(to Phil) Oh, sorry! Do you know what, maybe you should dump Peter and go out with Ollie.
OllieWell, it wouldn't be any more disastrous than our relationship, would it, hey?
Christ, Ollie, well if it's been such a fucking disaster, why didn't you break up with me sooner?
Ollie
Well, if it had been up to me I would have broken up with you sooner!
If it had been up t– Oh, OK – This is Malcolm, isn't it? Malcolm has been pimping you out! You fucking sad little –
OEOllie and Emma
Fuck you, Phil!
Oh, suddenly I'm the bad guy again.
Ollie
Go and read your blog, nerd boy! I'm going. This is the point where I go.
Wow. That point actually exists. Incredible.
Ollie
I will be so not sorry not ever to have to talk to you again, you massive floppy blonde tit! I hope your blog gets done for libel and you get knobbed in prison by men. And – (to Emma) it is over, you self-serving, crypto-fascist, horse-loving, posh, weekend-at-Daddy's, vacuous nothing! (leaves)
Fuck you, Ollie, and put your keys on the side!
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!
Ollie
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 –
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.
Ollie
Malcolm, this is really crossing the line here –
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.
Ollie
Malcolm, you're bullying me, and, you know, I don't know why you're bullying me, you're –
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.
(deleted scene)
(while watching Ben Swain on Newsnight)
Ollie
Still, at least Hugh will be pleased.
Yeah, he'll be thrilled, I'm sure! His department on the rack, he'll be like, 'Hey, Ollie, thanks for running the department, although it seems to have all turned to shit!' You're like the man with the Midas touch, except instead of everything you touch turning to gold, it turns to shit. You're like the man with the shit touch. Shitfinger.
Ollie
Shouldn't you be online pretending to be a Hobbit, eh? Trying to get a date with a lady Hobbit, but failing?
(deleted scene)
Glenn (in his sister's Welsh cottage, on the phone): Ah, Malcolm. Terri's just rung about the wankers' announcement, and I thought you'd want to know, Hugh's on the way to the airport, but do you want me to definitely tell him to get on the plane?
No, it's too fucking late. What's he gonna do, come and shadow the shadow of DoSAC shadowing him? Show him where the bogs are?
Yeah, but you told me to tell him to come home.
Ollie (in Malcolm's office, on the phone): Right, Hugh, hi. Er, no, I don't think you're going to be wanted back here.
Ollie
He's on some road somewhere where he can't do a U-turn for about five miles or something.
Good! I like to know that I can still make him miserable even though he's 12,000 miles away.
(Amidst all the chaos swirling after the announcement of the PM's surprise resignation, Ollie's cell phone rings. It's Angela Heaney.)
Ollie
(answering his phone) Angela, hello.
Ollie
I am tickety-fuckety-boo, thank you very much.
Ollie
Tickety-fuckety-boo. It's just something that Ben says.
Are you and Ben Swain big buds, then?
Ollie
Well, you know...Just, could you...
(Ollie has to get away from Glenn, because Glenn is talking to Hugh on his cell phone.)
Ollie
(to Angela) Hang on just a second...
(Ollie walks away from the action...and then resumes his conversation with Angela.)
Ollie
(in a quieter voice) Things are just a little bit fluid here and Glenn's not really a big Ben fan. Ben Swain obviously, not the clock. Well, it's not the clock, is it? It's the bell that's called Big Ben.
So go on, tell me: Who else is running?
Ollie
(in the men's toilets) Well, no one. No one's gonna stand against Tom now, surely, it's going to be unopposed. (Starts using the urinal) They'll be rebranding him as we speak, I would imagine: new hair, Ted Baker teeth, all the modern trappings of your political leader –
Ollie
Er no, that's the flush of the automatic urinals, it's a gentlemen's lavatory.
I don't want to talk to you while you're holding your penis.
Ollie
Well, that's not what you used to say, Angela.
Ollie
No, well – actually it is precisely what you used to say.
Ollie
Oh, don't tell me he's gone feral, 'cause he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash!
Ollie
Easy for you to say, he threatened to shove an iPod up my cock!
But you get that a lot, though, don't you?
You don't think he's got a chance, do you?
