(Meanwhile, Ollie and Emma are arguing in the hallway...and Terri's sitting just inches away from them.)
EmmaOllie, we just, we don't make any time for each other any more.
We're busy people. We work really, really hard. We work harder than Fat Pat's arteries. Of course we...
Did you used to make time for each other? I mean, I think that's the crucial question.
Emma
Sorry...
Okay, just for a second, Aunt Terri, fuck off!
Pretend you've got to go and have a shit or something.
(to Emma) You're going to be a lot better off without him.
Emma
What do you mean I'm going to be...
You're not going to be better off...
Emma
(to Ollie) Sorry, have you...Do you talk about me at work?
Oh, fuck this! This is like that nightmare I had about being on Loose Women.
(After Ollie walks away from the argument, however, he sees Glenn and Phil talking in the corner.)
(to Phil) ...that one at all. I mean, everyone knows that Schumacher is Stig.
I think that was just publicity, just to keep it going.
(to himself) Right. I'll go back to Loose Women.
(still talking to Glenn) Friend of mine thinks it's actually May, Hammond and Clarkson, purely 'cause Stig is an anagram of "gits."
(Ollie is forced to go back to Emma and Terri's corner.)
Emma
I just don't think he should be talking about me at all, let alone things that are totally private.
No, I agree, I absolutely – (sees that Ollie has returned) Then the bank bonuses are very high, aren't they?
I know you've been talking about me, Terri, because I've got this weird Derren Brown thing going on where I can see and hear things, Terri.
Emma
So, Ollie, what exactly have you been saying to them in the office about me?
I've been saying, er, you smell of fennel, you're racist –
Emma
Funny.
– you torture horses, and you're in The Bangles, that's what I've been saying about you at work.
Emma
See, I think you've been sexually bragging.
Well, don't flatter yourself.
(Stewart has finally entered the room.)
(to Emma) Emma, I didn't send you here so you could chat about your sex life. I sent you here to back-block Peter's narrative, hmm? (Stewart then points to the Piercings Man.) And what's happened to Phil? I mean, don't get me wrong, I like him, but I'm not seeing him in man-made fibers.
Emma
He's just drying his...He's drying his trousers.
(Stewart's in quiet disbelief...)
(Over at Opposition HQ, however, Malcolm's departure is being celebrated by Peter Mannion and his team.)
Emma
Yeah, a really shit era though, isn't it?
Emma
(to Phil) Oh, f-- Calm down!
Balrog's dead! I mean, that's it. I mean, they're done. I mean, no one can replace him. It's like when Queen lost Freddie. You know. Certainly not Paul Rodgers.
(Stewart Pearson, however, wants no part of the festivities. He wants everyone to get back to business.)
All right, everyone. That's the two seconds of respect due to him. Now get back to your desks and do something, okay? (to a female worker) Not the sofa! Who are you, Lorraine Kelly? Get out here and do something! If you've nothing to do, leave, because you're clearly surplus to requirements!
All right now, listen up, my children of a lesser god, you will find a file marked 'Snap Election Drill' on the J drive. And if you don't know how to access the J drive, hand your pass in at reception, go and buy some silver body paint, and pretend to be a robot on the South Bank. Fly my pretties, fly!
(Suddenly, Phil's cell phone rings.)
Stewart! Stewart, The Fucker's downstairs.
No, no, no. He's not downstairs, but if he were, I'd know about it, and if I knew about it, I would have vetoed it. Okay?
Emma
He is, and he is complete poison.
Ah, The Fucker! (to Stewart) And you thought he was just a myth created to frighten naughty MPs into eating all their truffles and swan.
Watch my lips. Cal Richards is not here.
(But Cal Richards IS there...and he's headed their way.)
Good to see you. I didn't know about this. JB didn't say anything.
Hello, everyone. I just wanted it to be a surprise.
(Cal shakes hands with Peter, Phil and Emma while he's talking to Stewart.)
Yeah, why are you...why are you here?
