Malcolm Tucker quotes from The Thick Of It

Malcolm

How are the hacks?

Steve

Ready to eat their own cocks.

Malcolm

They're only journalists, Steve, not fucking Rangers supporters.

Steve

I know they are.

Malcolm

Yeah, well, I need 10 minutes. I need to google some jokes about Andy Murray.

Steve

Shall I go first?

Malcolm

Warm them up. Tell them Olivier is on his way, but in the meantime, here's an audience with Peter fucking Bowles.

Malcolm

Oh, there he is. Screaming Lord Crutch. I like the flunkies, by the way. That's a very nice touch. It's a wee bit Graham Norton.

Julius

Don't needle me, Malcolm. Not when people are under scrutiny.

Malcolm

I'm under scrutiny?

Julius

Yes.

Malcolm

I'm fucking Nosferatu. That's really fucking scary.

Julius

(unimpressed) I'm walking on. We're moving on. I'm Ian Botham. I'm walking on for hospice care.

Malcolm

How's it going with Lord Bonnie Longford?

Nicola

I've not been in yet. I've just been standing here for 20 minutes.

Malcolm

So IF this phone call does come up...

Nicola

You're nothing if not persistent, are you, Malcolm?

Julius

Don't do that! I made it quite clear...

Malcolm

(to Julius) I was standing over there and I thought, "Nicola's choking." But she wasn't. She was laughing, retrospectively, at your massive shiny head. (to Steve) Oh, what happened? Did you get heckled off? What was the line? "Taxi for Tom Selleck!"

Steve

Yeah. Could I have a quick word? Just...just five minutes.

Malcolm

Get back to fucking Wind in the Willows, 'cause that's where you fucking belong!

Steve

I didn't ask you to -- I didn't ask you to come back in. Would you leave my office, please?

Malcolm

I'm not fucking gonna waste my breath on you.

Malcolm

(to Julius) As for you...

Julius

Malcolm, I am sick to death -- You can explain --

Julius

Don't TOUCH me, Malcolm!

Malcolm

I'll fucking touch you if I like!

Julius

Because I'll tell you this, man!

Malcolm

You'll tell me WHAT?

Julius

YOU shafted me, boy!

Julius

I'll fucking strike you, Malcolm!

Malcolm

Don't you fucking touch me!

Julius

I warn you!

Malcolm

Don't touch that scarf! That's Paul Smith! Twat! (to somebody else) MOVE!

Malcolm

YOU WILL SEE ME AGAIN! (Malcolm heads towards the door.) You will fucking see me again! (He leaves Number 10.)

So all this is homemade, is it?

Malcolm

Of course it is! Look, I mean, this is going to be like Jamie at Home, right, except I'm not going to be bouncing around spouting Cockney drivel out of my fat, lisping, ox face.

Do you want to swim the Channel for Scope?

Malcolm

No!

Do you want to do Dragon's Den for Children in Need?

Malcolm

I'd rather fuck a real dragon.

Would you consider promoting a politically themed restaurant?

Malcolm

How does that – 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'?

Julius

Take the rice first.

Malcolm

Thank you.

Julius

Um, I want you to be very clear, Malc, about why it is that I brought you in. Do you know what hat it is that I'm wearing?

Malcolm

Is it your baldy swimming cap wig?

Julius

No, it is my government troubleshooter stetson, which is a long way from my homburg of sober inquiry.

Malcolm

Do you know that I'm thinking of doing a television program?

Julius

Well, I had heard something on the grapevine.

Malcolm

Yeah, it's good. You know that program Civilisation with Kenneth Clark?

Julius

Oh, yes.

Malcolm

It's gonna 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.

Julius

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."

Malcolm

Your nephew?

Julius

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?

Malcolm

(in disbelief) Are you out of your tiny, shiny fucking mind?

Julius

Look, we can do this simply.

Julius

Step 1: Are you interested? Of course you are. (Julius drops a pencil) Step 2: Will you come back? Yes? (He drops another pencil) Superb. Step 3, and this is the important step: Will you use your considerable influence to destroy the cabal? Can I drop it down? (Julius drops down that pencil, too) Fan-dabi-dozi! Step 4: It's party time. Let's tool up with basmati rice and...Wahey!

Malcolm

(rightfully confused) You're asking me -- to come back here and mop up the fucking splatter from my own assassination?

Julius

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.

Malcolm

I can't come back again unless I know that I'm in the clear in your report.

Julius

I'm 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 inquiry didn't come out relatively well?

Malcolm

And what about Steve Fleming, yeah? You schizo hat fuck?

Julius

Let me put it this way: You see this onion bhaji? Let us pretend for a minute that this onion bhaji is the problems that would be caused by a report that criticised you or Steve Fleming. Hmm? Watch. (Julius takes a bite of the bhaji.) You see what I’m doing? I’m eating.. the onion bhaji. (He eats the rest of the bhaji.) Why? Because I am the man that makes the bhaji go away.

