(Suddenly, Glenn's cell phone goes off in the control room.)
(the show's producer, to Glenn) Out!
Is that Nicola's doctor? Probably trying to book a circumcision.
(Glenn goes out of the control room to answer his phone.)
MalcolmAre you producing porno now for the visually impaired?
Malcolm
Because what I'm hearing here, on my radio, is Nicola Murray being roundly fucked. What is this, Bukkake at Bedtime? Just, fu– put Ollie on.
Ollie, erm – Well he's not here, he's at home.
Malcolm
Tell that fucking stick of celery to get his arse out of there, and get down to 5 Live right now. Tell him to inject some energy into Nicola's performance. At the moment, she's coming across like a Nazi float at the fucking Notting Hill Carnival.
(Richard is taking another call on his show.)
James Henderson, what's your point?
Is that Jim Henderson from Clifton?
(surprised) You two know each other?
We've met. We know each other.
JJames
(talking to Peter on the phone line) We've met! Yes, we have met. I'm surprised to hear you turning on the city boys. Um, you never found the JFU donating huge wodges of cash to your party disgusting.
Well, that's a separate issue...
JJames
(continuing) Even though everyone knows they've got links with sweatshops.
Well, that's quite an extraordinary allegation, very serious.
Malcolm
(still in his office) YES!
That should be looked into, but...
Malcolm
Oh, it's my birthday!
...I don't know the facts.
JJames
I've just told you the facts! Are you calling me a liar?
I can't believe my ears, did we just break a story that wasn't 'the Ipswich manager just got sacked'?
Peter Mannion, can you explain, please, why your party spin doctor has arrived entirely announced?
I would say it was an indication of how seriously our party is taking the allegations that we were...
...receiving donations from...
From a sweatshop labour company.
Malcolm
(to Stewart) Ooh! Did you prep him with this shit, yeah?
Yeah, yeah, yeah. The last thing I said to him was go in there and bomb.
Malcolm
(chuckling) Well, it fucking worked. Usually, he comes across like, you know, just another third-rate Donald Sinden. But tonight, he's like a ventriloquist's dummy that's fucking falling to bits.
Yeah, it's really nice to see you without those veins in your temples throbbing.
Malcolm
'Cause you have really got your work cut out with him, haven't you? Look at the hair. You've got to do something. He's like fucking Swiss Toni.
Yeah. Well, this is radio, Malcolm, but it's great to be getting this straight from you. Thanks.
Look, do you guys have to make so much noise?
Malcolm
(to Janice) I don't know if they told you this on your training day, love, but this is fucking soundproofed, that, they can't hear you. I mean, we're like Ted Moult to them.
Look, can you please get out?
Malcolm
No. Actually, we -- we are entitled to be in here. That lot, they should all be in here. All the political advisors should be in here.
(Malcolm brings EVERYBODY into the Control Room!)
Malcolm
I just want to add to the party atmosphere. I'm perfectly entitled to this.
(While Malcolm is doing this, Stewart is reading a text message off of Janice's computer screen.)
Gather round, everybody. There is a text here from Tim in Ruislip. This is what Tim's text says: "Nicola is a hypocrite. JFU also donate to the government. In fact, they donate twice as much as they do to the opposition."
(in the studio) Can I just say to the listeners at home, I have no idea what's going on now. We're in a studio, there's another room next door...
Malcolm
(pushing everybody out) We have to get out, right? Okay. Let's get, you know...
(to Malcolm) What do you reckon, Malcolm? It seems like a big issue to me.
Malcolm
It's not. We're going to move on to piercings.
(to Janice) Janice, I'm sure in the interest of balance, you'll want to...
Right, can you shut up, right? Malcolm's right, I decide what is news.
Malcolm
Absolutely.
And this is fucking news!
Malcolm
Bullshit! Right. See this here? (Malcolm goes to the "Shut Down" button.) You do it and I will press this fucking button.
Don't fucking threaten me!
Malcolm
This switch...
Malcolm
You do that and I will...
(Richard reads the text from "Tim in Ruislip," which turns the whole Murray-Mannion debate on its' head.)
We've just received this text message from Tim in Ruislip...
(smiling) Ooh. She's actually put it through.
