(Malcolm and Hugh are now discussing -- or is it arguing over? -- the Super Schools Bill.)
MalcolmYou know, it's great that you get all misty-eyed over Glenn's kid. But no one's trying to fuck over special needs kids.
R-Really? Really? Before I went away, I consulted an expert, Mark-Mark Ryan, and he...
Malcolm
The LSE education guy? And what did that sandal-wearing nonce have to say?
What he said was that closing down special needs schools and putting needy kids into mainstream education is a lousy idea!
Malcolm
Yeah, but I've got an expert who will deny that.
And SEN parents want the special schools kept open.
Malcolm
Yeah, well, my-my expert would totally oppose that.
Malcolm
I have no idea, but I can get one by this afternoon. You see, the thing is you have spoken to the wrong expert. You've got to ask the right expert. And you've got to know what an expert's going to advise you before he advises you. Hugh, whether you like this or not, you are gonna have to promote this bill. So what I'm gonna do is -- I'm gonna get you another expert, yeah?
(Robyn, Ollie and Terri are looking at the atrium of the new building from their floor.)
Good spot for a suicide, this, I would think: good long drop, appreciative audience.
What if you just broke your back? You know, you'd be paralysed for life and then you'd still be depressed about the thing that was depressing you in the first place.
What are these, um, hangy-down things?
Oh, they're acoustic baffles, they stop it getting too echoey in here.
So when you're breaking your back, nobody can hear you screaming?
Well, that is the kind of attention to detail that you get in a PFI building.
Malcolm
(spotting them from the ground floor) HEY! GET BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!
CSA civil servant
I'm sorry, can you stop swearing please?
Malcolm
I'm really sorry, you won't hear any more swearing from us, YOU MASSIVE, GAY, SHITE!!! FUCK OFF! (to Ollie) Right, how are you doing in sorting out whether or not he lied or not, are you OK?
Malcolm
Is that a lie?
Malcolm
That is not fucking funny, you retard. I'm sorry about that, Glenn. The situation just –
Malcolm
(to Terri) God, right, okay, well, seein' as you're not used to this, I'll go through it for you, okay? What happens at a press conference is this. A bunch of press people are gonna appear, they've got things called cameras and microphones and mobile phones and hangovers and bad breath. Then you are gonna walk out and you're gonna read from what we call a "prepared statement". In that you will say, "I'm really fucking sorry for sounding like a hairy-arsed docker after twelve pints. I promise that I will never call an 8-year-old girl a cunt again. Can we now just draw a line over this, and fucking move on. Thank you". Everybody goes home and then we wait and we see what happens. The best case is you get to keep your job, although you will forever be known as the Sweary Woman of Whitehall.
(deleted scene)
Ollie (on the phone to a man he can see in a glass office): Yes, but you can't just dump rabies on us because you don't want it. You're Health, that's your job! You should have rabies. Health should have rabies, right? (sees the man mime fellatio) Oh right, yeah, fine. OK. So we're gonna have to swallow this one, but if we have to deal with a rabies outbreak we're gonna do it so fucking well, you're gonna be frothing at the mouth – yeah, twice! (hangs up) You prick!
(deleted scene)
First day back from holiday, tanned, tawdry and cheap. I feel like something out of Footballers' Wives.
How do you know about Footballers' Wives?
Ollie told me. They all live in Chelmsford, have names like Madison and Chutney, they're an orange colour and they've got thongs up their cracks.
(In the opening scene of this episode, Ollie Reeder and his girlfriend, Emma Messenger, are walking down the street together in the morning. Ollie and Emma are on opposite sides of the British political spectrum. Nevertheless, the two of them are enjoying some good-natured banter talking about their party leaders.)
I'm extremely impressed. I'm highly impressed that you're going to see the leader of your party.
EMEmma Messenger
Good. You should be impressed.
Although, ultimately, the leader of your party is just a man, really, isn't he? He's just a guy.
Ah, now that's a good point, actually, because yours on the other hand is...
