We both know we don't like each other. Everyone knows that.
We are the Gallagher brothers of politics.
You're all over the newspapers like a pissing puppy, Malcolm.
That's what we masters of the dark arts call a blip.
We need to start booting up this crime stats enquiry.
Julius, what is the deal?
JULIUS: At the moment, Malcolm is getting the sack.
You fucking speak! You've always fucking got something to say.
- I'm only a cabinet minister! - Fuck off, then.
Malcolm Tucker has resigned.
(ALL CHEERING)
Happy days!
You will fucking see me again!
MAN 1: Malcolm? MAN 2: Malcolm?
MAN 3: Malcolm?
I can't comment. Let me in. Now.
- What are you going to do now? - Watch the hedge. Watch the hedge.
I'm just trying to get home, please.
Show's over, okay? Fucking bacteria.
(REPORTERS CALLING OUT)
You know, I just can't quite believe this.
I mean, this is the single most shocking thing I've seen in politics
since the SDP.
I thought he'd at least go out with a bang or a killing spree.
I always imagined he'd just shout so hard
his lungs would come up and choke him to death.
- (EMMA CHUCKLES) - MANNION: End of an era.
Yeah, a really shit era though, isn't it?
(PHIL WHOOPING)
- Yeah, all right, calm down. - Balrog's dead!
I mean, that's it. I mean, they're done.
I mean, no one can replace him. It's like when Queen lost Freddie.
You know. Certainly not Paul Rodgers.
All right, everyone. That's the two seconds of respect due to him,
now get back to your desks and do something, okay?
Not the sofa. Who are you, Lorraine Kelly?
Get out here and do something. If you've nothing to do, leave,
because you're clearly surplus to requirements.
Um, lads and lasses.
(LAUGHING)
Please, just a quick word. Thank you.
Really, it's just a hand-hold
to set the tone for a slightly re-jigged regime.
I've done all the important departments and now I've got to you.
(LAUGHS)
Seriously, I've done that joke everywhere but...
Even with the genuinely big departments. So I'm not...
(IMITATES GUN FIRING)
...aiming at you in any sort of a snide way.
I'm just checking that we're all at the very top of our games.
- Glenn, mate? - Sorry.
- Are you on top of your game? - On top?
I am above my game.
I'm in a geo stationary orbit, way above it
looking down and going, "Hello, game, it's Glenn."
(LAUGHS) Right.
You know, there's an election looming. This is quite a serious time.
We need to be aware of that.
But I love humour and that was good humour.
Do you want to swim the Channel for Scope?
No!
Do you want to do Dragons' Den for Children in Need?
I'd rather fuck a real dragon.
Would you consider promoting a politically themed restaurant?
How does that even work? Oh, fuck no. I don't care.
Would you like to write a children's book
called The Angry Spider?
So, everything, good.
Yeah, you know, a bit of instability with Malcolm gone,
a sort of sense of post, you know, psychotic twats disorder, but...
No, no, listen, I understand. But you know,
right now you're all emerging from the cellar,
pleased that the beatings have stopped,
scared of what the future might hold,
but long-term, I think we're all going to be okay.
Pep talk over.
Return to your desks and prepare for government.
We're in government.
Well, then, prepare to stay in government.
- Oh, right. How do we do that? - We pack an overnight bag.
Would you please fucking well...
(LAUGHS)
Do you know, I'm sorry. I lost my temper.
Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?
Oh, I know, I've found it again. It's all right.
Always in the last place you look, eh?
So, can I?
- Yeah. - Great.
Uh, actually, can I have a word with you, Nicky, please?
Yeah. Nicola.
I just wanted to check.
Obviously, Dan Miller's cabal
is going house to house through the cabinet
looking for numbskulls stupid enough to resign
to trigger his elevation to the throne.
- Obviously. - What I need to know is
are you solid?
Yeah, I am completely... I am solid as the proverbial.
As a rock, as a rock-hard...
As a sailor's wang on shore leave.
Superb.
You really are the potty mouth, aren't you?