Ollie
Nah, he's just a droid, isn't he? He's just – (makes robotic noises and gestures)
(lecturing Ollie) Hey hey hey hey. Don't-don't-don't let him hear you doing that sort of stuff. What happens if he does stand a chance, eh? He'll fuck you harder than Ron Jeremy, and with less warmth.
You've got this bullshit Watford story covered, yeah?
You and I will have a little discussion later.
Yeah. I think Watford will get bumped by the fact that we're about to hand the nuclear codes to a guy who, every now and then, loses it so bad he needs satnav to find his own nipples.
What are you talking about?
Well, I just thought it was fair to let everyone know about the Tom rumours, you know. How the guy that's about to become Prime Minister chugs antidepressants like they're fucking Smints. How the Black Dog humps his leg and shits in his duvet every four months; I think that will bump the Watford walkout.
You've gone fucking psycho son, fucking psycho! (leaves) TWAT!
Ollie
(answering his mobile) Hello.
Ollie
Well, they don't have a plan.
Okay, well perhaps you should give them one.
Ollie
Well, yes, fantastic, actually, Malc, because obviously I have a very suitable one tattooed on the underside of my scrotum, so why don't we use that –
Shut it, you're using up all the minutes on my 'talk till you get head cancer' tariff!
(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!
Ollie
You don't leak! Well not from the mouth, anyway.
You fucking shut up. At least this is Hugh's Glenn. All that you are, mate, is fucking Ben's Glenn.
(deleted scene)
Ollie
Guardian Online, right?
Ollie
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?
Ollie
'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.
Ollie
'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?
Ollie
Correct! I think you just press F5 for that one, to be absolutely honest with you. 'How do you relax?' 'Cannabis and wanking'?
Ollie
No of course he hasn't, you idiot, 'Listening to opera'.
Ollie
While wanking.
(deleted scene)
Why tonight of all fucking nights, why tonight?
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.
(Meanwhile, Ollie Reeder and Terri Coverley are discussing the Cabinet reshuffle at DoSAC.)
Ollie
(looking at his computer) Remtard at Energy and Climate Change.
Really? I'm not getting that. (Terri looks at her computer.) It's not on here. How did you get that about Remington?
Ollie
(slightly annoyed) Refresh the page.
Yeah. Ah, yeah. Oh look, Fatty's staying put! They're not moving Fatty!
Ollie
Yeah, well, that's 'cause they haven’t got five big blokes and a winch.
They couldn't really demote Fatty, 'cause he knows too much.
Ollie
Well he doesn't know where the Ryvita is kept, does he?
(Hugh Abbot has lost his place in the reshuffle.)
Well. That's Hugh gone, then.
It's so sad, isn't it? Hugh.
Ollie
(to Terri) You don't give a shit!
(beat)
...No, well, perhaps I don't.
(to Glenn and Ollie) Have you two finished emptying your desks yet?
(agitated) Yes, don't worry, Terri, we're all ready to go.
I'm just trying to get everything organised for whenever whoever arrives. They are gonna have their own people. It's gonna be very embarrassing if your hand cream's still in the drawer.
Yeah, well, whatever men have. I don't know, electric nose-hair trimmers, Ex-Lax...
Ollie
(mocking Glenn) Aww, look at Glenn. Your face...On the scrapheap at the tender age of 76? It's no life for you, is it, Glenn, this? Hey, do you want me to call Dignitas? (beat) I could call Indignitas. They could come round and shove you out of the window dressed as a clown.
(Nicola calls both Glenn and Ollie into her office to discuss her policy as the new head of DoSAC.)
My primary focus is social mobility, that's very much my -- my Big Thing.
Ollie
Right.
And I suppose I'm telling you that, really, partly to get your take on it and also so that you can, you know, start spreading the news and printing the posters and, uh, you know, fire up the turbo chargers, set the phases to equality: It's Murray time!
The thing is – and Ollie, please correct me here if I'm wrong.
Ollie
I will certainly do that.
Social mobility, making people richer, costs money.
Ollie
Yes, and we don't have any of that, really.
Ollie
I mean, if you speak to Nick at the Treasury he will tell you the same, only with his annoying lisp.
What you're telling me is that basically I'm gonna be a woman with a computer and some pens.
Ollie
Well, it's just a pen budget.
I mean, I have about as much real power as those twats who sit either side of Alan Sugar.
Ollie
Well – Yes.
The Thick Of It · 395 quotes
