.
Yeah, it's important that we rise above partisan politics, Dan...
so that, Dan, so that we can take our poll ratings with us.
Malcolm? Malcolm...
Sorry.
Could you not, talk behind my back? Thank you. Sorry.
Now, you know, if you don't think that message is clear,
then that's fine but it is your job to clarify it.
Fine. Good. OK, great.
Before we finish,
I just want to throw one more pebble into the thought pool.
Ploop. Sorry, Ben, I missed that.
Just, sorry, I said "ploop".
It's just the noise of a pebble being dropped.
Er, we're still having a bit of trouble
connecting with the, the ordinary voter.
The, erm, the silent majority.
Erm, Malcolm, can you talk us through our session this morning?
Well, for the record, I do think that this is a good idea.
Do you mind if I...? Helen, can I borrow your notes a second...
Oh, I should say, actually, none of this is set in stone.
You know, they're, they're not even set in Plasticine!
So, the marker for this target demographic is Quiet Batpeople.
As I say... "Quiet Batpeople"?!
Quiet Batpeople, it's everyday superheroes.
There's a big tick next to that here. Everyday heroes like...
like vigilantes?
It's ordinary people, not vigilantes.
Don't worry your pretty little head about it.
"Little" being the operative word, "pretty" not.
Helen's written here, "Normality as a kind of superpower."
OK, I'm sensing, er, opposition.
Good, cos earlier you were talking about getting rid of that(?)
So, I would like everybody to take the idea away
and just let it percolate.
OK, good, er...
Oh, poppies!
Last thing, can we just make absolutely sure
we have them on at all times.
Jackets, coats...
Or batsuits.
Wear your poppies or you will be shot at dawn!
(Thank you.)
Yes, thank you(!)
Well, I had more fun at my last mammogram!
Oh, no, you were fine.
Well, maybe... You fox-faced fuck!
Dan The-demi-man Miller, interview with The New Statesman...
he says that he, "pledges himself to change the fractured"
"and shaky narrative at the heart of the party."
Arse! Well, I'm pledging myself to find Dan Mr Smoothie Miller
and fracture and shake him into an actual fucking smoothie.
Looks like a fun runner's lost his way.
Why are there bits of food wandering about?
Are you for the chop? It's a fucking hack pack.
Any comment on Dan Miller's article? No comment, be gracious,
smile, look good. No questions.
Are you for the chop, Mrs Murray? Oh, it's a chop!
Oh, it's that dick from The Mirror who... Are you top of the chops?
Ha-ha-ha, very funny. Thank you.
You, fuck off! Get back to the fucking Flintstones.
Turn up like that again I'll fucking stick that down your throat
and pull it out your arse.
That's enough. I don't even do things I enjoy for that long! That's it!
No questions, Nicola's got a government to bring down.
No comment, no comment, thanks very much.
Why did we have to stand there smiling like that?
You think it'd be better if you were seen in tears?
I just think my face next to a chop does not look good
unless I'm applying for a job in Asda!
Why pictures of her coming from Shadow Cabinet?
Maybe they don't want pictures of her, maybe they want you.
Maybe they want pictures of an over-botoxed Nancy Dell'Olio?
Right, the first chance you get just go and deal with Dan.
Tear him a new bum or whatever it is people say.
Right, right, right, right, right.
I mean, what would possess you to walk about the streets
with notes just... there for anybody to see?
They're my notes but they're your shit suggestions.
Well, I'm not the one flapping them about in such a way
that the press can take pictures of them! How was I to know?
They were taking a photo of Nicola... Cos you're an adult...
"Quite Batpeople" on every fucking paper!
Right, this is a wake-up call.
By the way, the next time you want to make Nicola look like a clown,
with her fucking hair on fire,
why don't you just take your notes down to Snappy Snaps
and get them blown up to gigantic cheque size
so the partially sighted can be in on the fucking gag?!
I didn't know they'd be able to see it!
So we have to seize the agenda,
we have to deflect attention away from all this.
It's now time to embrace our friend Mr Tickle.
I can't say his name without smiling.
Well, he's not smiling, is he?
He's living in a tent cos his key worker housing was sold off.
Yes and he's a 24 carat fucking nutcase.
Which means that Peter Mannion
has been picking on a man with a history of depression.
That's a way right into the principality of pricks, right there.
Yeah, and that's exactly what they will expect me to do.
They'll know about his mental health records as well.
They'll just be waiting for me to attack and I'm not going to
and that will surprise them.
I think that you and I need to have a little talk.
A proper talk.
Like when mummy explains why daddy's going to be in the papers tomorrow.
Out. You mean you'd like us to go?
Yes, into exile, preferably. Bhutan's nice.
I need to know that you're really on top of things, actually, Malcolm.
