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.