(LAUGHS) Well, a lot to do.
Olly, Glenn, in here now. Quick, quick, quick.
Oh, Glenn, don't faff about with your glasses.
I know you take them off
every time you come in here. It's not impressive.
What do we know about the anti-Tom cabal?
Why have I not been contacted by them?
- Well, um, ah... - Because it would be you...
You're seen very much as an individual around the...
That's bollocks, isn't it?
It's 'cause I'm the girl at the party nobody wants to dance with.
I'm the freak in the corner with a pint of cider and blackcurrant
- and the funny eye. - No, no. I mean, it's...
You know, it's a big Rolodex full of numbers. I'm sure...
Thank you. You may go.
(STAMMERS) We still would like to dance with you.
Oh, fuck off. Go and put your glasses back on.
- Malcolm. - Sarah Jennings.
Welcome to the BBC. Did you have any trouble getting here?
No. I had trouble getting in. They thought I was a terrorist.
Oh!
(LAUGHS) If you'd like to take a seat down there.
So, we're really very excited.
Yeah, this could be the highlight of my career.
And I've taken a dump in the White House.
(CHUCKLES)
See, that's great banter. That's exactly what we're looking for.
Is it?
So, this pitch. It's for the sort of person
who tried coke once, but didn't like it.
It's a BBC Three show, yeah? It's...
It's a bullshit description, but, you know, it paints a picture.
- Who didn't like coke? - That sort of thing.
(CHUCKLES) Oh!
Yeah, so the idea is you're going to be talking to other people
who, like you, have been through the shit.
For this, I was thinking
Brian Keenan. Uh, Kerry Katona.
Sorry, do you mind? I'm sorry, I've got to take this.
- Just give me a second. - Yeah, no. No, no, no worries.
We'll continue this, yeah?
Hello?
SARAH: Uh... Oh, he seems cool.
Oh, hello. Where did you go for lunch, Belgium?
I was meeting a friend.
GLENN: Oh! OLLY: Right.
Meanwhile, back in Gotham City,
the Express is running the idea that your victim support scheme
is actually a rapists' charter.
And, um, Steve Fleming wants you to do some local media.
There's this guy who's very angry.
His dead mum keeps getting sent parking tickets.
- So can we cover that, please? - So dead mum, rapists.
Yeah. All good.
Olly, could you assemble a policy profile for me
for the Centre for Economic Reform out of Yale?
Yes, I can. Uh, why?
Just curiosity. It's a very interesting think tank.
Haven't been offered a job or anything, have you?
You might comment, I couldn't possibly say yes.
I mean, if you've been offered a job we'd better start,
you know, looking around for something to do ourselves.
No, you can't start planning an exit from this department.
That would undermine me.
Nicola, there's someone called Hannah on line three.
- Yes. - She's from the Centre for Economic...
Thank you. Please scram. Sod off.
- Get out. Don't go looking for jobs. - So what do you reckon?
Well, sod that. We'd better put some feelers out.
But, you know, we'll do it discreetly.
Yeah, like you do on the Tube.
Well, I suppose it is the end now, isn't it, for you two?
The full stop after all those commas. A few little semi-colons on the way.
Well, I wouldn't be quite so smug, Terri,
because I heard from very good sources
that the opposition will be getting the Fucker in.
Yeah, that's what I heard, too.
They're definitely getting the Fucker in.
- I haven't heard that. That's... - The Fucker, he coming.
- No, that... - He coming to your town.
You do know why they call him the Fucker,
don't you, Terri?
- Yes. - No, sorry, not you.
Is it because he's a bit of a fucker?
So it's not going to be easy for Peter Mannion.
He's not going to be reading The Wind in the Willows,
sipping chamomile tea.
He's going to have a crash helmet on, bent over,
doing his best to be heard over a force 10 fucking from the Fucker.
Piers, hello.
ANDREW NEIL ON TV: Even three months won't be long enough.
(MOBILE PHONE RINGING)
Hello, Philip Schofield. I fuck lobsters for money.
Oh?
- Take the rice first. - MALCOLM: Thank you.
