Nicholson! NICHOLSON! 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 until I have the actual charge presented to me –
(impersonating Julius) 'Oh oh oh, the actual charge.' (normal voice) 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 shithole, 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–
MalcolmEat that prawn. Eat that fucking prawn.
I'm not eating prawns, Malcolm, I'm on – I'm just telling you –
Malcolm
Eat that prawn. (throws a slice of pizza at Julius) Eat a bit of fucking pizza.
Don't be stupid. Malcolm –
Malcolm
Eat another prawn. (throws a prawn)
Malcolm
(throws more food) Have some fucking chow mein!
Here, stuff it in his fucking head! Stuff it in his big baby head!
Malcolm
(to Ollie, who has just returned with some cheese) Get that fucking cheese over there!
I don't want the cheese, stop it!
(throwing food at Julius) EAT THE CHEESE! EAT THE FUC–
(being pelted by Malcolm and Ollie) This isn't funny, this is an expensive suit! James, just –
What the fuck are you doing, mate? (runs out of the door)
Malcolm
Hey hey hey, right!
EAT THE FUCKING CHEESE! (chasing after Julius) EAT THE CHEESE, NICHOLSON!
Malcolm (receives an alert on his phone): Oh, I've been summoned to the breakfast meeting, to talk to Tom about this morning: some details about Claire Ballentine, maybe; Geoff Holhurst; young Benjamin here.
Fuck you very much, you unscrupulous bastard.
Malcolm
Scruples? Scruples, what are they? Is that those low-fat Kettle Chips? OK people, wake up and smell the cock! Hey Ben, next time that you wanna stab Caesar, make sure you're not holding a fucking plastic spoon.
(The Mail are revealing that Ben Swain was racist to a cleaner)
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.
Malcolm
You fucking shut up. At least this is Hugh's Glenn. All that you are, mate, is fucking Ben's Glenn.
(deleted scene)
I notice they got Tom to do the questionnaire.
What, trying to make himself look more like a human being and less like a calculator with Aspergers? What does he say?
'When were you happiest?' 'At the birth of my son.'
Bollocks, he wasn't even at the birth of his son. Actually no, he was in an all-night sitting of the Communications Bill, fast asleep. And his sister-in-law woke him with a text.
'What was the last CD you bought?' 'The Scissor Sisters'. (Glenn laughs.) And do we believe him? 'Which living person do you most admire?'
Er, well that's tough. Nelson Mandela?
Correct! I think you just press F5 for that one, to be absolutely honest with you. 'How do you relax?' 'Cannabis and wanking'?
No of course he hasn't, you idiot, 'Listening to opera'.
(deleted scene)
Why tonight of all fucking nights, why tonight?
Malcolm Tucker
Oh well, that's easy: Tucker's Law. 'If some cunt can fuck something up, that cunt will pick the worst possible time to fucking fuck up because that cunt's a cunt.' I've got that embroidered on a tea towel at home.
(It's Cabinet Reshuffle Day in the British Government, and Malcolm Tucker has got his finger on the trigger.)
Malcolm
Ed! Get Tom Rudd in. Now. We're offering him Northern Ireland, the lucky sod.
I think he's expecting to be offered Transport.
Malcolm
Well, tell him he's taking the bus to George Best airport, right?
Malcolm
(calling out to Doug Hayes) Doug! Doug! Dougie! Look at you, cock like the Pink Panther's tail. Come have a Kit Kat.
DHDoug Hayes
I'm afraid I turned it down, Malcolm.
Malcolm
Do you know ninety percent of household dust is made of dead human skin? That's what you are. To me.
(Glenn and Ollie are in Nicola's office, trying to give her tips on how to deal with Malcolm. But before they can do so...Malcolm walks in.)
Malcolm
(entering the office) Is this the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency?
Malcolm Tucker! The real deal. Hello.
(Malcolm and Nicola shake hands.)
Malcolm
(to Nicola, smiling) The real deal. Good to see you. You're looking great! (to Glenn and Ollie) All right, Hinge and Bracket, time to go and hang up your lady-cocks.
(Glenn and Ollie leave, and Malcolm continues his conversation with Nicola.)