...the leader of the country also. What I'm saying is if we were playing Top Trumps, which we kind of are...
Oh, cor, we absolutely are, Ollie.
Right. So it's Ben Swain Day today, is it?
Yes. A Nutter in our midst. A junior minister for me to push around, you know. That's nice, isn't it? A bit more power for me.
You are an extremely powerful man, Ollie.
Very powerful, very attractive sexually, due to all this power.
(As Ollie and Emma get to Government Headquarters, they are met up with Malcolm and Jamie.)
Malcolm
Hello!
Hey, dickhead! Happy New Queer!
Malcolm
I'm really sorry, but I – don't be so offensive. I do apologise for my friend's behaviour. Did you have a nice Poof-mas?
What are you two, um, doing round Richmond Terrace then?
Oh, we're slumming it. Just going to see Julius, the big baldy ballbag. (to Emma) You must be, you, what is it? Gemma? Gemma?
Malcolm
(to Ollie) What are you doing down here?
I'm babysitting Ben Swain for the day.
Malcolm
Could you water my spider plants in my office as well? (to Emma) He's very good with the watering can. Very very bright lad. Homemaker.
(And with that, Ollie and Emma share a rather awkward goodbye -- WITH NO KISS!)
Yeah, see you later. (Ollie rushes inside to catch up with Jamie and Malcolm.)
(Malcolm and Jamie are busting Ollie's chops about his relationship with Emma.)
(to Ollie) So, the girlfriend, she-she doesn't mind the whole, uh, you being gay thing?
Malcolm
(to Ollie) Did you take her home for Christmas?
No. God, no. I couldn't do that.
Malcolm
Oh no, you couldn't do that, 'cause she wouldn't fit in. 'Cause you're that right dyed-in-the-wool working class, aren't you? She's probably allergic to pit ponies.
(Malcolm, Jamie and Ollie are walking up the stairs to the offices at Government HQ, discussing Ben Swain.)
Malcolm
(to Ollie) Where's My Little Phony? Ben Swain. What's his Newsnight angle gonna be, then?
Ben? Ben is going on Newsnight?
Malcolm
(chuckling) Oh, you're a right little West Winger, you, aren't you? They're cutting you out of the loop already?
Well, I'll check who the presenter is and obviously...
The presenter is Newsbot 3.2. He's a nobody. He's a fucking scorch mark.
Malcolm
Paxo's in Kenya fly-fishing with Stephen Fry or whatever the fuck it is he does. Kirsty is sobering up in Kilmarnock with her gran, so she's out of the picture.
Well, I'll just check the lines with Pat Morrissey, then. And then we'll...
Yeah. Pat and, uh, Communications have asked that everything be double-ticked through her from now. (to Malcolm) I mean, you get a tick as well. Obviously.
Malcolm
(sarcastically) Oh well, well obviously! Yes, that's-that's very very nice and that's very fucking big of them! I get a tick!
So I mean, it's, it's two ticks for a, uh, a green light, basically, that's the system.
Malcolm
(beside himself) Pat Morrissey. Communications is full of Nutters these days.
Soon as the PM said he'd be gone inside a year, the Nutters start popping up like mela-fucking-noma.
Malcolm
(to Ollie) See you later. See you in a tick.
(to Ollie) What about you? You're not a Nutter, are you?
I-I'm not a Nutter, Jamie. I'm...I'm a nipper.
(Ollie then bumps into Terri.)
Hi, Ollie, Happy New Year!
Yeah, I know, yeah. Six pairs of socks, three Harry Potter omnibuses. All that "I thought you were taking the giblets out. Don't give Nan any more Baileys. She's only got the one pad with her." (Ollie follows Terri into an office.) Every bloody year.
Yeah, well, you know, just me and Mum in the care home.
Right. Jesus...So, eh, Ben on Newsnight?
Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?
Yeah, yeah. Oh, God, thank God you didn't know, either. I thought it was just me.