I want you to be very clear, Malc, about why it is that I brought you in.
That's fine. That's fine.
Do you know what hat it is that I'm wearing?
Is it your baldy swimming cap wig?
No, it is my government troubleshooter stetson,
which is a long way from my homburg of sober enquiry.
Do you know that I'm thinking about doing a television programme?
Well, I had heard something on the grapevine.
Yeah, it's good. You know that programme Civilisation with Kenneth Clarke?
- Oh, yes. - It's going to be like that
except with fucking more quim, you know?
It's me, Simon Schama and Alan Yentob in a cage,
fucking lump hammer each, whacking the shit out of each other.
The last man standing wins a fucking Ford Focus.
The thing is, Malcolm,
your departure has basically precipitated a call-to-arms, in effect.
We have it on reasonably good authority
that there are between three to four cabinet ministers who are disgruntled
and are planning a mass resignation.
And that means, very simply, a Dan Miller coronation.
And as my nephew would say,
"This shit just got real."
- Your nephew? - Yeah, he's at Charterhouse.
Only a day boy, not a boarder.
Anyway, the fact is it has to be stopped.
Um... There have been a number of ideas being tossed around.
And one of them is would you be prepared to come back?
Are you out of your tiny, shiny fucking mind?
Look, we can do this simply.
Step one. Are you interested? Of course you are.
Step two. Will you come back?
Yes?
Superb. Step three, and this is the important step,
will you use your considerable influence to destroy the cabal?
Can I drop it down?
Fan-dabi-dozi! Step four. It's party time.
Let's tool up with basmati rice and...
Wahey!
You're asking me to come back here and mop up
the fucking splatter from my own assassination?
You know where the bodies are buried.
And we'll just say you're coming back to advise.
It's election strategy.
It's not a day-to-day government business role.
I can't come back in here unless I know I'm in the clear in your report.
I am not in a position to discuss that. Not with my current hat on.
However, would I be sat here now
if the man in the other hat, which is also me,
wasn't sure that everyone involved in this enquiry
didn't come out relatively well?
And what about Steve Fleming, yeah?
You schizo hat fuck.
Let me put it this way.
You see this onion bhaji?
Let us pretend for a minute that that onion bhaji
is the problems that would be caused
by a report that criticised you or Steve Fleming.
Hmm?
Watch.
You see what I'm doing? I'm eating the onion bhaji.
Why?
Because I am the man that makes the bhaji go away.
There's a rumour that you're getting the Fucker in.
Are you lot getting the Fucker in?
Well, look, if you are just say the word "Fucker".
- Uh... I'll call you back. - Hey.
Tintin's sexy sister.
- You're back. Are you back? - I'm back like ballroom dancing.
And I need your help, my little Fuckbob Shitpants.
Right. Um, well, okay.
I need you to hook me up to a printer. I need a printer.
This is some weight.
I won't do any blow-job jokes if you don't, mate.
Uh, yeah, copy that, mate.
Listen, just because somebody has to kill people for a living,
it doesn't make them a killer. Do you know what I mean?
Not hugely, Malcolm, no.
Anyway, what's the story, fuckanory?
- What's been happening? Come on. - Nothing much, really.
Um, just, only a bit of turbulence.
There's this, um, this job Nicola's thinking of taking.
- Yale, apparently. - The key people?
(LAUGHS) No, the university.
There's a think tank there that's approached her.
I don't think that would be a good idea. Do you think that would be a good idea?
Well, she seems pretty set on it. Actually, she...
Do you think that would be a good idea?
I'll have a word with her.
- Yeah, have a word with her. - Yeah.
- Fine. - So you're not going to ask me
how I'm getting on?
Sorry, that was very rude.
How are you getting on, Malcolm? How are you?
- You know, good days and bad days. - Right.
This Steve Fleming thing's...
I don't, you know...
The guy's... I fucking despise the guy, you know.
I despise him as much as fucking james May presumably despises himself.
I'm glad he's getting the fucking death sentence in Nicholson's report.