I do my fucking job!
Well, do you do your fucking job out of a sense of obligation
or are you doing it because you actually believe in me?
Oh, let me boomer-fucking-rang that one right back at you, do you believe in you?
Cos I can't see any fucking fire in your eyes.
I can't even see the clicking of the, of the pilot light
to try and get a tiny, little flame going.
What I do see is that you might at any day decide,
"Oh, I've fucking had enough," and go off and get a blanket from the car.
I slightly resent what you're saying.
The fact of the matter is, I do not believe in my heart of hearts...
that you're hungry for power.
You've got no idea how hungry for power I am.
You have to really fucking want to do this. This is what I'm telling you!
I fucking want this... Shit, people can hear me.
I am hungry for this, yes!
Well, you've got to be as hungry as a fucking Hutu
in the fucking jungle with a big machete.
You've got to go hacking through the fucking opposition
with a big fucking belt full of hands and a necklace made of ears.
Can you do that?
Yes. Can you wear a necklace made of ears?
I can be a Hutu...
I can wear fucking fingernail bracelets, I can...
do this, Malcolm, yes.
That's what we need to see.
Yeah, I promise you, I can deliver.
I can see that.
She's got Bette Davis eyes.
You're going to do this. Brilliant, thank you, Malcolm.
Fucking useless.
She is unstoppable and she loves you.
Because a wine tasting is not a night out, it's an admission of defeat.
You might as well go to...
Er, Jo, I'll call you back.
Hiya, I thought you were bollocking Dan Miller?
Oh, I am.
Right, is he...?
I'm in the middle of slamming his smug face
into a verbal deep fat fryer.
You know Dan, of course, don't you? Why don't you sit down and join us?
Er... Join us!
I don't know if you've met Mrs Susan Doherty?
Mrs Doherty is a quiet fucking batperson, or a fucking motorway mingebag,
or whatever the fuck we're calling these fickle shits this week.
I'm going to get a coffee, do you want anything?
I'll have a fucking Fanta. OK.
You know what I think I did wrong last year?
I think I set off on the wrong foot
because I actually have a bit of a problem with left and right.
It's like directional dyslexia or dyspedia, dys...
It's one of the dys... Oh, I'm doing it now.
For goodness sake. Oh, is this more quiet bat guano?
This Week would like to photograph politicians
wearing underpants over their clothes.
And Grazia would like to know
what you carry in your utility belt and why?
I'll say you're not interested. I'm fucking not interested.
I'm only interested in working out which of my feet is which.
So we need to be rid of Nicola.
Rid of her? She's tank.
She's fucking electoral asbestos. Wow, so... you, you want to...?
I want this party back in power where we can help people.
I don't know whether you've noticed but we haven't got any fucking power.
We can't help anyone. We're like a family in a Cuban slum.
We're out in the middle of nowhere. We're in the fucking... middle of the ocean,
with our own Ellen MacArthur sobbing, crying - enough.
Over the side she goes.
She's going to sleep with the fishes.
Or at least witter on at them until they
fucking lose the will to live. So, do you...?
(Do you have a plan?)
Optimum time for her to step down is eight months from now.
Over that period she has to be very gently dislodged...
like a tick from a cat's ear.
You set up that batpeople photo!
Olly, I'm shocked at you suggesting that.
Jiminy Fuckmas, Malcolm! I don't know about any of this.
It's time for you to step up, Olly. What's that film that you love?
What film? The one about the fucking hairdresser,
the space hairdresser and the cowboy.
The guy, he's got a tinfoil pal and a pedal bin.
His father's a robot and he's fucking fucked his sister.
LEGO, they're all made of fucking Lego.
Star Wars. That's the one, right.
It's like that, OK? You want to fucking kill the bad guys.
And you'll be able to blow up the big... The Death Star.
The Death Star thing.
Then you can go and live happily ever after
on the planet of the teddy bears. They're Ewoks, Ewoks.
It's a fantastic analogy, well done.
Are you, are you absolutely sure about this, Malcolm?
Well, not really, no...
but it's worth a punt, isn't it?
Good. Life is interesting at last...
I've been so fucking bored for the last two years.
Bonnie Langford's paying.
It's a good speech, I think. Does it need a bit of a...? Rethink.
I was going to say trim.
Are you going to address the batpeople thing in the speech?
No, I might walk on stage to the theme tune!
Just make sure you're not wearing anything
that can be photographed like a cape.
Oh, Malcolm, did you see Dan?
I saw him and I fucking eviscerated him.
What did you say?
He crumpled like a crisp packet on a cooker.
He's now just a small pool of grease and regret, isn't he?
Yeah, yeah, you can only see him under UV lights now.
How do you know? Were you there?
