(A few moments ago, Hugh said that he does not want to close down schools for kids with special needs. He is now in his office discussing the Special Needs Bill with Glenn.)
Glenn, the Special Needs Bill. With your, you know, particular interest, I can't do this.
You know my views, you know. Inclusion is an illusion. It doesn't work.
But you-you don't mind if I -- if I go ahead with it?
Of course not. You know, look...you're only following orders.
Oh, thanks. So you won't make me feel bad except by comparing me to a concentration camp guard?
Now, tomorrow. Select Committee, that's Ballantine, isn't it?
(But before Hugh and Glenn can continue discussing the Special Needs Bill, Ollie barges in and interrupts.)
(to Hugh and Glenn) Sorry, I'm sorry to interrupt. Who wants to go and watch Bollockvision?
Mr. Malcolm Tucker, turning it all the way up to eleven, down in the lobby. Come and have a look.
(They all go out onto the balcony. On the other side of the atrium, on their floor, Malcolm is shouting at another Minister.)
Oh, poor Keith. Malcolm must fucking love this place: Four ministers in one building. It's his dream, a one-stop bollock-shop.
Trouble is, we're gonna be getting some of that in about an hour.
Yeah. I don't know which is worse, watching him slowly rumble towards you like prostate cancer, or him appearing suddenly out of nowhere like a severe stroke.
(Terri, whose father died after a stroke, turns towards Hugh.)
Oh. How's your sister coping?
(The Department of Social Affairs has been renamed "The Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship" -- DoSAC for short.)
So, Hugh, this -- this new word, 'Citizenship.' Did the PM actually outline what it entails?
Well, to be honest, I think he was making the reshuffle up as he-as he went along, and I think we were very lucky that 'Citizenship' was the first word that sprang to mind. Otherwise we could be the Department for Social Affairs and Woodland Folk.
See, the problem is, though, Hugh, that there's been a bit of a rush with you not in place. Uh, you know, every department trying to unload all the stuff that they didn't want. But it's been like somebody driving a lorry down Whitehall, shouting "Bring out your shit." And they have and it's ended up at our door.
Citizenship basically involves, uh, cutting pensions to the Ghurkhas, rejigging the protocols for a rabies outbreak, some crap from Health about long-term care for the elderly that neither they nor we have any real idea about.
And what to do with the Isle of Man.
(annoyed) Just what I fucking need. Five new ways to lose my job.
(Hugh then starts eyeing a plant that he's just noticed is right next to his desk.)
Where did that come from?
It's far too big. Why-why did he send it?
Uh, office warming present.
So why did he send us a present?
Has Security checked this?
What for? Tiny little terrorists?
(annoyed) It's a plant! Yes?!
(moving on) Okay, so...citizenshit. What we need to do is knock together some nice, touchy-feely, fondley, sneaky, hand-in-the-bra sort of policies.
New bicycles for special constables, that sort of thing?
Making special needs kids clean up graffiti?
(displeased) Yeah, that's just very mean.
Well, yes. Not, of course, as mean as making them spell "graffiti." That genuinely is very mean.
(to Hugh, calmly but not happily) I'll go and have a word with Malcolm.
(After Glenn leaves the office, Hugh tries to reprimand Ollie for making a joke about special needs kids.)
You just took a shit with your clothes on, Ollie.
Glenn's boy, Peter. He went to a special needs school.
God, you're such a prick, Ollie.
There's more to life, you know, than drinks parties at the Foreign Office and having Nick Robinson's mobile number on your fucking BlackBerry!
Yes. All right, all right, fine. Sorry, Hugh. I feel for the guy. I had a girlfriend with special needs once, so I know. (smiles smugly) Luckily, I was able to fulfill them.
(Malcolm joins Glenn and Hugh in the office.)
So did you enjoy the show?
(to Malcolm, jokingly) You were magnificent, darling.
(to Malcolm) Yeah, should I phone Keith so that I can get his team to watch you bollock me now?
(to Hugh) No no no no. Have I got my bollocking face on?
No. This is my bollocking face?
(Malcolm shows Hugh his infamous "bollocking stare.")
Oh, crikey, yes. Thanks for the pot plant, by the way.
As an office warming present.
Christ, she's a great P.A., isn't she, Sam?
She always remembers the little people. (looking at the plant) Look at the size of that. Fuck, you could fucking crucify somebody on that. (back to Glenn and Hugh) So what do you think of the new building, eh?