Ah! Death sentence for Fleming.
You know, that's not something that should be out there.
No. No, no, no, no.
- I'll catch you later, thanks. - Yes.
- Thanks for doing that. - Not a problem, Malcolm.
- My very great... - Brilliant.
Malcolm's back. Malcolm's back, he's through there.
- What? - GLENN: I'll call you back.
- Hi. - Hello. You all right?
You've got that "cock in the cookie jar" look.
- He's back. - Who? Barrymore?
- No. - Clement Attlee?
- Oh, fuck. - Yes.
- Malcolm. - Yes.
Oh, no. God, he's going to kill me.
I was there when he was being sacked and he asked me for help
and I held out and now he's going to want revenge, isn't he?
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
It's gonna be like Kill Bill or Get Carter.
Only it's going to be get and kill Nicola
and then get Carter and Bill to fucking kill her, too.
How did you hear about it?
Well, I just connected his computer for him in the old liaison...
- Fuck! He's in the building? - Yeah.
- Shit. Where is he? - Well, he's in the old liaison office.
But look, he's in an odd way, Nicola.
It's like he's been to the vet and had his knackers done.
Right. When I come back from cabinet I'm going to hide in my office, okay?
For the rest of the day.
Oh, God. I'm going to be glad to be out of this place.
Yeah. Oh, yeah. Are you? Oh, right. Are you...
America... What are you thinking, Yale or nayl?
I don't know. Off the record, what do you think?
I really, really wonder whether it's the right thing for you.
I mean, it's a huge, huge country, isn't it?
I was going to live there, I wasn't going to eat it.
I know. But you know, imagine sitting there on your fanny,
watching King of Queens eating a Twinkie.
Malcolm's told you to warn me off it, hasn't he?
Well, he's... No... Well, yeah.
He's been here two minutes and already he's...
He's pulling the strings of his pathetic little voodoo marionette.
- No, well. - Right. Fuck it.
I'm not going to hide. Bring it on.
Malcolm.
Hey, Nicola. How are you doing?
- You're back. - Yeah, I'm just, you know,
tying up a few loose ends.
With which you're going to plait some kind of garrotte and strangle me?
Forgive and forget. That's my motto.
I thought your motto was "Who fucks wins" or
"Honi soit qui Malc y fuck".
I've got a lot of mottos. Don't take that job, Nicola.
God, Malcolm.
The anti-Tom brigade are just waiting for the first piece to fall.
If you resign, it's political fucking Jenga.
You will cause a landslide that will bury this government.
And you'll keep the party in opposition until Daniel Radcliffe
is advertising walk-in baths in the fucking People's Friend.
I've got to go to Number 10.
- I'll chum you over, chum. - Oh, great.
The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain.
Well, actually, that is a popular misconception
because what happens is the rain falls just before the mountain ridge,
but they wouldn't want you to know that because it would spoil the rhyme.
Julius. What's up, Boo Boo?
Not much. I'm just feeding some victuals to these poor old ducks.
That red-crested pochard there is positively hoggish with this Hovis.
I heard certain rumblings
that I don't come out terribly well in this report of yours.
Off the record, matey, am I fucked?
Off the record, and this is strictly between you, me
and that ornamental gatepost over there...
Of course.
The report is strictly confidential until publication.
(LAUGHING) Do you see what I've done there?
The bald man has done a funny.
It's not funny. No, it's not funny at all, Julius.
- I think I'm on sparkling form. - For fuck's sake! You fucking...
- Stephen. - Pontius Pilate,
with the emphasis on ponce.
GLENN: Care to do another draft, Sir Whitewash?
- What has The Mirror got? - "Give us the bald facts?"
Oh, it's very rude, that is, isn't it?
I was always taught never to make personal remarks about people.
He's impressive, Malcolm, in an evil way.
Like those women at Crufts who make dogs dance on their hind legs.
And how are we all this morning, bright and breezy or shite and wheezy?
TERRl: Morning, Malcolm. GLENN: Morning.
- Oh, that's a nice, snuggly fleece. - Going to the garden centre, Malcolm?