Yeah, yeah. Malcolm flayed his skin off,
he's going to use it as his onesie. That's him just coming in.
Don't say anything.
Don't humiliate him any further - that's my fucking job.
Give us your dinner money! I haven't got dinner money, I bring a packed lunch.
Fuck that. I don't want one of your home-made fucking feta parcels.
I presume you need to bollock me for my disloyalty
in doing that New Statesman thing, so why don't we... I already have.
This morning - were you not there? Can't say I recall it.
Would it be cheeky if I invited you onto the veranda?
I've got a little matter I'd like to discuss with you.
We're lovers, deal with it.
I suppose the key question is,
is Dan Miller going to pull the same stunt again?
Well, I mean, I think, after what he's just been through with Malcolm,
Dan's crushed! He's just in the shower crying, with his clothes on!
Dan? Dan Miller? Yeah, Malcolm gave him a right old... K'cher!
He gave him a cash register?
No, that was me cracking a whip, plainly!
Well, shame I missed that, where was, er, where was this?
It was in the back stairwell.
That's right by my office. I'm surprised I didn't hear that.
I mean, I can hear fat Pat's farts bouncing off the walls
when she has to take the stairs if the lift's bust.
Well, it was, sort of, you know, he did it in a lower tone.
Special, kind of, terrifying... He calls it, erm, whisper boarding.
It's not a healthy sign when the deputy attacks the leader
but maybe we should embrace this point of no return.
Are you saying you agree with what I wrote?
I'm saying that I spoke to Nicola earlier,
to gauge the fire in her belly,
and now I'm standing in a cupboard with you.
What's the worst thing that he said?
Oh, well, he said, er, "Fuck right off, you fucker!"
Really? Well, I once used the last tea bag
and Malcolm pushed me up against a wall and called me Noncey Sinatra - that seems tame.
Well, like I say, it was, it was, it was mainly in the tone, Ben.
I didn't hold the door open for him and he called me a minge mop.
Yeah, but he likes Dan.
Ooh!
Did you need me?
Nope, nope.
So, your loyalty to Nicola is...?
Unwavering.
Right up to the point that...
Someone challenges her?
Not necessary, she's going to kick her own head in,
which will be easy for her because she does yoga.
We just need someone to hold her jacket
while she commits political hara-kiri
and sweep in unopposed...
being careful not to tread in the mess.
So, you think...
I should challenge her? What the fuck is this?
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Cunt?!
Do you or do you not want to be the next leader of this party?
Yes.
Well, she needs to fuck off in eight months,
so it looks like we're giving her a chance.
I will teach you the way of tears and love, my friend.
Now let's get out of this fucking cupboard
before Ben Swain comes in for his lunchtime wank.
And I agree that we no longer have the luxury,
the privilege of thinking in the abstract about politics.
How's Martina Luther King doing?
It's like that old show Faking It.
She's a shit politician pretending to be a,
pretending to be, er, a mediocre one.
What's that text? It's not a text.
Show me the text. It's telling me to tell you to mind your own business.
Show me the text! No, no, get off.
Show me. No, get off, it's a girl sexting me, Malcolm.
Practising for Strictly. Get off my fucking...
Give me my fucking...
What is this tiny font?
Is it to match your subatomic thoughts?
Give me my phone, Malcolm.
"As I thought, we're dropping BC," what does that mean?
That's my friend who works in education.
The government are dropping the reforms
to the primary school breakfast club policy.
OK, let's rewind here a bit, stick man.
Nicola is about to adopt a policy that is so toxic
that this stony-hearted government of fucking puppy killers is dropping it?
Yeah. Shit in my porridge.
Get a dart gun and go and fucking kill her.
No, no, think about it. This is exactly what we want, right?
No, think about it, this isn't what we want. This is too soon.
The mechanics of the leadership election are not in place.
Right, we've got to get her off that stage.
Go and piss in a fuse box, or finger a security guard.
I'll bundle her out during the melee. We need to stop Nicola announcing.
Rumour has it that the government is going to
- drop the breakfast club policy. - Oh, shit!
But just a rumour, yeah?
Yes, I'm just getting it You need to signal her to stop.
You've got a signal? Er... We never agreed on one.
You don't have a fucking signal? You must, from Hampstead Heath?
Didn't Nicola mention something about iceberg?
As in you're going to crash into an iceberg. OK, how do I do that?
That's subtle(!) Get in, whatever it is. I'll do a triangle.
In times of deep crisis, tribal politics can act as a break upon it.
And it's down... to us to rise above this and think...
What is that? Breached birth? It's a fucking iceberg.
Upside down uterus. Shut up, Olly!
..that we're endorsing fully and unreservedly
a pay freeze for the coastguard.