Yeah, I can't wait to move upstairs, actually, because I don't really like the glass walls on-on, on this floor. I just feel a bit exposed.
Like a whore in a Reeperbahn window.
(on the phone, calling out to Glenn) Glenn, it's Ollie. He wants you to go through and clarify the Citizenship brief.
(to Terri) How much, love?
(to Glenn) I'll catch you later.
(to Hugh, smiling) I like your tan, by the way.
Have you declared it? Staying at the villa of an influential friend?
I-I haven't got any influential friends, Malcolm. You are my only influential friend.
Oh yeah. And I'm not really your friend.
You're not really my friend.
So this, uh, Super Schools Bill...
You don't think it's so super, do you?
(Malcolm gives Hugh the "bollocking stare." Again.)
That's your bollocking face.
(Malcolm and Hugh are now discussing -- or is it arguing over? -- the Super Schools Bill.)
You 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...
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!
Yeah, but I've got an expert who will deny that.
And SEN parents want the special schools kept open.
Yeah, well, my-my expert would totally oppose that.
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?
(And so, on Malcolm's say-so, Hugh and Glenn are now meeting with Mr. Roy Smedley, a special needs children expert, to discuss the inclusion of special needs kids in mainstream schools.)
But surely, Mr. Smedley, inclusion has been shown to fail the most vulnerable SEN children.
RSRoy Smedley
When inclusion's done badly, yes. Yes, uh, you're gonna get bad results. I mean, that's a given.
(wearily) Inclusion is an illusion.
Mark-Mark Ryan from the LSE was saying that when the special schools do get it right, that the parents of SEN children absolutely fucking flock to...
RSRoy Smedley
You spoke to Mark Ryan?
Yeah, well, some expert advice, so...
RSRoy Smedley
(mockingly) OK. Expert advice from Mark Ryan?
Yeah. You have a problem with Mark Ryan?
RSRoy Smedley
In educational circles, he's-he's a bit of a joke. That's another given.
(Suddenly, Hugh's computer beeps with an e-mail alert.)
(responding to the alert) Ah, sorry. It's just that I'm expecting, uh, something quite important.
Is our-Is our e-mail up and running?
No. No, no, this is my hotmail.
(to Roy Smedley) Can you-Sorry, can you excuse me just, um...
(Roy doesn't mind Hugh being a moment. BUT...Hugh sneaks over to Terri's desk computer since she's not at her desk. Hugh then sends an e-mail to Glenn...or at least who he thinks is HIS pal, Glenn Cullen. The e-mail says "Christ Alive! What a cunt !!!" While Hugh does this despicable thing, Roy continues talking to Glenn.)
RSRoy Smedley
(to Glenn) We live in an inclusive society, am I right? I mean, we-we all rub shoulders together, Mr. Cullen?
RSRoy Smedley
So let's not let the Mark Ryans of this world create...
RSRoy Smedley
...apartheid for children. The alternative is to isolate these kids in ghetto schools.
The minister won't be a moment.
(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.
(spotting them from the ground floor) HEY! GET BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!
(Hugh has privately admitted to Terri that he sent the sweary email from her account.)
Now Hugh, are you going to do the right thing, are you going to admit to this publicly?
Are you – What? No! Are you mad? I can't do that, that mustn't happen! You've got – I need you, to –
I think it was Derrida who said there is no such thing as actual empirical truth, but only –
Yeah, I'll tell you what Derrida said, he said, 'Go fuck your face, Abbot!'
(Terri tries to storm out of the door, but only belatedly notices the exit switch)
You need to mind your language, it just will keep getting you into trouble.
(finally opening the door) I can't even get out the fucking room! (storms out)
(Hugh and Glenn return from their Education Select Committee appearance.)
I lied to the Select Committee. I lied! Is Tucker in the building?
It's just what they're calling him now, 'cause he can stand in the middle of the atrium and just shout at all the departments.
Well I don't want to see him, not at the moment, I can't take one of his scenes from The Exorcist just now.
Look, I don't think Ballentine's on to anything.
Oh no? No? Well, why did she keep asking, 'Just one expert? Only one? Not two experts? Less than three but not two?' The fucking bitch.
It's her style, look, she's just trying to throw you off balance like a sumo wrestler.
Well it worked: there I was on the floor in a big fucking nappy.
(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.