Malcolm
Nicola Murray! Here you are, Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship.
Yep, I now have one of the longest job titles in Western politics. Thank God I don't have to wear a lapel badge.
Malcolm
It's a pity that we couldn't just make an abbreviation of it, you know, like PFI. Which I think stands for Pretty Fucking Imbarrassing. If you're a bit sloppy about the details, which clearly your fucking husband is.
Okay, look, James works for Albany, fine. He wasn't even working there when the contract was awarded.
Malcolm
(smiling) Don't worry, don't worry. That was just me, that was...
(getting the joke) Okay, right. Fine.
Malcolm
(serious again) I mean, that's the sort of thing the press will throw at you. I mean, you step out of line, they'll be all over you like a pigeon on a chip, you know? Is that your chair?
Oh God, yeah. It's cool, isn't it? It's got, um, lumbar support.
Malcolm
Bin it. People don't like their politicians to be comfortable. They don't like you having expenses. They don't like you being paid. They'd rather you lived in a fucking cave.
Ok, fine. So, uh, what should I be sitting on? Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?
Malcolm
A fucking normal chair, right? Not a fucking massive vibrating throne.
(Meanwhile, in Nicola's office...)
Malcolm
So, uh, you got three kids, yeah?
Malcolm
Four!
Yeah. Katie's 16, she's the eldest. She's just left school.
Malcolm
Not going to a college or university?
Um, she's a bit of a rebel.
Malcolm
(concerned) What sort of a rebel? I mean, so, I mean, look, what are we talking here? Are we talking a pierced navel or holidays at Pakistani training camp?
It's-it's chiefly heroin. (beat) Although she has cut down since getting pregnant by that Nigerian people-smuggler, because the track marks would have affected her porn career.
(Terri has awkwardly entered the office. She politely apologizes for the interruption, but feels...a little awkward about the conversation taking place.)
I'm sorry to disturb. Um... (to Malcolm) Morning, Malcolm.
Malcolm
Morning, Terri.
(to Nicola) Just wanted to give you a few things here. That's change from the fruit salad. This is this morning's paper. Do excuse me.
(Terri politely leaves the office...and Nicola resumes her chat with Malcolm.)
Um, I'm surprised that you, uh, haven't vetted me, I thought you'd know about the kids.
Malcolm
It's just that 'cause you were just a sort of, you were a bit of a late-ish kind of appointment.
Malcolm
That didn't quite give me the time to, you know, to "fuck the I'd and fist the T's," as Robert Robertson might say.
(At Number 10, Malcolm sees Ed walking down the hall, all stressed out.)
Malcolm
Hey, what's wrong with you? You look like you've shat a Lego garage or something.
Jim Lane's daughter is standing as an independent in Leamington Spa.
(Malcolm and Ed start walking...)
Malcolm
(silently, to himself) For fuck's sake...fuck. (to Ed) This is gonna split our vote.
Do you think we're in trouble? Maybe we should have chosen her over Liam Bentley.
Malcolm
No. She thinks just because her dead fat-arse dad was the MP that gives her the right to be our candidate? No no no. This isn't Czarist Russia. It's not the fucking Dimblebys.
Malcolm
We send everyone up there, to support Liam Bentley, including the Prime Minister.
You want to send Tom up there?
Malcolm
Yeah, fuck it, he'll be all right as long as he doesn't do the smile. You hit the phones, right? I'll be with you in two shakes of a crying baby.
Malcolm
You have been asked by the PM, specifically, to pop along to Leamington, and do some photo ops with Liam Bentley, supporting him, yeah?
I don't really have any choice, do I?
Malcolm
Of course you have a choice. You can decide exactly how you say yes. You can do it with a voice. Have fun with it.
(Pause) Yes. (Beat) In my own voice.
(Nicola suspects that Malcolm set up the 'I am bent' photos)
Malcolm. Sorry, can we just carry on talking about that thing? Was it you who positioned me there?
Malcolm
(waiting for a lift) Do you know what the first sign of madness is? Paranoia. Have you seen that film, you know, A Beautiful Mind, the one with that, err, Russell Crowe? The one where the maths guy thinks that the CIA are working away in his shed at the bottom of his garden? That's you.