And an end to the ring-fencing of funds
to provide primary school breakfast clubs.
We are in concurrence with the government
because we are in unity with the British people.
Any questions?
Mrs Murray, did you know that the government have just announced
that they are dropping the reform on primary school breakfast clubs?
(Pretend you heard another question.)
Er, yes, yes, we, er, yes.
Breakfast, er, really is a...
really is a meal for the whole family, er, and, er...
I think that we regard that as...
You've got some nice fake concern going on there, Malcolm.
I'm sorry?
Undermining Nicola. You're getting off on this.
You've got some sort of agenda.
Don't you dare question my loyalty to my leader or my party ever again.
And don't flatter yourself into thinking that
you can divine my motives or actions.
You are a mouse in a maze.
..now that's not to say that if you don't have a family you,
you can't enjoy breakfast.
Plainly, you can and you should
because, erm, because it is the most important meal of the day,
especially if you've been fasting during Eid.
I'm dead, aren't I? Why didn't you stop me?!
I tried to warn you.
Oh, with the triangle thing. W.T.Fuck was that?
Iceberg. Not to scale, obviously.
The iceberg you were heading for was much, much bigger than that.
Do you know what I thought it was? Hash brown.
You see a triangle and the first thing that comes to your mind is hash brown? No...!
Bye-bye. Thank you.
Not the first thing, the first thing I thought was pyramid.
Pyramid, the signal being...? Being everything's fine.
You know, everybody likes pyramids.
Do we know why the fuckers dropped it?
Even the Etonian mess over at number ten has to acknowledge
that people hate the policy.
It's taking food out of children's mouths.
It is kind of the opposite of Comic Relief.
Well, then you should have stopped me!
You could have created a diversion...
you could have gone in there and set yourself on fire
or got your tits out and shouted, "Oh, there's a big lion!",
I don't know.
Just something, just anything
rather than leave me in there committing career suicide
by starving small children.
And you, Malcolm, the one time in my life
I would've been actually pleased to see you. Where the fuck were you?
Sorry. Can you U-turn maybe?
No, that was a U-turn - if I do another U-turn it's an O-turn.
Am I dead? No. No, no.
Cos I feel like I'm dead.
I feel like on Sunday I should just put the poppy wreath round my neck
and take 40 paracetamol. No, don't worry.
Look, we're all still Team Nicola. We'll fight for you, won't we?
Can somebody get me a coffee, please? God, yeah.
Hold the wreath in your right hand...
It's going to be heavier, isn't it? It's a practise wreath, I haven't weighed them.
Down, two... three, frown, two... three,
up and walk backwards.
Just copy the Queen, if in doubt.
That's going to have to do.
Good luck! Just, you know, knock 'em dead in a silent respectful manner!
Yeah. Phone off.
Ho-ho! Helen given you the wreath lecture?
Oh, come on, Nicola, you'll be absolutely fine.
I couldn't eat breakfast.
I felt like I'd personally ripped it out of the hands
of some malnourished infant. Stop it. Stop it.
The first rule of breakfast club is we do not talk about it.
That's it for now.
It's not just that, my head's full of bat.
Because of the hat?
What? No because of the... Does this look like a bat?! No!
I was going to say it doesn't look like a...
It looks, it's more Mickey Mouse, isn't it? The hat?
Or Minnie Mouse, it's Minnie Mouse. Not bat.
Fuck off, Olly. OK.
Just wreath up that bad boy! OK. Yeah.
'Oh, and the DPM is up next.'
Firm grasp on the wreath, there.
He's aiming for the steps.
Top step! And that is...
magic poppies.
Oh, here we go.
She's flustered, isn't she?
That's the problem. She'll be fine.
Oh, my God.
Bollocking poppy wank!
Why is she hovering in the middle?!
You're right, she can't fucking walk.
I mean, shall we get a pony
to challenge her?
It's not a fucking pony, it's a fucking foal.
Sorry.
I don't understand how
- you can get that wrong. - It's this! Da, da, clonk!
She is officially a ceno-twat.
Fabulous work. Let's just, er... bury her in a grave...
The Unknown Leader.
I can't watch. I feel a bit sick.
I just hope there is no afterlife
because if people fought
and died for this.
It is going to seem even more ridiculously futile.
Why do you know so much about horses anyway?
'I thought you were raised by wolves.'
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First thoughts? We're policy jamming here.
Yes and ho.
Let's Macintyre this. Stand up.
I feel like I've joined the Scientologists.
Do you want to have an idea-gasm? Yes, please.
She's some kind of economist.
I think we're looking at about two billion.
I quite like Emily Maitlis.
I'm sure she'd love a grey pounding.
Is this what we came into politics for?
Yep. That and the pussy.