Oh no no no. I did know about that, actually.
Well, why did you say it like that, then? "Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?"
You're just out of the loop. I'm very well wired into the Tommists.
(laughing) Nobody calls them Tommists. They're Nutters, Terri. Nobody calls them Tommists.
(dead serious) I don't like that word. My sister works in mental health.
(Malcolm and Jamie enter Ben's office. Time to discuss Ben's upcoming appearance as Jeremy Paxman's guest on Newsnight.)
Malcolm
Good morning, Ben.
Malcolm
(to 2 office workers) Off you two fuck.
(The 2 workers leave Ben's office.)
Malcolm
Right, Ben, heard the big news about Paxo.
Malcolm
What was it you did in your gap year again?
Um, Interrailing, month on a kibbutz –
Malcolm
Did you ever travel, like, 100 miles per hour, head-first through a tunnel full of pig shit? Because that's what's gonna happen to you tonight with Paxman, unless, unless...you listen to us.
He will eat you up, sick you out and grout his fucking wet room with you.
Yeah, I have been interviewed on television before, thank you very much.
Malcolm
Who?
Yeah? Do you know what they call him? Easy George.
Malcolm
This is Paxo. What are you gonna do when he pulls that big rubbery horse-face of mock-incredulity at you?
Yes, look, we know the cheat codes for Paxman now, don't we? That old aggressive style of his is just old school. All you need to do, you play the honest, the Honest Joe just trying to humbly get your point across and...
(pulling up a chair) Let's see you do your stuff, Mr. Television, huh?
(Jamie is pretending to be Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight, asking Ben questions.)
(As Paxo) Immigration is in disarray. What are you going to do about it?
Well, first of all, I would have to take issue with your contention that immigration is in...
Oh, answer the question, you fat fuck!
(Phil and Emma are home in their flat -- discussing Ollie.)
Why the fuck do you have to keep inviting him round here?
Oh, are you a bit jealous?
Of the man from the Mr Muscle adverts? No, I just think it's just unreasonable that I have to watch what I'm gonna say in my own flat; I mean, you could at least give me warning if he's coming round or something.
I tell you what, I'll put a sex grid on the fridge.
So that you can have dates and stuff: I'll put an A4 piece of paper for me up, and maybe you could have half a post-it note? You could share it with Affers, maybe.
Yeah. Have to write really small, though, I've slept with three women in –
(returning from the toilet) Your life?
(Ollie laughs)
(Ollie, Emma, and Phil are watching Ben Swain's Newsnight interview together. Malcolm, who is also watching from his office, is on the phone to Jamie, who is watching Ben from inside the studio.)
What's he doing with his eyes?
Oh my God. He's got a nervous blink.
Malcolm
That's a mega blink! It's not just a blink.
He looks like what happens when you punch a cow. (impersonates a cow mooing in pain)
Oh my God, this is like watching a lion rape a sheep, but in a bad way.
The cameramen are laughing.
He spelled "just" with four Js!
Malcolm
He's like a chicken, he's like an enormous chicken!
It's just one word he's been saying, which is basically (gibberish).
Well, what about the coalface?
Malcolm
Pull it, puncture his lifebelt. Pull it, give him the signal. If he shits, I'll give you 500 quid.
(After Ben Swain's interview)
Well he certainly looked like a Nutter.
He looked like that little guy on the green that shouts 'You're an Arab' at everyone.
It's a tough day tomorrow, picking bits of Ben out of Malcolm's car.
He didn't mention the coalface idea.
Malcolm (seeing Ben Swain arrive): Oh, here he is. Dead man walking.
(impersonating Ben) 'I, I, I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, I, I, I –' (normal voice) What's your favourite band, blink-182?
That's not a proper cigar: a proper cigar is those big Cuban whoppers, that's just a jumped-up fag.
Malcolm
Talking of which –
Ollie (entering): Hi.
Malcolm
Do you fancy a cigar? I promise I won't tell any of the other prefects.
