(In the opening scene of this episode, Ollie Reeder and his girlfriend, Emma Messenger, are walking down the street together in the morning. Ollie and Emma are on opposite sides of the British political spectrum. Nevertheless, the two of them are enjoying some good-natured banter talking about their party leaders.)
I'm extremely impressed. I'm highly impressed that you're going to see the leader of your party.
EMEmma Messenger
Good. You should be impressed.
Although, ultimately, the leader of your party is just a man, really, isn't he? He's just a guy.
Ah, now that's a good point, actually, because yours on the other hand is...
...the leader of the country also. What I'm saying is if we were playing Top Trumps, which we kind of are...
Oh, cor, we absolutely are, Ollie.
Right. So it's Ben Swain Day today, is it?
Yes. A Nutter in our midst. A junior minister for me to push around, you know. That's nice, isn't it? A bit more power for me.
You are an extremely powerful man, Ollie.
Very powerful, very attractive sexually, due to all this power.
(As Ollie and Emma get to Government Headquarters, they are met up with Malcolm and Jamie.)
Hey, dickhead! Happy New Queer!
I'm really sorry, but I – don't be so offensive. I do apologise for my friend's behaviour. Did you have a nice Poof-mas?
What are you two, um, doing round Richmond Terrace then?
Oh, we're slumming it. Just going to see Julius, the big baldy ballbag. (to Emma) You must be, you, what is it? Gemma? Gemma?
(to Ollie) What are you doing down here?
I'm babysitting Ben Swain for the day.
Could you water my spider plants in my office as well? (to Emma) He's very good with the watering can. Very very bright lad. Homemaker.
(And with that, Ollie and Emma share a rather awkward goodbye -- WITH NO KISS!)
Yeah, see you later. (Ollie rushes inside to catch up with Jamie and Malcolm.)
(Malcolm and Jamie are busting Ollie's chops about his relationship with Emma.)
(to Ollie) So, the girlfriend, she-she doesn't mind the whole, uh, you being gay thing?
(to Ollie) Did you take her home for Christmas?
No. God, no. I couldn't do that.
Oh no, you couldn't do that, 'cause she wouldn't fit in. 'Cause you're that right dyed-in-the-wool working class, aren't you? She's probably allergic to pit ponies.
(In this scene, Peter Mannion, the Leader of the Opposition, is having a chat with his adviser, Phil Smith. As they're entering Opposition Headquarters, Peter and Phil are discussing Emma's relationship with Ollie...and Phil just happens to be Emma's roommate.)
Are they actually sleeping together?
Do you think she's on top or, what-what do you hear?
Well, I hear her say, "How do you like it?" And he'll say, "I've got to page Tucker."
Oh, God. (beat) Have I shaved properly? It's just we're-we're having the bathroom done and I was in the kitchen this morning using the kettle as a mirror.
No, you're very smooth. So it's a chrome kettle, then?
You've been watching CSI again, haven't you?
(As Peter and Phil are walking up the stairs, they are joined by Emma, who is also Peter's advisor.)
(to Emma) Oh, hello. How was sleeping with the enemy?
(sarcastically) Oh, hilarious. I forgot how funny you were.
(The three of them are nearing the office...)
(to Emma) What time are you seeing Stewart?
It'll be in about half an hour. What about you?
(groaning) Oh, I'll be last in. He's punishing me for standing against JB in the leadership contest by putting me in the Ryanair queue.
Come on, he got you that terrific photo op with the, uh, wind turbine thing on your house, remember?
Yes, and it cost me 12 grand. And I have to pay for the electricity bill to keep the bugger turning because, of course, there's no wind in the valley, I have to plug it in. But my next door neighbor has an England flag that just hangs there limply while my turbine mysteriously whizzes around.
Could turn the turbine round so it blows his flag.
(Peter, Emma and Phil finally sit down.)
Right. What's up first, then, Peter?
While we're here, we could bat a few ideas around.