Oh, this is lovely and warm. 40 tog.
(CHUCKLES)
Tell you what, I'm going to make a cup of tea.
- Terri? - No, Malcolm. No, honestly.
OLLY: You don't have to. I can make the tea.
- Hey, Nicola! You want a cup of tea? - TERRl: Demeaning.
- Okay. - Well, what do you want?
Lemon Zinger, please.
- A what? - Lemon Zinger.
Whatever the lady wants. Is there a kitty for this stuff?
No. I mean, honestly, Malcolm, no.
Is a tenner enough? Take the money, woman, come on.
- Thank you very much. - GLENN: Hey, Malcolm?
- Yes? - Bad luck on Steve, eh?
Being long-lensed in the park like that with Nicholson, eh, Malc?
Nice double-whammy, that, isn't it?
Fleming looks like he's trying to influence the report
and do some bald-on-bald cottaging at the same time.
I mean, all that dark arts and spinning, that's yester-Malcolm.
That's not... You know, that's not me any more.
I like the new me. I mean, I feel 20 years younger.
TERRl: And you look it. You look 20 years younger as well.
- Do I? - Mmm.
You're looking great yourself, you know, at the moment.
That colour really suits you. It's very, very attractive.
Christ, is he dying or something?
OLLY: I don't know. TERRl: (WHISPERING) Is he flirting?
- You are a naughty bastard. - Julius.
Best thing I've read all year. It's the only thing, mind you.
You've done some pretty awful things to me in my time,
but this takes the bloody biscuit.
And you've pissed on that biscuit and I've got to eat it.
Well, here's the news, Malcolm. I will not eat the pissy biscuit.
- Sam, no pissy biscuits! - Oh, please.
What are you going on about, Julius?
You made it look as if Steve Fleming leant on me
that I would wrongly exonerate him.
And as a result, I had to come down upon him
like a ton of bricks,
totally unfairly, just to protect my unimpeachable reputation for fairness.
Yeah, well. It's a great report.
I mean, what I really like about it is it's fucking short.
How long did it take you to rewrite the Steve Fleming stuff?
I pulled an all-nighter.
Black coffee, Vivaldi on the iPod Touch.
It was certainly worth it. I mean, he comes over as a 28-carat shite.
Oh, Steve, mate. Have you seen the papers?
Looks like you're becoming the story.
- Steven, can I begin by saying... - Oh, no. I understand, Julius.
It's the game we play. You did what you had to do.
- Yes, but all the same, Steven... - Steve!
(CLEARS THROAT) I'm sorry. I'll not forget this.
You off to clear your desk, Steve?
Don't forget your lucky gonk and your "World's Shittest Dad" mug.
We were on the same side, Malcolm, and you fucked me over.
Not me, Steve-o. Not me. The independent report.
So, you know, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to go.
Oh, I agree with you, I'm going.
I'm going to resign from the cabinet.
And then I'm going to go and join Dan Miller's team.
I think we need a new leader.
- Steve! - Oh, no, no, no.
Steve. Don't you ever take up fucking poker,
'cause you're a crap liar.
I am going to join Dan Miller's team and then we are going to take you down.
We are going to take you down to funky town!
Funky town centre, here you come.
Choo fucking choo.
Is this what you're threatening me with? Fucking disco lights?
And a fucking choo choo train? You're a joke, Steve.
(LAUGHS) There's nothing you can do.
- Steve. - Yeah?
There's one thing I can do.
- What are you going to do? - Yeah, wouldn't you like to know?
Who are you going to meet? Who's your meeting with?
Bye-bye.
I'm not fucking worried, mate!
Fuck him. Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!
Okay, listen up everybody. That was Gavin over at Number 10.
He reckons that Steve Fleming has just joined the cabal.
(ALL EXCLAIMING)
- GLENN: Yeah, mate. - That's a complete disaster.
There'll be nothing else on television for weeks.
Where's Malcolm? Where's the dark knight in all this?
Malcolm will have grabbed his false passport by now.