Nicola

Malcolm.

Malcolm

Hey Nicola! How are you doing?

Nicola

You're back.

Malcolm

Yeah I'm just, you know, tying up a few loose ends.

Nicola

With which you're going to plait some kind of garotte and strangle me.

Malcolm

Forgive and forget. That's my motto.

Nicola

I thought your motto was 'Who fucks wins' or 'Honi soit qui Malc y fuck'.

Malcolm

I've got a lot of mottos. Don't take that job, Nicola.

Nicola

God, Malcolm –

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.

Julius

You...

Malcolm

Julius!

Julius

...are a naughty bastard!

Malcolm

(holding up Julius' report) Best thing I've read all year. It's the only thing, mind you.

Julius

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!

Malcolm

Sam, no pissy biscuits. (to Julius) What are you going on about, Julius?

Julius

You made it look as if Steve Fleming leant on me so 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.

Malcolm

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?

Julius

I pulled an all-nighter. Black coffee, Vivaldi on the iPod Touch.

Malcolm

It was certainly worth it. I mean, he comes over as a 28-carat shite.

Malcolm

(to Steve) Oh, Steve, mate. Have you seen the papers? Looks like you're becoming the story.

Julius

(to Steve) Steven, can I begin by saying...

Steve

(to Julius) Oh no, I understand, Julius. It's the game we play. You did what you had to do.

Julius

Yes, but all the same, Steven...

Steve

STEVE!

Julius

(to Steve) I'm sorry. (to Malcolm, unhappily) I'll not forget this.

Malcolm

You off to clear your desk, Steve? Don't forget your lucky gonk, and your "World's Shittiest Dad" mug.

Steve

(returning to Malcolm) We were on the same side, Malcolm, and you fucked me over.

Malcolm

Not me, Steve-o, not me. The independent report. So you know, I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to go.

Steve

Oh, I agree with you, I'm going. I'm gonna resign from the Cabinet. And then, I'm going to go and join Dan Miller's team. (beat) I think we need a new leader. (walks off)

Malcolm

(following) Steve!

Steve

Oh, no, no, no!

Malcolm

Steve, don't you ever take up fucking poker, 'cause you're a crap liar.

Steve

I am gonna join Dan Miller's team and then we are gonna take you down. We are gonna take you down to funky town! Funky Town Centre, here you come! CHOO FUCKING CHOO!

Malcolm

Is this what you're threatening me with, fucking disco lights and a fucking choo-choo train? You're a joke, Steve!

Steve

(laughing) There's nothing you can do!

Malcolm

Steve!

Steve

Yeah?

Malcolm

There's one thing I can do!

Steve

What are you gonna do?

Malcolm

Yeah, wouldn't you like to know!

Steve

Who are you gonna meet? Who's your meeting with?

Malcolm

(walking off) Bye-bye!

Steve

I'M NOT FUCKING WORRIED, MATE! (walks down the corridor) Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!

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.

Cal

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.

Malcolm

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 –

Cal

This government is maimed, but it can't be shamed. It will. Be. FUCKED!

Malcolm

Let's get out there, and let's fucking kill them, LET'S SET FIRE TO TEARS! Let's go! (all applaud and cheer) Come on! Let's go, yes!

Cal

OK, let's get going.

Cal

(on an office phone) What do I call for an outside line?

Emma

That was great, wasn't it?

Phil

What do we do?

Cal

Is it 9, 'cause that's what it is everywhere else?

Ollie

Right, sorry to interrupt you at this very sad time, but we do have Prime Minister's Questions in one hour.

Nicola

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.

Ollie

Yep. You'll walk rings round him.Ben: 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.

Malcolm

A pony isn't a baby horse, it's a foal, a fucking foal is a baby horse.

Ben

Right, our guest tonight on 'I Don't Give a Fuck about Baby Horses' is me. But we need to do something about Nicola, Malcolm, 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.

Malcolm

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?

Ben

Big shit, granola, check the email, shower and a shave, Nespresso, sometimes a second shit.

Malcolm

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.Malcolm (seeing Nicola bend down in front of the photocopier): Oh, that's very moving: 'They shall not grow old, who photocopy their arses at the Christmas do'.

Ollie

They're commuters, they are the street-pounders, street – walkers, um –

Nicola

You can't call them streetwalkers.

Ollie

They're the people who deal with the little stuff, erm – Wombles, Honest Wombles, Everyday Wombles?

Malcolm

Sorry, I've just got to take a call.

Nicola

Erm, straights.

Ollie

No!

Nicola

No. No, of course, sorry.

Helen Hatley

Commuting champions.

Nicola

Interrai– human interrailers –

Ollie

Human interrailers? That's interrailers. Er, everyday superstars, all British supremes –

Malcolm

That sounds like a racist tribute band.