Well, mate, I just thought I'd check in with the intellectual powerhouse of the party. That's all. That's why I'm here.
Right. Well, if you want to step in the office, yeah, I'll dismiss the children and we can talk.
No. 'Cause I'm kidding, aren't I? No, because I've come here to tell you that you're fucking sacked.
(thrilled) Halle-bloody-lujah!
(A look of doom comes over Stewart's face...)
Should I escort Stewart from the building, then, Cal?
Emma
Philip, Don't be such a fucking turncoat.
Yes, Philip, excellent idea. And while you're there, could you do me another favour, please? Could you find a hostel, go there, and take a fucking overdose of barbiturates?
(Emma chuckles at Cal's request.)
Yeah, right. Okay, well, I'm not fired. You can't fire me, Cal, so shall we just cut to the chase? Hmm?
(pretending to talk like a baby) "Aw, you can't fire me, Cal, 'cause you're..." Gotcha! I'm kidding. Of course you're not fired. Look at your face.
(smiling, but not amused) Funny.
I'm sensing a change in management styles here from touchy-feely to smashy-testes.
No, okay, joking aside, I'm just an impartial observer. Quite partial, obviously. So, uh, take it away, Captain Mainwaring.
(to the crowd) All right, folks, listen up. We have three key targets when we are smart-bombing our beloved PM and they are: The deficit, unemployment, lack of leadership. Get onto the J drive, you'll find key...
(And then suddenly -- Cal EXPLODES!)
FUCK, THAT IS BRILLIANT!! THAT IS INSPIRED! WHAT SAUCE! GET IN! IT'S THE ECONOMY, STEWPOT! Fuck, what I REALLY need to do is to shoot you all in the back of the head! (imitating a gun) FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! But I can't, because it's illegal!
(Then, Cal calms back down again.)
Okay, I'd like a small cappuccino, two extra shots, please. I think we've got a long night ahead of us. (to Stewart) Come on!
(to Cal) I'm coming. (to Peter) Better the devil you know, huh?
(Malcolm Tucker and Cal Richards are giving pre-election pep talks to their respective parties)
I know what people say to you, right? They say: 'We hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.' Everybody hates you. So fucking what? Some people, they just fucking love to hate. Some people, they'd fucking walk around the fucking Garden of Eden fucking moaning about the lack of fucking mobile reception. These are the kind of fucks who watched Mandela – fucking Nelson Mandela – walk to freedom, and said 'Is Diagnosis: Murder not on the other side?' So we fucking forget about them.
This government has run this country into the ground. This used to be a green and pleasant land, now it's the colour of the fucking BBC Weather map. It looks like anaemic dogshit.
JB, Cal Richards, and their hordes of fucking robots, they're coming over the hill, towards us! And all you have got to do is this: bend down, pick up any fucking weapon you can, and twat the fuckery out of them –
This government is maimed, but it can't be shamed. It will. Be. FUCKED!
Let's get out there, and let's fucking kill them, LET'S SET FIRE TO TEARS! Let's go! (all applaud and cheer) Come on! Let's go, yes!
Phil (to Emma): What do we do?
(on an office phone) What do I call for an outside line?
Emma
That was great, wasn't it?
Is it 9, 'cause that's what it is everywhere else?
(at Peter's office door) Ah, Peter. I'm expecting great things!
Laters, legislators. (leaves)
Peter (looking at Fergus's policy): The only way this policy launch could be worse is if I understood the bloody thing.
Glenn (walking in with a file which he dumps on Phil): Right, I'm gonna put the old tea-cauldron on! Anybody fancy a brew?
(They all ignore him. During Emma's line, he gives up and leaves.)
Emma
Peter, risk of sounding like your mum: time for school. You need to get to this meeting.
I hate schoolchildren, they're volatile and stupid and they haven't got the vote. Might as well be talking to fucking geese.
Well, you know the school's only 10 minutes from your house. You could pop round for a late lunch.