He'll be on a plane to Brazil
and he's about to spend the rest of his days
being the world's scariest dentist.
Derek! Get the fuck down to ITN right now
and start briefing the shit out of them, right?
Where's Sarah? I want Sarah to do the cars.
I want her to pimp the ministerial rides.
Come on. Fire up the mid-range saloons.
Nicola Murray, just the girl.
- What the hell's going on here? - In 20 minutes' time,
the Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland
is going to announce that he is calling the election.
Shitting Henry.
Thank you very much.
Okay. How... What I don't... Right. How are you announcing...
The Cabinet haven't... You know, we haven't actually had...
So how... What I... Who...
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
- Who actually is... - Exactly. Exactly. Exactly, Nicola.
See that fucking gibbering? That's what everyone is doing right now.
The fucking cabal. The fucking opposition. Fucking us.
- We have grabbed the initiative. - Yeah, for maybe five minutes.
Well, life is just a succession of five minuteses.
Oh, great. Okay, so you're Buddha now, are you?
Yeah, if Buddha had been on the cover of GQ magazine.
Yeah, could you get me the Yale Centre for Economic Renewal, please?
- Why are you ringing them? - Stay. Stay.
No, look. Please don't ring... Don't fucking ring her!
Hello? No, just relax.
You've got plenty of time. It's not ringing.
Loads of... Oh, actually it is ringing.
It's time to tell the Yanks to fuck off. Come on.
You're going to go leafletting in Neasden, yeah?
You have no right to do this. I will not be bounced by you.
Listen, if you quit now, you might well cost us this election, right?
- Bollocks. - But see, if we win,
there will be rewards.
Now, you've seen the Foreign Office, right?
It's fucking huge, isn't it?
- Don't make me do this. - (WHISPERING) Stay.
- Okay, I'll stay. - Hannah, yeah, sorry.
I would just like to put you on to our mutual acquaintance, Nicola Murray.
She's got something that she wants to tell you.
Hannah. Um...
- There's nobody there. - Yeah, I spoke to her already.
You fucker!
I'm going to put a word in for you about the Foreign Office job.
They're always looking for cleaners there. It's fucking huge.
You fucker, Malcolm!
All right, now. Listen up, my children of a lesser God.
You will find a file marked Snap Election Drill on the J drive.
And if you don't know how to access the J drive
hand your pass in at reception,
go and buy some silver body paint and pretend to be a robot on the South Bank.
Fly, my pretties, fly.
(MOBILE PHONE BEEPING)
Stewart! Stewart, the Fucker's downstairs.
No, no, no. He's not downstairs. But if he were, I'd know about it
and if I knew about it, I would have vetoed it. Okay?
He is, and he is complete poison.
Ah, the Fucker!
And you thought he was just a myth created to frighten naughty MPs
into eating all their truffles and swan.
Watch my lips. Cal Richards is not here.
- Cal! - Hello.
- Hi. - Hi, Stewart.
Good to see you. I didn't know about this.
- JB didn't say anything... - Hello, everyone.
I just wanted it to be a surprise.
Yeah. Why are you... Why are you here?
Well, mate, I just thought I'd check in
with the intellectual powerhouse of the party. That's all.
- Emma. - That's why I'm here.
Right. If you want to step in the office, yeah?
I'll dismiss the children and we can talk.
No. 'Cause I'm kidding, aren't I?
No, because I've come here to tell you that you're fucking sacked.
Halle-bloody-lujah!
Shall I escort Stewart from the building then, Cal?
EMMA: Philip, don't be such a fucking turncoat.
Yes, Philip. Excellent idea.
And while you're there, could you do me another favour, please?
Could you find a hostel, go there
and take a fucking overdose of barbiturates?
(EMMA SNICKERING)
Yeah, right. Okay, well, I'm not fired.
You can't fire me, Cal, so shall we just cut to the chase? Hmm?
"You can't fire me, Cal, 'cause you're..."
Gotcha!
I'm kidding. Of course you're not fired. Look at your face.