Nicola

Ordinary people, with something special about them, with a special power.

Ollie

Please don't say special. Don't say special.

Nicola

No but – you know, but like sup– people as superheroes.

Ollie

Ironpeople, Spiderpeople. Wolfpeople.

Nicola

They're just regular citizens, but they have this – that one special quality that makes them like Batman, or Batpeople. Erm, Quiet Batpeople.

Malcolm

(glaring) Quiet Batpeople?

Nicola

Before we finish, I just want to throw one more pebble into the thought pool.

Ben

Ploop.

Nicola

Sorry Ben, I missed that?

Ben

Just I'm sorry, I just, I said 'ploop', it's just the noise of a pebble.

Nicola

"Quiet Batpeople" on every fucking paper!

Malcolm

Right, this is a wake-up call. And by the way, Helen, the next time you want to make Nicola look like a clown with her fucking hair on fire in a Zumba class, why don't you just take your notes down to Snappy Snaps and get them blown up to gigantic charity cheque size, so the partially sighted can be in on the fucking gag?

Helen

I didn't know they'd be able to see it!

Malcolm

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.

Nicola

I can't even say his name without smiling.

Ollie

Yeah, well, he's not smiling, is he? He's living in a tent, 'cause his key-worker housing's been sold off.

Malcolm

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.

Malcolm

It's time for you to step up, Ollie. What's that film that you love?

Ollie

What film?

Malcolm

The one about the fucking hairdresser, the space hairdresser and the cowboy. The guy, he's got a tin foil 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.

Ollie

Star Wars?

Malcolm

That's the one, right. It's like that, okay? Where you fucking kill all the bad guys, and you'll be able to blow up the big –

Ollie

Death Star.

Malcolm

The Death Star thing. Then you can go and live happily ever after on the planet of the teddy bears.

Ollie

They're Ewoks, they're Ewoks. It's a fantastic analogy, well done.

Ben

Malcolm, could I have a couple of words please?

Malcolm

Political lightweight? Making up the numbers? Sorry that's four isn't it?

Dan

So, your loyalty to Nicola is –

Malcolm

Unwavering. Right up to the point that –

Dan

Someone challenges her?

Malcolm

Not necessary: she's going to kick her own head in, which will be easy for her because she does yoga. No, we just need somebody to hold her jacket while she commits political hara-kiri, and sweep in unopposed, being careful not to tread in the mess.

Dan

So you think – I should challenge her?

Malcolm

What the fuck is this, Tinker Tailor Soldier Cunt? Do you, or do you not, want to be the next leader of this party?

Dan

Yes.

Malcolm

Right, 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.

Malcolm

You're right, she can't fucking walk.

Ben

I mean, should we get a pony to challenge her?

Malcolm

It's not a fucking pony, it's a fucking foal.

Ben

Sorry.

Helen

I don't understand how you can get that wrong.

Ollie

It's this: (demonstrates) de-de-clunk!

Helen

She is officially a Ceno-twat.

Ollie

Fabulous work, sister. Bury her in a grave. The Unknown Leader.

Helen

I can't watch: I feel a bit sick.

Ollie

I just hope there is no afterlife, because if people fought and died for this, it is going to seem even more ridiculously futile.

Ollie

Wombles, Honest Wombles, Everyday Wombles?

Helen

Right, OK, obviously, you know, we're not gonna block anything 'cause this is a think-thoughting session, erm –

Malcolm

Sorry, I've just got to take a call.

Ollie

Think-thoughting, Helen, is what we call, in the real world, thinking. It's the same. Am I say-speaking out of turn? Have I not understood-comprehended you?

Helen

I don't know, I tuned you out a bit.(deleted scene)

Ollie

Hiya, I thought you were bollocking Dan Miller.

Malcolm

Oh, I am. (to the empty chair next to him) Look at you! You bourgeois, fucking side-parted twat, you flap that bammed-up nutcrease of yours again, and I will fuck you so deep, that if you're not drowned in the blizzard of jizz, your rectum will become the biggest fucking indoor venue in fucking Europe.

Ollie

Are you OK?

Malcolm

Sit down.(deleted scene)

Ben

How do you know so much about horses, anyway? I thought you were raised by wolves.

Malcolm

I don't know anything about horses, apart from that a grown-up one's a fucking horse and a baby one's a foal. And why are you eating my biscuits?

Ben

I don't know, I found them on here. There's one left.

Malcolm

They are big wreaths.

Ben

It's like a toilet seat, isn't it? I mean, it's not, it's lovely.

Malcolm

What size of a wreath would you need for a nuclear war?

Ben

There wouldn't be anyone left to put it on the Cenotaph, would there? It'd be carried along by cockroaches or whatever it is they say'll survive.

Malcolm

Yeah.