(answers his mobile) Hi Mum. Yeah, a bit sore –
Malcolm(entering Ollie's room) Here she is, Britain's latest post-op transsexual. How did they do that, did they actually manage to graft one on? (briefly lifts up Ollie's bedsheet)
I'll call you back, Mum. (hangs up) It's the scary Morrissey!
Malcolm
(throws Ollie some flowers) I've come to cheer you up.
Did you actually buy me flowers, Malcolm?
Malcolm
No no no, it's one of the many advantages of living close to an accident blackspot. So how are things, the little boy from The Secret Garden?
Well, you know, there's no Wi-Fi, there's basic Freeview. It's like living in 2003. But I am lighter to the tune of one whole appendix, so I do feel very svelte.
Malcolm
So have you seen this? (holds up the Guardian, which leads with an interview with Steve Fleming)
(reads the headline) "Nicola Murray is 'unelectable'"?
Malcolm
(throws Ollie the paper) Fleming is foaming.
Is that it then, is she fucked?
Malcolm
Like Caligula's favourite watermelon. Fleming's fired the starting pistol so we can all start firing our actual pistols into her fucking fat unelectable smug head.
Malcolm
It's on. It's on like Fat Pat's thong. We're putting Nicola on a train today to Bradford. It's the closest as I could get to locking her in a metal box.
Oh, this is the Here 2 Hear thing. What a great idea, going around the country listening to people tell you that they hate you, just in different accents. (In various accents) "I fucking hate you." "I hate you." "I fucking hate you."
So wait, today's the day?
Malcolm
Today's the day. Once she's on the train, I'm going to detonate the main bomb, but I need you to set one off later.
(laughing) Malcolm, I'm in hospital, I'm not wearing any pants!
Malcolm
I don't care if you've been dead for a year and playing cribbage with Jimmy fucking Savile. I want you to make a bomb and explode it, today.
(confused) This is a metaphorical bomb, right?
Malcolm
This is it, Jack fucking Bauer. Time for you to embrace your inner bastard.
I'm not going to exploit a suicide.
Malcolm
Come on, you can't look a gift corpse in the mouth, you should be taking that corpse and slapping the Government about the face with it. Bit of slap with Tickle, yeah?
No, I'm not doing it, it's insensitive, as was that.
Ben (to two colleagues): Yeah, it's a Nigella recipe, you sort of do it with gammon and Coca-Cola. That's fantastic.
Malcolm
Ah, the hairless Hagrid. I need a private word.
Yeah, we're kind of in the middle of something.
Malcolm (to Ben's colleagues): I need you lot to make like a tree and go fuck yourselves.
Yeah, we'll pick this up later.
Malcolm (seeing Ben's empty desk): Oh I'm sorry, I can come back if you're – I didn't realise you were so fucking busy.
Well, I could do some work, but you know what, we're still gonna lose.
Malcolm
Hey hey hey. Don't be so grim, you big quim. You are the future of this party, yeah? You are the next generation.
And you're in its past, I mean – I don't really know why you're still here, Malcolm.
Malcolm
I just want to see this thing turn around, right? I can't leave while we're getting fucked in the polls, and we're getting fucked consistently and repeatedly like a horse in the fucking Hebrides.
All very original observations, Malcolm MacIntucker, but what's the solution?
Malcolm
Nicola has to go. Today.
Malcolm
You need to resign.
And challenge her for the leadership?
Malcolm
Ah, no. No, that would be petty and self-interested. No. You are doing this for the greater good of the party. As Deputy Leader, Dan Miller will take over, and he can be anointed at a later date.
So, you want me to stick my cock in a fan so that Dan Miller can become the next Prime Minister? Well fuck you very much, Malcolm. What do I get out of this?
Malcolm
I would not ask you to do this for nothing, would I?
Malcolm
I'm asking you, because you're a big fucking beast. Which is why, when you come back, it'll be as Foreign Secretary.
And you mean Foreign Secretary, that isn't code for, like, Northern Ireland, I'm not fucking going there.
Malcolm
This is the proper Foreign Secretary, with all the perks. Fuck-off breakfasts at Dubai hotels. Tours of secret Russian sex yachts.
All right! All right, I'll do it. And you know what? I'd have done it for a lot less.
Malcolm
I beg your pardon?
I'd have done it just to see the look on Nicola's face.
Malcolm
Oh. I've underestimated you.
(quite proud of himself) You have been out-maneuvered by a player. It happens.
Malcolm
Yeah, well...didn't used to.
Malcolm (answering his phone): What have you got for me, Professor Brian Cock?