(CAL LAUGHING)
- Funny. - I'm sensing
a change of management styles here from touchy-feely to smashy-testes.
No, okay, joking aside, I'm just an impartial observer.
Quite partial, obviously, so take it away, Captain Mainwaring.
All right, folks, listen up.
We have three key targets when we are smart-bombing our beloved PM
and they are the deficit, unemployment, lack of leadership.
Get onto the J drive, you'll find key...
(SHOUTING) Fuck! That is brilliant!
That is inspired!
What sauce! Get in!
It's the economy, Stewpot!
Fuck! What I really need to do is shoot you all in the back of the head.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
But I can't because it's illegal.
Okay, I'd like a small cappuccino, two extra shots, please.
I think we've got a long night ahead of us.
- Come on. - I'm coming.
Better the devil you know, huh?
Five years...
I can't work the coffee machine.
Fantastic news, isn't it? Yeah.
I'm going to be much freer. Two free weeks...
So, did I miss anything?
Well, Glenn won a pound on a scratch card.
That's my retirement sorted.
So, we get out there and hust, do we?
- Hmm? - Hust. We go to the hustings.
- Don't think it's a verb, is it, Glenn? - Well, all right...
- Do me a huge favour. - Mmm-hmm?
Could you just not talk for a second?
Okay.
I think we're just playing it in the wrong key.
It's when we go,
♪ Red and yellow and blue ♪
What is she talking about?
Oh. She's putting on her annual production of Joseph in Hemel Hempstead.
She doesn't license it ever because she considers Joseph
to be public domain.
But I need to just pitch a little higher. More like...
- # Red and yellow and blue and green # - She's directing it.
- Oh. - And starring.
As Jacob.
(WHISPERING) With a beard?
Well, one assumes with a beard.
Maybe she'll just let herself go for a couple of weeks, see what happens.
MALCOLM: I know what people say to you, right?
They say, "We hate you.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."
Everybody hates you. So fucking what?
Some people, they just fucking love to hate.
Some people, they'd fucking walk around the fucking Garden of Eden
fucking moaning about the lack of fucking mobile reception.
These are the kind of fucks who watched Mandela,
fucking Nelson Mandela,
walk to freedom
and said, "Is Diagnosis Murder not on the other side?"
So we fucking forget about them.
This government has run this country into the ground.
This used to be a green and pleasant land,
now it's the colour of the fucking BBC weather map.
It looks like anaemic dogshit.
JB,
Cal Richards and their hordes of fucking robots,
they're coming over the hill towards us and all you have got to do is this.
Bend down, pick up any fucking weapon you can
and twat the fuckery out of them.
This government is maimed, but it can't be shamed,
it will be fucked.
Let's get out there and let's fucking kill them.
Let's set fire to tiers! Let's go!
Come on! Let's go, yes!
Okay, let's get going.
PHIL: What do we do?
What do I call for an outside line?
EMMA: That was great, wasn't it? PHIL: What do we do?
Is it nine? 'Cause that's what it is everywhere else.
OLLY: Car's here. Car's here, Nicola!
GLENN: We're off. Bye-bye, Terri, then. See you soon.
- Just want to say goodbye. - I'm sorry. Very sticky but...
- Thank you. Honestly, it's... - Oh, have I scratched you?
I just want to say, honestly.
I mean it.
NICOLA: Thank you and yeah. Thanks for the stuff.
TERRl: Glenn, I don't know about you with...
Don't worry about me, Terri. I've got plenty of options.
I'm just going to take stock.
From Morrisons?
PHIL: Okay, yeah and he can pick some records as well.
Girls Aloud, will that make him too seedy? Okay, Girls Aloud.
CAL: Stop saying Abingdon to me. I want a fucking chocolate biscuit.
PHIL: I've booked him on another breakfast show, BBC Warwick,
Brian and Robo, apparently they're very funny.
Yeah, for the first time in a decade,
I can feel the old dog twitching to life.
"So sorry me. This election give me an erection."
The old dog I was referring to was me.
(HOOVER WHIRRING)
See you, Nicola!
Or not.