He wants something fluffy for the speech, does he? Environment? Tax breaks for aromatherapists? SatNav for asylum seekers?
Well, I was thinking about a departmental blog.
(groaning again) Oh, God. Really?
I could actually do the..the writing bit of it, because you wouldn't have time.
Well, I mean, I might as well, I've knack all else to do. (Peter turns to Phil) Though, um...to be honest, you-you sort it out.
I thought we could have like a guest book so that, kind of, you know, readers can kind of leave their comments.
(to Emma) Are you sure? Have you ever Googled your own name? It's like opening a door to a room where everyone tells you how shit you are.
(Malcolm, Jamie and Ollie are walking up the stairs to the offices at Government HQ, discussing Ben Swain.)
(to Ollie) Where's My Little Phony? Ben Swain. What's his Newsnight angle gonna be, then?
Ben? Ben is going on Newsnight?
(chuckling) Oh, you're a right little West Winger, you, aren't you? They're cutting you out of the loop already?
Well, I'll check who the presenter is and obviously...
The presenter is Newsbot 3.2. He's a nobody. He's a fucking scorch mark.
Paxo's in Kenya fly-fishing with Stephen Fry or whatever the fuck it is he does. Kirsty is sobering up in Kilmarnock with her gran, so she's out of the picture.
Well, I'll just check the lines with Pat Morrissey, then. And then we'll...
Yeah. Pat and, uh, Communications have asked that everything be double-ticked through her from now. (to Malcolm) I mean, you get a tick as well. Obviously.
(sarcastically) Oh well, well obviously! Yes, that's-that's very very nice and that's very fucking big of them! I get a tick!
So I mean, it's, it's two ticks for a, uh, a green light, basically, that's the system.
(beside himself) Pat Morrissey. Communications is full of Nutters these days.
Soon as the PM said he'd be gone inside a year, the Nutters start popping up like mela-fucking-noma.
(to Ollie) See you later. See you in a tick.
(to Ollie) What about you? You're not a Nutter, are you?
I-I'm not a Nutter, Jamie. I'm...I'm a nipper.
(Ollie then bumps into Terri.)
Hi, Ollie, Happy New Year!
Yeah, I know, yeah. Six pairs of socks, three Harry Potter omnibuses. All that "I thought you were taking the giblets out. Don't give Nan any more Baileys. She's only got the one pad with her." (Ollie follows Terri into an office.) Every bloody year.
Yeah, well, you know, just me and Mum in the care home.
Right. Jesus...So, eh, Ben on Newsnight?
Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?
Yeah, yeah. Oh, God, thank God you didn't know, either. I thought it was just me.
Oh no no no. I did know about that, actually.
Well, why did you say it like that, then? "Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?"
You're just out of the loop. I'm very well wired into the Tommists.
(laughing) Nobody calls them Tommists. They're Nutters, Terri. Nobody calls them Tommists.
(dead serious) I don't like that word. My sister works in mental health.
(Ben Swain, the Junior Minister that Ollie is "babysitting," arrives at the office.)
Benjamin! Happy New Year!
Ben! Big Ben, Ben-Benji, Beno, Benj.
Happy New Year to you as well.
(to Ben) These are the briefing notes.
Ah, splendid. I'll file these directly in the shredder. Thank you, Glenn.
(Ben, Glenn and Ollie enter an office.)
(to Ben) If you just, uh, stick to what's in there, you'll be all right. Just remember, you're the night watchman, all right?
Yes, well, I like to think of myself as more, perhaps, I don't know, an elected MP than a night watchman, Glenn. But thank you very much for everything, I'll be fine without you holding my hand. You enjoy your weekend cottaging in Wales or whatever it is you're up to.
(Ollie picks up a copy of Ben's upcoming book, which is called, "It's the Everything, Stupid: How to Get Ahead in Modern Politics.")
(impressed) This is looking good. When is it coming out?
End of the, end of the week. You'll be able to make the launch party?
And have you written it yourself or was it ghosted by, uh...