Not much of a celebration. "Hello, darling, make me a Cup-a-Soup." Oh, now, I need a thoughtful, very personal present for Tina. Any ideas?
Erm, what about a sexy undergarment?
(disappointed in Phil's suggestion) No.
Emma
Perfume. What perfume does she wear?
No idea. Expensive, smells a bit of lemons.
Peter, before you go, I-I do really need a comment, I'm sorry, on this Tickel protest, please.
OK: 'As we enter the third week, I find Mr. Tickle's attention-seeking tent-based twattery even more annoying than weeks one and two.'
Really? Oh then by implication you know what you can say, so say that instead.
(Peter, Phil, and Emma are in the car to the policy launch)
Does he understand the policy? Forgive my concern, but it's a bit like asking if a dog can grasp the concept of Norway.
(on the phone to Emma) We have a question: does he understand the – Oh, she's hung up! Ever the charmless minor royal.
And I keep a straight face, do I, when I say to a room full of frogspawn, 'Upload your future'?
Emma
You know, that sounds great! No pronunciation traps. 'Cause you know what happened to the Chancellor, don't you, at the BRITs? 'Tinny' Tempah?
Well, it could have been worse, I heard he opened his stag do speech with 'my niggaz'.
(Peter is at the school making his speech...I Call App Britain!)
Why is it that Silicon Valley is in America when we have so many net-savvy tech-heads here? They may have the silicon chip, but we have the silicon chap. And of course, chapesses. Er, and we want you to design game apps for use in the classroom.
Emma
Sorry, sorry to interrupt: erm, it's not game apps, we're actually looking for educational apps.
Er, of course. That's why I'm here to say: I call you up. App. I, I Call App Britain. Yes. And everyone will benefit, not financially, er, not cash in hand, of course: all profits will be stored as part of a digital dividend, which –
RRaj
'Scuse me, are you saying that if I wrote an app I wouldn't get any money for it? I would be working for free?
If you don't mind we'll keep the Q&A to the end. What I wanted to emphasise –
CCharlotte
Sorry, er, why can't you just answer him now?
CCharlotte
Well, the other lady was allowed to interrupt.
Yes, but she's my lady. (everyone laughs except Emma) Er, what was your question again?
RRaj
Why won't we profit from this?
Oh, but you would! Er, maybe I didn't explain it properly. What's your name?
Well, er, Rajesh Raj – (the students laugh) Oh, right. (chuckles) Well, er, what I, what I wanted to say is that, that you would, er, profit, that any profits you made would be offset against tuition fees –
CCharlotte
Sorry, we don't believe in tuition fees.
Oh, well, that's an easier one.
Emma
(to Phil) Fuck me, I feel like I've just been pushed out of a plane.
RRaj
I make apps. I sell them through Apple and I get paid for it.
Good for you, Ra– er, good for you, but with us, you let us license it as part of the Networked Nation policy. We all put in, you see –
RRaj
What do you put into the Networked Nation?
Well, er, I am – a Minister.
RRaj
But what do you actually do?
I take the, the – science that, that you made earlier, and I – apply it, in – scenarios that are – cost-effective.
(deleted scene)
Right, I'd better get on. Sometimes I think I never stop working.
The staff cuts. What do you know?
Ah, I see, that's what this whole chat's been about, has it, mental pickpocketing?
You see, you don't need to tell me: I'll just list off a few names. You do that girly flicky thing with your hair, OK?
Was that it, was that code? Am I going?
No, I'm telling you to fuck off.
(deleted scene)
RRaj
What do you actually do?
(quiet laughter from the students)
I am the, er, Secretary of State for Social Affairs a-and Citizenship.
It's a bit like being the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch? Er, you watch Game of Thrones, yeah?
(the students laugh)
TTeacher
Hey, quiet now – quiet! Raj, that language is unacceptable, OK?
I'll say, you – you wouldn't use that kind of language in front of your extended family.
Students (shocked): Oh!
Emma
Oh my good God, I cannot believe childbirth is more painful than this.