Ben small-balled it. Nicola's offered him Shadow Chancellor, he's not resigning.
Malcolm
Christ in a diamond heist, the dopey fucking bollard. Right, how are you getting on with the old man from Up?
(Glenn is waiting outside the toilet)
Yeah, you know, getting there.
Malcolm
Well, get a move on. I want him leaking like Cliff Richard out jogging.
Right. OK. I'll be right on it. (hangs up)
Malcolm (entering Ben's office): Oh, here she is. Pippa Middleton, trying to steal the limelight with your peachy little arse. Right, where are we?
Well, I've just offered Ben here Deputy Leadership of the party.
I don't want it. I want Chancellor.
Malcolm (surprised): Chancellor? Of the United Kingdom?
Yeah, it's what Nicola's offering me.
Malcolm
Are you sure about this Ben, how's your economics?
Malcolm
What, you're a PPE-er guy?
No, History of Art, but –
Malcolm
Oh right, so you are confident that one day you will be able to shepherd this country out of one of the darkest economic periods in its entire fucking art history?
Look, at the moment, I hold all the cards, including the card that tells you how to play, so – so it's over. The fat lady's singing.
Malcolm
No she's not. The fat man from the GoCompare adverts is talking.
This is tiger-by-the-tail time and I'm loving it, loving it, loving it!
Oh, in that case you leave me no option, Ben, I'm gonna have to say yes.
Oh, Chumba-fucking-wamba! Then I resign on the dotted line.
Malcolm
Can you give us a minute, Ben, please? Dan and I need to talk some strategy.
Might head in the direction of confection; any snack-age, anyone?
(Ben leaves)
Malcolm
Is this for real?
No, of course it's not for real, Malcolm. I'm offering him Chancellor, but I might as well be offering him bass player in The Wurzels, because that burly haemorrhoid's getting nowhere near any fucking cabinet of mine.
Malcolm
Good, so how are you gonna shaft him?
That's not my problem. That's your problem, Malcolm.
Malcolm
Right, so this is a little test, is it, you're weighing my balls?
(Dan nods and smiles.)
Malcolm
Oh, he'll be back. Like the shit Terminator. (Ben returns) There he is.
I hereby tweet, 'I have resigned. More to follow.' Didn't seem that momentous.
Malcolm
How many followers have you got?
Malcolm
Christ, well let's hope it gets retweeted, otherwise you might as well just whisper it to a fucking dead tramp.
(Ben is preparing for his big announcement, but first, Malcolm wants to show Ben something on his cell phone.)
Malcolm
These phones are amazing, aren't they? I've got an application here that can throw grenades into people's dreams.
Malcolm
Is that your suit with the reinforced trouser arse on it, yeah?
Ha, very funny. What, a joke that I'm going to shit myself?
Malcolm
No, it's because you're gonna need it for the 10 years you're gonna be sitting on the back benches. The e-mail trail about the key worker housing clearly shows that you, Benjamin Trevor Swain, were gleefully in favor of it, just like Nicola.
Malcolm
There you go. Break a leg, love. And your neck and your wrist. It doesn't really matter.
(Dan enters the room as Nicola concludes her speech.)
Malcolm
And here he is, the anointed one!
(Malcolm leads the room in applause)
Oh – please, please, I'm not Christ. He was quite a scruffy man.
Malcolm (to party staff, ahead of Nicola's arrival): Right, stop rolling around naked in the headlines; blind man's crumpet's on the way up. If you're gonna film her on your phones, try not to make it obvious, and no smiling. Not even a wee fucking Anne Robinson, right? The look we're going for should be solemn respect: you know, like blokes modelling underpants.
(Nicola Murray is trying to ask Dan Miller, the new Leader of the Opposition, NOT to go through with launching the inquiry.)
This inquiry, you know, it's not really necessary now, so if-if you want to say that, I'll just back down.
(unmoved) An inquiry wouldn't be a bad thing. A clean break with the past in the minds of the electorate.
Well, I mean, the electorate, you know, like me. (chuckling) Quite a lot of them voted me leader, so...
But you only beat me on a technicality.
Yeah. I mean the thing is, Dan, (Dan nods) you know, pragmatically, I'm now a party grandee – (Malcolm enters) Malcolm, this is a private conversation.
(Malcolm takes a chair and sits down.)
Malcolm
You are not a grandee, you are a fucking blandee. No one knew what the fuck you stood for. Political fucking mist. No substance, no weight. You've got all the charm of a rotting teddy bear by a graveside. By the way...women fucking hate you. I can show you the polling. They think you come across like a jittery mother at a wedding. The best thing you ever did in your flatlining non-leadership was call for an inquiry, because that will fuck the government and it will fuck you. So now, please, just fuck off back to your home, you headless frump, and prepare for your column in Grazia.