By Victoria Beckham? No, everything in there is entirely-entirely written by me, I think you'll find. Yes.
There you go, you have hidden talents.
Anyone heard from "The Hughster?"
Yes, he's suffering from jet lag.
(to Ben) Have you ever been to Australia?
No. Why would I want to go there? Full of people in khaki, squinting. Just the world's largest collection of poisonous things.
Oh, yeah. God, yeah. If you want to stick around with poisonous snakes, you might as well stay here.
(Awkward silence occurs after Ollie's stupid attempt at a joke.)
(jokingly) Throw a blanket on me, I'm on fire.
(Before Glenn heads off to Wales, he gives Ollie some last-minute instructions for babysitting Ben.)
Listen, Ollie. We may be babysitting a Nutter. He may look like a Womble, but he's got Nutter eyes and Nutter ears. So, keep an eye on him.
All right, the minute any chicken blood turns up on the paperwork, I'll be straight on to you, don't worry.
Right, I'm off to Wales and the late 1950s.
(Terri blows Glenn a friendly kiss goodbye.)
(As Peter is waiting to meet with Stewart -- still -- he has a conversation with Phil about his upcoming holiday.)
(coughing) Oh, I can't get rid of this.
I bet you're looking forward to your holiday.
Well, yeah. I mean, obviously, I'm not flying abroad anywhere, because...
No, bathroom. I'm supervising the doing up of my bathroom.
(looking at two lamps) What is that?
He's discovered IKEA, hasn't he?
It's all for show. They want to look modern, like they appeal to the kind of people who go to IKEA.
I'm modern! I say 'black' instead of 'coloured', I think women are a good thing, I have no problem with gays. Most of them are very well turned out, especially the men.
Why is it, this last year, I'm being made to feel as if I'm always two steps behind, like I can't program the video or convert everything back to old money? Because that's not me!
(confused) You've still got a video?
(And now, it's time to meet Stewart Pearson, the Director of Communications for the Opposition. Stewart and Emma are sharing a laugh as she's leaving his office. Now, Stewart is ready to see Peter.)
(smiling) Ah, Peter. Dr. Stewart will see you now, hey? I could hear you coughing in there. Is that your contribution to the meeting?
(to Peter) You all right?
Yes, okay. You know, it's just hanging around.
Yeah, I'm sorry to keep you hanging about, but you know, right now all the...all the big priority stuff is the big party stuff.
I was talking about the cold hanging around.
Oh, right. (Stewart heads back into his office.) Thanks very much, Em.
(As Peter goes into Stewart's office for a chat, Phil asks Emma about her meeting.)
Playing with the big boys?
Yeah. Now I'm back with the little boys, huh?
(Stewart and Peter start their chat.)
(nodding) Fine, I'm-I'm fine.
Good, superb, because the reason I've asked you in -- I mean, firstly, just to say, "Hi, how are you?"...
Then, this photo call this afternoon, "100 Days of the New Leader." We've got you a Paul Smith suit. I did think about Vivienne Westwood or...Well, it was just too expensive. And, oh, and a Ted Baker... (Stewart pulls out a pinkish-looking shirt with stripes on it.) Ted Baker shirt, right? No tie, we're thinking open-necked look might be good.
But I'm already wearing a suit and, controversially, a tie.
Yeah, absolutely, sure. But frankly, you know, it all looks a bit '80s, you know? Robert Palmer, Sink the Belgrano, that kind of vibe. We think this is better, it's modern, it's sharp, it's slimming. Try it on.
(in amused disbelief) Is this a joke?
(Moments later, Stewart makes Peter change into a different suit and shirt.)
Just wondering whether you're fully conversant with the new line, whether you're really up to speed?
Well, I don't know. Am I? Because, uh, I get people stopping me in the streets and saying, 'Are you still for locking up yobbos?', and I say, 'Yeah, of course we are.' And then I think, 'Well, are we?' Because maybe I missed a memo from you. Maybe I should understand yobbos now, or not even call them yobbos, call them 'young men with issues around stabbing.' (awkward silence) No tie, you say?