Hand rolled on the thigh of a Cuban virgin with big tits and four kids.
Yeah, thanks. Um, Malcolm, I just wondered if I could have a quick word, actually. The opposition have got the Week at the Coalface idea. They're gonna do it.
Peter Mannion, I don't know when.
Malcolm
How the fuck did they get that? Your fucking girlfriend, Jesus Christ!
You should have dumped that mad bitch ages ago.
Well I would've done! She is mad, she's a mental woman! But you two kept telling me to go out with her and stay going out with her, just in case I found anything out!
Oh, and what did you find out? That you've been leaking intelligence to them? You're the fucking shittest James Bond ever. You're... you're David fucking Niven!
Malcolm
Get him properly fucking screen-tested. I'm sorry mate, but you need a lot of powder, I've never seen anybody look so fucking ugly with just one head.
Yeah. No, I lost my islands of safety, didn't I, which is –
Malcolm
And who was it that did your media training? Myra Hindley? I mean, it was terrible, all this – hands were all over the place. You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra! It was like watching John Leslie at work!
Yes, I know all of that, and it just kind of fell away. God, it was like one of those dreams when you're wandering around Covent Garden or something in just your vest and everyone's staring at you.
I think it was much worse than that, I mean, how many people see you in Covent Garden, a few thousand? Your meltdown was witnessed by 1.2 million people. That's more people than saw Al Jolson in his entire career. And that's Al fucking Jolson!
Malcolm
He loves Al Jolson.
You take the piss out of Jolson again, and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano-sheath, and push it up your cock! And then I'll plug some speakers up your arse, and put it onto shuffle with my fucking fist! And every time I hear something that I don't like, which will be every time that something comes on, I will skip to the next track (to Ben) by crushing your balls!
(looking at a newspaper story with the headline "Silly Tucker: Was web of filth spun by Downing Street 'Spiderman'?")
Malcolm (on the phone): The story isn't me, Glenn, OK? Nobody is interested in me and I'll be pleased if you'd remember that, OK?
Glenn (at his sister's Welsh cottage): You sure you don't want me and Hugh to come back? We could give you some cover.
Malcolm
Hugh is not coming back: it would look like we're panicking, and we're not panicking. But I need you back here fucking ASAP to let them know that we're not panicking.
So you want me to interrupt my holiday in a panic, so that Hugh doesn't have to interrupt his holiday and look like he's panicking?
Malcolm
You get back here! I wanna see you popping a bollock for me! (hangs up)
(walking in, holding up the same 'Silly Tucker' story) You seen this?
Malcolm
No, I haven't seen that. I'm the senior press guy for the Government of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. No, I don't look at the newspapers, that's fucking news to me.
All right, all right. What are we doing?
Malcolm
What are we doing? Fuck all, we're not doing nothing, all right, because I am not the story here.
Well, no, you kind of are the story, Malc: they spelt your name right and everything.
Malcolm
You take this and this, and you put it onto your bird's breasts, and you rub them and squeeze them very very gently, you get her into the sack, you bang her fucking brains out, you make sure that she cums, and you just give her the policy!
Yeah, but I chucked her, and not in a kind of, you know, 'It's not you, it's me' sort of way, more in a 'It is you, you hideous vacuous Sloane bitch from hell' kind of scorched-earth kind of –
Malcolm
I'm really not interested at all in your little tiff. Get round there, take your Barry White album and your lube and your fucking policy folder.
Malcolm, this is really crossing the line here –
Malcolm
Don't start with the moral objections, you fucking Blue Peter badge-wearing ponce! Go and make a contribution to fucking Amnesty International, go and buy a goat the whole village can fuck! But you are doing this for me.
Malcolm, you're bullying me, and, you know, I don't know why you're bullying me, you're –
Malcolm
How dare you? How dare you! Don't you ever, ever, call me a bully. I'm so much worse than that. Do it. OK? Wash your hands.
The Thick Of It · 395 quotes