Steady on, Malcolm, that's a bit strong.
Malcolm
(to Nicola) Come on, let's go.
Okay, you, well...You just need to know that you have absolutely fucking done it now, Malcolm, because you are about to find out what it feels like to have me pissing in your tent.
Malcolm
Well, you know what? Your piss will never fucking make it into my tent, because by some unforeseen Nicola Murray-shaped fiasco, like every fucking Nicola Murray-shaped fiasco I've had to deal with for the last two years. you'll end up blowing your own fucking stream into your own fucking face. There's your golden handshake.
Malcolm
You're finished.
(to Malcolm) We'll see. (to Dan) Right, well, thanks, Dan. Think about what I said. Also might want to think about the fact there should be an apostrophe in "its" (pointing to the "Its Miller Time" sign) Illiterate fuckers.
Oh, hey! Shouldn't you be in bed?
Shouldn't you not be here?! Whoa, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop! You can't go up there.
No, I have to. I can't go back over there, it's like Alien vs. Predator!
Yes, everybody is... tremendously appreciative of what you've done. It was a noble sacrifice, but--
What do you mean, "sacrifice"? I thought we had a deal! "Sacrifice" sounds very one-sided.
Yeah, well, "piss off" sounds one-sided, but there we go-- (Malcolm arrives and pushes him aside) Hey! M-Malcolm!
Malcolm
Why is he still here? Can you not perform a simple task? When there is a shit on your doorstep, you hose it off.
Malcolm
You don't try to talk it into leaving of its own volition.
I got rid of Nicola for you, you owe me!
Malcolm
I owe you? Your act of treachery wiped the slate clean. Rudolf Hess's fucking senile older brother.
Look, I know you think I screwed up, but I came here on my hands and knees, Malcolm.
Malcolm
You, my friend, you don't exist to me anymore, I can't even fucking hear you.
Do you want me to beg? Is-Is that it? Because I -- Because I will.
Malcolm
Listen, Mary, Queen of fucking Shits: in the old days we would've just slit you up the middle like a fucking Cornish pasty, hanged your steaming entrails all around the Tower of fucking London! Catch you later, you fucking traitor! (turns to Sam, who has appeared on the stairs) Sam, what is it?
It's a call from Stewart Pearson.
Malcolm
(takes the phone from Sam) Stewart Pearson. (to Glenn) I'm the fucking wankers' lodestone today. (answers the phone, walking away) Stewart. Yes, the goatee-bearded guru-boy of Company B.
(Stewart and Malcolm are having a not-so-friendly chat on their cell phones.)
Yeah, Malcolm, can this wait? Hmm?
Malcolm
Word is the PM's considering an inquiry into the culture of leaking.
No, no. Do you really think he's going to invite everyone into our complex network of secret little burrows? Open up the whole of Watership Down?
Malcolm
(sarcastically) Okay, Bright Eyes. I'm massively fucking reassured.
Look, you may as well have an inquiry into gravity. Now I have to go, Malcolm, because I've got like a whole country to govern, yeah?
In the time it has taken for Terri to extract herself from her Bluetooth, this little inquiry has fused! It is now growing faster than the speed of bloody light! It's not gonna be something that we can see from space, IT'S GOING TO BE SPACE! BRIAN COX IS GONNA PHONE ME, AND ASK FOR THE FILM RIGHTS!
BUT WHAT LEAK, WHAT LEAK, WHAT FUCKING LEAK?!
ANYTHING! If I find out that anyone from here has leaked anything, I will make sure they have to emigrate after this to a country where they don't speak English, and there's no Internet!
But every-everyone who leaked anything, that would fill the fucking Caspian Sea, we're just a drop in the ocean here!
No, no, no, what you are, Peter, is Leak Zero! It started here! You have presided over a shambolic showering of info! Peter Mannion, 'Singing in the Rain'! (mobile rings) Oh, Christ. (answers) Hello, Malcolm!
Malcolm
Right, was this your idea? Because I don't remember signing any suicide pact.
Malcolm, look, I'm as shocked about this as you are.
Malcolm
Yes. You sound really shocked, you big fucking spunk lolly.
Yeah, look, I don't even know what that is. But I, you know, I think we all need time to, to process this data, yep?
(Fergus and Adam burst in)
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!
(restraining Fergus) All right, Fergus. (calmly) What the fuck is going on?
The Ark has been opened, and your face is gonna melt!
There's gonna be an inquiry.
The Thick Of It · 395 quotes