And he says, "Nicola is a hypocrite. JFU also donate to the government. In fact, they donate twice as much as they do to the opposition."
(Malcolm is very upset with Janice for sending Tim's text message through to Richard's computer in the studio.)
Malcolm
That's your fucking career over, right, OK, you're fucking dead. And those three little words, 'Tim in Ruislip', are the fucking nails in your coffin, dear. (imitates hammering) Tim. In. Ruislip. Tim in fucking Ruislip. And as for Tim in fucking –
Yeah, okay, can you stop fucking saying that, please?
Malcolm
– FUCKING, fucking Ruislip, he's fucking dead as well! That fucking texting coward. Give me his number. What's his fucking number? Give me the fucking number of Tim in Ruislip.
(to her assistant) Erase it. Take it off the screen now.
Malcolm
If you don't give me his fucking number, do you know what I'm gonna have to do? I'm gonna have to fucking go to fucking Ruislip, and fucking snap the thumb and forefinger off of every single person I see, who I think resembles the kind of wanker that would be walking around in this day and fucking age with a name like fucking Tim! How do you think that sounds, huh?
Malcolm
(whispering to Stewart) You and I have to have a word.
(to Janice and her assistant) I think he wants me to step outside.
(Malcolm is bossing everybody around, acting like he's the President of the BBC.)
Malcolm
(to the "Piercings Man") Right. You're on, mate. Come on. Get in there now. I want you in there rattling your fucking jewelry and talking about your fucking Prince Albert. Come on.
(to Piercings Man) He doesn't actually work here.
Malcolm
(to everybody else) Vamoose, you lot! Fucking vamoose! (to Piercings Man) Come on, Johnny fucking Depp. Get in here.
PMPiercings Man
(to Malcolm) Get off!
Malcolm
I'll fucking shove a fucking magnet down your throat and watch your fucking face implode! Get in there!
(The Piercings Man comes into the studio.)
Malcolm
Here he is. Piercings. In you go. Sit down there, son, no problem, go ahead.
Now, I assume you're here for the piercings debate...
(Malcolm Tucker vs. Stewart Pearson: The Spin Doctor Showdown!)
Malcolm
Here's the fucking thing. Nobody talks about fucking dodgy donors, okay? Because it makes everybody look bad.
Okay, I'll go with a different angle, then. How do you think it would land with your female voters if they were to find out that Tom Rudd forced his secretary into having an abortion?
Malcolm
That was her own personal choice, and by the way, it wasn't his. (whispers) Over here.
(Malcolm and Stewart walk away from the studio.)
Wow! So him paying for a private clinic, then, was just because he's such a nice man?
Malcolm
He IS a nice man. What about your nice man at Central Planning, eh? The one who got a bit carried away and fucking slapped his kids about a little bit too much? Fucking broke the skin! But he wasn't such a nice man, was he? But I suppose that's just part of your "common sense checklist," yeah. All they need is a good slap and do please remember to leave your fucking rings on!
You go check your facts, Malcolm. That was a domestic accident and nothing more.
Malcolm
Domestic accident, yeah, 'cause he's got fucking hands the size of fucking doors!
Oh, you want to talk about hardmen, Malcolm, yeah? Now I know you've got to be hard to be a chief whip, but really, coke dealing at university?
Malcolm
Oh! Please, please!
Hey, am I right in thinking he's now godfather to one of the PM's kids, yeah?
Malcolm
Listen, you know what I have got at the back of my fucking filing cabinet? I've got a fucking photograph that I've been waiting for a fucking rainy day to show everyone, which is a photograph of your fucking Shadow Chancellor, at one of his fucking parties, dressed up in fucking bra, suspenders, and fucking blackface! What's his defence gonna be, hey, when I email that to the fucking Sun? "Oh, well I am just de Shadow Chancellor"?
Malcolm, he won't have a defense, because you haven't got that picture...
Malcolm
I have!
Because that didn't happen! However, I do have a statement from a rent boy...
Malcolm
Oh, that's very useful for you. You can claim that against your expenses, can't you?
Oh, yeah, funny, very funny.
Malcolm
And you'll get that for free. Is that one of the perks of your fucking job?