No. I'm not the mad one here. You are the mad one, you're Russell Crowe.
Malcolm
No, no, no, no, you are Russell Crowe. (waves patronisingly at her) And you need to fucking listen to me, Russell, you fucking Antipodean fucking kangaroo-loving fruitcake! See this poster stuff? That's fucking small fry. That's fucking whitebait, Russ me old cobber. (enters the lift) The really horrible stuff, that's all still about to happen to you, right? Right, you're coming in here so we can carry this on?
Malcolm
Err, if you can spare the time!
Err, no. (pause) No, I can't – I don't use lifts, I'm claustrophobic.
Malcolm
(incredulous) You're what?
Not hugely, I can be in rooms, you've seen that, I just... don't do lifts, that's all.
Malcolm
But this lift is – I mean, it's fucking huge! I mean, this is bigger than some rooms, this is bigger than some people's flats!
It's about not being able to get out.
Malcolm
Oh, well that's great. That's fucking great, that's another fucking thing, right there: not only have you got a fucking bent husband and a fucking daughter that gets taken to school in a fucking sedan chair, you're also fucking mental! Jesus Christ, see you, you are a fucking omnishambles, that's what you are. You're like that coffee machine, you know: "from bean to cup, you fuck up".
(to herself, returning to her office) He so is Russell Crowe!
(at her desk, overhearing) Who?
(deleted scene)
Because if you are worried about Malcolm, well, you know, Ollie and I have amassed one or two tips, how to deal with him, over the years. It's pretty much common sense, really: don't drive a gas guzzler, don't sign up for Bupa, don't have an affair. Don't tell racist jokes, however ironic.
Don't send your children to independent schools.
Don't dig up Diana and have Patrick Moore play Nazi drinking songs on her ribs.
(deleted scene)
Yeah I suppose so, he's gonna have to let her go free-range for a week, isn't he? Till after the by-election. Then he can snap her beak off, cram her into the battery cage;
'I'm not really good with cages', (impersonates Malcolm) 'Get in there Nicola, fucking get in till you're perfectly square, and you're shiteing cuboid eggs!'
(sighing) Thank God I'm safe. I'm glued to this department and you'd have to steam me off.
Yeah. Well you don't have to worry about me: You don't hang around in this business as long as I have without picking up contacts.
Yes, but Disraeli's dead, Glenn, he died in the Crimea, did you not hear the town crier announce it?
(deleted scene)
Malcolm
It's never too soon to go to Leamington. It's the Venice of the Midlands, if Venice was fucking horrible.
Malcolm
Have a lovely time in Leamington, yeah? I hear it's got the best Lidl in the West Midlands.
(deleted scene)
(at the poster launch in Leamington) And we need to be investing, er, at least –
Invest? Did I hear her say 'invest'?
(on the phone) Ollie, she's gone off-piste, she's off the mountain now.
Oh, Jesus. She's so far off the mountain, she's being finger-banged in a chalet by Bigfoot.
(Malcolm and Nicola are talking about a newspaper story calling for Nicola to be "sacked.")
You've seen the sack race thing, I suppose. Yeah, there it is.
(Malcolm, of course, thinks the story is funny.)
It's not funny! It's not even accurate, because technically I was fourth. So, really, they should have said, "Fourth in the Sack race." I think we should complain to the PCC.
Malcolm
Look, stop worrying: the PM is not going to sack you after a week. Sacked after twelve months, looks like you've fucked up; sacked after a week, looks like he's fucked up.
I'm not doing terribly, am I?
(beat)
Malcolm
(looking out of the car window) I love the way that they've sandblasted everything around here. It's so clean!
I'd just like people to get to know the real me. You know, I feel like I'm coming across as a bit...Oh, I don't know. Glum.
Malcolm
Smug.
Malcolm
Yeah, you're coming across as more smug than glum.
'Cause I am actually quite a fun person, underneath all of this. I've got loads of friends.
Malcolm
Well, I'm sure you have, but the trouble is when you say something like that, it sounds a wee bit smug. (to Nicola's driver) Can you just pull in over here? And you can take out that cyclist as you go in, I think he's Shadow Cabinet.
The Thick Of It · 395 quotes