(Peter, Emma and Stewart are in the car, on the way to Thought Camp...and ALL 3 of them are on their cell phones. Stewart is talking to a Minister, Emma is talking to Phil, and Peter is talking to his wife. )
I was picked up at seven, of course I haven't walked the dog. I barely had time to take myself for a shit.
Emma
Phil, I'm sure you're suffering from "Peter Withdrawal" symptoms, but I really, really need you to keep an eye of the Tickel issue.
Thought Camp ETA 13 minutes, okay? You're taking the bridge, Kieran.
Emma
Okay, well, you can start by not referring to him as Gyppo. Or Gypsy, Phil. It's not, it's not the abbreviation that's the problem.
If he has a thorn in his paw, it must be from when you took him for a walk yesterday.
Emma
What do you mean, "You're in charge?" You are not in fucking charge, you doughnut!
Of course you're gonna keep me informed, I want the full crunch on all the feeds, as usual. Everything below the equator.
Take him to the dog hospital. (Peter's wife thinks he's being sarcastic.) No, I'm not being sarcastic! There is one!
Emma
Try and keep an eye on things, all right?
The number will be in the folder. The folder. What? (Peter sighs as he realizes he has lost the connection.)
(Now, all 3 members of Team Mannion are off their cell phones.)
Where are you taking us, Stewart? This Mind Kampf is in the middle of nowhere.
Thought Camp, Peter, and isolation is the mother of renewal. We shall retreat to go forwards.
Emma
Terrible signal! Phil sounded like he was phoning in a report on an African coup.
Why's he even gone in today?
I put him on Tickel oversight.
Well, cutting the guy ropes on his tent is hardly the Siege of Troy.
Emma
Bailiffs thought it would be easier today, quicker or quieter.
Yeah, but I want Phil sealed off, right? He makes no statement today, not even off the record.
He wanted to feel useful.
Then he should sell his organs.
OK people, I'd like to start this session with a question: when is a party not a party?
(quiet laughter)
Emma (quietly, annoyed): Peter!
A party is not a party when it is plural. (brings up a slide of a woman on her phone in a crowd) There she is, the party, singular: she thinks like you, she votes like you, she is not you, and yet of course, she is you.
Peter (to himself, sighing): I feel like I've joined the Scientologists.
Some of these people want a federal Britain, others don't. And as long as we continue to do nothing, we can call that "consensus."
(to Emma) Why am I the only senior minister here? Is JB punishing me?
Emma
Look, Mary Drake's here, Home Office.
(Peter and Emma nod hello to Mary.)
Emma
(to Peter) And yes, JB is punishing you.
OK, let's McIntyre this: stand up. Let's find out, in fact, chairs to the side, please.
Great, vague prancing about.
MDMary Drake
Isn't that one of the fundamental principles of democracy?
(to Peter) Oh, I'm sorry, Peter, you want to share your thoughts?
Hmm? No, we just hoped we were going to do some dancing, er, Stewart. What, Merce Cunningham, something like that?
Okay, maybe later you can share it with us. But first of all, let me share something with you. How about this, Silicon Playgrounds, yeah? What caused this slow-motion pile up? Shall we sit down and chew over "hash-tag epic fail?" Or shall we try and get some solutions on their feet? That's it, just put it at the side, Peter.
(Meanwhile, at Thought Camp, Peter is playing a "mind game." He has a Post-It note stuck to his head with a political issue written on it, and he has to guess what it is. He needs Mary Drake's help.)
Would I be comfortable or uncomfortable...
Yes or no questions only, please, Peter.
Would I be uncomfortable talking to Andrew Marr about this concept on the television?
You're out of questions, Peter.
(Peter finally takes the Post-It note off his head -- and then gets REALLY upset.)
Oh, for fuck's sake! Inclusivity's practically the same as Diversity!
I could be at home watching the snooker with a bottle of unpronounceable scotch. Can I sit down now? (Peter sits down) I'm sitting down, I don't care.