No, listen. His statement says...he will swear that one of your prominent back-bench MPs paid him to shit on his chest!
Malcolm
DON'T!
(Malcolm and Stewart actually reach a compromise.)
Malcolm
Right, look, this is out of order, okay?
Here's the deal. We both, both make statements saying that our guys in there, they were not in possession of all the facts. Hmm? But we're looking into it.
Malcolm
You'd do that? Hang your own guy out to fucking dry?
What? Peter Mannion, MP? Yeah! Old guard? We're not sending him to DoSac to fatten him up. We're putting him out to pasture, Malcolm.
Malcolm
We should just go home.
We can do that. We can just seal this in. Contain the toxicity. Chernobyl FM.
Malcolm
I mean, you carry on like this and I might not find you utterly fucking contemptible.
That's an incentive. I'll get my bag.
(Malcolm listens to the radio as he leaves in Nicola's car.)
Andrew in Suffolk writes, 'The body is a temple. Temples aren't made of metal. Case closed.'
Malcolm
(to Nicola's driver) You couldn't turn that to Magic FM, could you mate? Otherwise I'm gonna have to tear my eyelids off and scrunch them up into fucking earplugs.
(Malcolm has to restart the conversation with Nicola and Terri in Nicola's office.)
Malcolm
(to Terri) Terri, I fucking e-mailed you and I told you to move it to later, because I wanted to administer a preparatory fucking verbal cosh. Right?
Malcolm
And there it is. (Malcolm is looking at the e-mail on his cell phone.) It didn't fuck -- It didn't fucking send!
Malcolm
It didn't send, right?
There you go. You just owe me an apology, that's all.
Malcolm
(insulted) I'm sorry?
Malcolm
That wasn't an apology. That was a "pardon?" I'm sorry.
(to Malcolm) Why aren't you on the Tom tour, by the way?
Yeah, I heard Steve Fleming was on the tour. Hmm. Big beast.
Malcolm
Tiny fucking rodent, more like. He's part of the larger problem.
Malcolm
(to Nicola) Have you been at Number 10 lately? Jesus, it's like the break-up of the Beatles, right? During the fall of the Roman Empire, while fucking Jordan's getting divorced from that bloke. All happening at the same time in a tiny fucking terraced house, yeah? Anyway, this interview, right?
Malcolm
How'd it go?
(stuttering) It-It-It's a small...
(At this moment, Terri's cell phone rings...)
(to Malcolm) Sorry, Malcolm. Can I? Sorry.
(While Terri leaves Nicola's office to take the call, Nicola continues talking to Malcolm.)
(to Malcolm) They wanted to talk Tom, and, uh, I said that he was the best man for the job.
Malcolm
Yeah, well, so what? I mean, it's the BBC. It's not fucking Spare Rib, is it?
I-I thought it might sound like I thought I was the best woman for the job.
Malcolm
Listen, Nicola, no offense, but you're not leadership material, yeah? I mean, fucking curtain material in that outfit, but you know.
(to Nicola) Right, um, the BBC have put it on the website. You saying that the PM's the best man for the job.
Yeah, and they're saying that you fired the starter pistol on a new leadership bid.
(watching a video on a computer) I've got it on here.
(Sure enough, a video of Nicola's interview with Gavin Boyes is playing on the BBC website.)
(on the video) I mean, yes. Absolutely. At some point, I would love there to be a female leader. But I believe that the current Prime Minister is absolutely the best man for the job.
(to Terri) No! I said "person" and you went "huh" over it!
Malcolm
(to Nicola) This is bad.
(to Nicola) It wasn't on a microphone...
Malcolm
(again to Nicola) It is fucking bad. (to Terri) Terri. get on to the BBC, fucking nuke them. Nuke them and rebuke them.
Terri; Yep, got it.
Malcolm, maybe we're making matters worse. We're making them think we've got a live one. I just think we're overreacting.
Malcolm
No no no no no. We nip this in the fucking knackers now, okay?
(smiling) It's been, uh, a wonderful experience here. I think I'll leave you all to it. My work here is done.
Malcolm
(to Ben) Whoa whoa whoa whoa no no no no. You're staying here, mate.