Actually, we can all sit down now. Thanks, Peter. Um, so take a chair 'cause Emma's going to co-steer module four with me. We're gonna do a kind of Top Trumps stats check on the PM's future enemies, yeah? Strengths, weaknesses, blocking moves and take-downs. Em.
Emma
Great. Thank you, Stewart.
(to Emma) You've turned into the wrong Mitford sister.
(Peter, Emma and Stewart are wondering why they have been called away from the Thought Camp.)
Emma
It's probably just Phil, he'll have run out of colouring books or something.
Anything to get out of Stewart's think sphincter.
(to the hotel receptionist) Hello, receptionist. Could I have my phone, please?
RReceptionist
Um, your name, sir?
Peter Mannion. Mine's the old Nokia. Yeah, thank you.
Look, mine's the one with Stewart written on it.
(Nobody can get a good reception on the phones...)
I can't get any reception.
RReceptionist
No, you won't round here.
RReceptionist
"No reception at reception," we always say. The best spot, sounds stupid, is the children's play area, top of the slide?
(Peter and Stewart are forced to run over to the playground to get a reception!)
God, I hate the country. (to Peter) Get higher, you idiot.
That's it, that's it, I've got something.
Download the intel, Peter. Come on, put it on speaker.
No, I've got loads of messages from my wife and from Phil.
(Peter's listening to the messages on his cell phone.)
She's taking the dog to the hospital...
She's had a long wait...the wound in his paw's gone septic.
Oh please, Peter, move on.
Okay, it's my turn on that signal, Peter, get down.
Wait, I'm listening to the message! I'm listening to the fucking message! Don't --
I need to get this signal!
(Peter still doesn't want to slide down the slide.)
(Peter slides down the slide.)
I've got it! I've got it!
(Emma's come over to the playground.)
Emma
Playtime's over. Tickle's dead, okay? Number 10's gone off the hook mental. Stewart, take my phone to call the PM. (Emma gives Stewart her cell phone.)
Emma
(to Peter) Right, Phil's meeting us, he's going to bring a shirt, suit and tie. You are not going to arrive looking like the manager of an organic wine bar. (to both Peter and Stewart) Right. Come on, come on, come on! Movement!
(In the car back to DoSAC HQ from Thought Camp, Phil hands Peter a rainbow tie.)
What's that? I'm supposed to be commenting on a suicide, not a fucking camel race!
I thought it would balance out the bad news. You know, yin-yang. Jon Snow does it.
Stewart (on his phone): I want Tickle's movements over the last 24 hours, and I want his complete mental health records since he first sat on a potty.
Do you think you might need one or two computers for that, Stewart?
Emma
(on her phone) Yeah, okay, well, we're going to try and dredge up some firefighting strategy. Yeah, yeah. Absolutely. I'll top-load you as soon as we arrive. Yeah, thanks, okay. All right, bye.
(Peter is struggling to put his suit jacket on with his seatbelt on.)
Can I, can I take the seatbelt off?
Emma
(to Peter) No, Peter. (Emma then sees Stewart tapping his head nervously.) Stewart, what are you doing?
It-It helps with the car sickness.
This is great, isn't it, Stewart? A conference on crisis management that's been scuppered by an actual fucking crisis.
We don't even know why he killed himself yet. I mean, suicide, it's pathetic! At least take some of your enemies with you, that's a noble death.
Emma
This is going completely nuts, so many questions being asked!
Yes, starting with "Why did Phil bring a tie from the '90s?"
Yeah, don't panic, I brought an alternative. (shows Peter a black tie)
But that's too far the other way!
It makes him look guilty.
How can he be guilty? He's got the perfect alibi, he was at boot camp.
Emma
Brilliant, let's release that, hey? 'There's no actual blood on his hands and he remembered to wipe the fingerprints off the knife!'
Phil (showing Peter his tie): Look, you can wear my tie, what about mine?
(to Phil) God, it amazes me you ever found your way out of your mother's womb!
The Thick Of It · 395 quotes