(objecting) I'm not staying here. You haven't even got biscuits here.
Malcolm
You stay here, right? The situation's fucking febrile.
(Ben is puzzled by the word "febrile.")
Malcolm
You don't fucking know what febrile means.
Malcolm
No you don't. It-It means there are gonna be hysterical journalists, right? Watching every fucking move we make. So I want you unplugged from the mains until the danger's past.
(calling out from Nicola's office) Right, there's-there's a few journalists out there already.
Malcolm
(to Ben) See? See, there you are. It's a fucking feeding frenzy.
Yeah? Well, not in here, it's not.
Malcolm
(again to Ben) Don't panic, Orca. We'll get sandwiches, okay? (to Ollie) How many are there there?
Malcolm
Right. Eight constitutes a lockdown.
(And so, Malcolm leaves Nicola's office to lock DoSAC down.)
Malcolm
Right, people, listen up! It's a fucking lockdown! Right now!
Oh, come off it! We're not in a prison drama, are we?
Malcolm
(to Nicola) We are in a prison drama and this is the fucking Shawshank Redemption, right? But with more tunnelling through shit and no fucking redemption. (back to the crowd) Right, people, nobody move, right? Nobody move, nobody gets fucking truncheoned in the face. This is a lockdown, right? What that means is this office is now an isolation unit. Do not use the phones. No fucking emails. (to Glenn, who's still on his cell phone) No phones, Glenn. Come on.
(ending his phone call) I-I've got to go. Bye.
Are you emailing? Are you stirring this up? Is that why you came into DoSAC today: did you have a big bucket of shit and a whisk?
Just, you know, 'Joan Rivers wants to be the new Prime Minister. Have a look at this clip of her online, staking her bid.'
Come on, it's not my fault you've dressed up like a dead geisha.
Because I'm bored, it's funny and – and I hate you. There you are, the holy trinity of why.
Do you know, talking to you is like talking to a fucking whoopee cushion!
Two bits, actually. Um...
Malcolm
Enough. Can we all just shut the fuck up, okay? So we can gather our thoughts. So, one at a time. Private Godfrey, get to your station. (Glenn runs to his desk) I want to hear what the word is on the street.
All right, (reporting from his computer) 'Ben has been seen coming into DoSAC but not going out. Possibly Ben is her running mate as number two in a leadership bid.'
Hah! Right, I don't mind going out there now and telling them all face to face just how much I hate Nicola and how unlikely that is to happen, and get myself a sandwich, I'm fucking starving –
Malcolm
What did I just fucking say, what did I just fucking say? I said one at a fucking time. Stand up. (Ben does not stand) I'm telling you to fucking stand up, you sack of fucking cum! Stand the fuck up! (Ben stands) Fucking move, right. (Malcolm grabs a keyboard) See that? Fucking play with that, right? Never mind your fucking toys, play with that. (Malcolm hands Ben the keyboard and pushes him) Go and stand in that fucking corner. Stand over there, right? And do not move, or I will perform a fucking living fucking autopsy on you! With a fucking rusty spade, and I'll have your kidneys for fucking CUFFLINKS!
Malcolm
(to Ben) See, you? Get me a fucking Curly Wurly, right?
(Shortly afterwards, Ben gives Malcolm a Curly Wurly.)
Malcolm
It's a classic Curly Wurly I wanted. A Curly Wurly should be the size of a small ladder.
Your hands have got bigger.
That was utterly humiliating. For fuck's sake, Malcolm!
Malcolm
Shouldn't that be 'of fuck's sake'?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Malcolm
May I just quote it to you? 'The Prime Minister is the right man for the moment.'
Yeah. That's what you told me to say.
Malcolm
Of the moment, of the moment, I told you to say 'of the fucking moment': there's a huge difference between me saying to you, 'Nicola, I would like to go for a lovely walk with you', and 'Nicola, I would like to make a hat out of your fucking entrails!' (And then, Malcolm's cell phone rings. Again.) Excuse me.
(Who's on Malcolm's cell phone NOW?)
Malcolm
Steven. (beat) Yes, well you can tell Tom right now that I'm fucking sweating embryos for him, okay?
The Thick Of It · 395 quotes