Quite a nice suit, actually.
So, we were thinking...Shirt outside the trousers.
Outside? Not tuck my shirt in?
I always tuck my shirt in, it's part of getting dressed. What, should I not do my flies up either? Let the old chap flop out. Is that modern enough for you?
Just try it, Peter. Not the cock out, but just the shirt thing.
(untucking his shirt) I'm from a generation of men, Stewart, who tuck their shirts in. I've done it since I was a boy, I was told off for not doing it.
Oh God, no, you were right. Sorry, no, tuck it in. You look like you've been startled by a fire alarm.
(Malcolm and Jamie enter Ben's office. Time to discuss Ben's upcoming appearance as Jeremy Paxman's guest on Newsnight.)
(to 2 office workers) Off you two fuck.
(The 2 workers leave Ben's office.)
Right, Ben, heard the big news about Paxo.
What was it you did in your gap year again?
Um, Interrailing, month on a kibbutz –
Did you ever travel, like, 100 miles per hour, head-first through a tunnel full of pig shit? Because that's what's gonna happen to you tonight with Paxman, unless, unless...you listen to us.
He will eat you up, sick you out and grout his fucking wet room with you.
Yeah, I have been interviewed on television before, thank you very much.
Yeah? Do you know what they call him? Easy George.
This is Paxo. What are you gonna do when he pulls that big rubbery horse-face of mock-incredulity at you?
Yes, look, we know the cheat codes for Paxman now, don't we? That old aggressive style of his is just old school. All you need to do, you play the honest, the Honest Joe just trying to humbly get your point across and...
(pulling up a chair) Let's see you do your stuff, Mr. Television, huh?
(Jamie is pretending to be Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight, asking Ben questions.)
(As Paxo) Immigration is in disarray. What are you going to do about it?
Well, first of all, I would have to take issue with your contention that immigration is in...
Oh, answer the question, you fat fuck!
(Phil and Emma are home in their flat -- discussing Ollie.)
Why the fuck do you have to keep inviting him round here?
Oh, are you a bit jealous?
Of the man from the Mr Muscle adverts? No, I just think it's just unreasonable that I have to watch what I'm gonna say in my own flat; I mean, you could at least give me warning if he's coming round or something.
I tell you what, I'll put a sex grid on the fridge.
So that you can have dates and stuff: I'll put an A4 piece of paper for me up, and maybe you could have half a post-it note? You could share it with Affers, maybe.
Yeah. Have to write really small, though, I've slept with three women in –
(returning from the toilet) Your life?
(Ollie laughs)
(Ollie, Emma, and Phil are watching Ben Swain's Newsnight interview together. Malcolm, who is also watching from his office, is on the phone to Jamie, who is watching Ben from inside the studio.)
What's he doing with his eyes?
Oh my God. He's got a nervous blink.
That's a mega blink! It's not just a blink.
He looks like what happens when you punch a cow. (impersonates a cow mooing in pain)
Oh my God, this is like watching a lion rape a sheep, but in a bad way.
The cameramen are laughing.
He spelled "just" with four Js!
He's like a chicken, he's like an enormous chicken!
It's just one word he's been saying, which is basically (gibberish).
Well, what about the coalface?
Pull it, puncture his lifebelt. Pull it, give him the signal. If he shits, I'll give you 500 quid.
(After Ben Swain's interview)
Well he certainly looked like a Nutter.
He looked like that little guy on the green that shouts 'You're an Arab' at everyone.
It's a tough day tomorrow, picking bits of Ben out of Malcolm's car.
He didn't mention the coalface idea.
How is my blog? My own personal blog, personally written by me?
(they all go to the computer)
Yesterday you liked the leader's speech, it was bold and courageous and sent out the right signals, and you had a fruit lunch.
Oh, I write very well. What's the feedback like?
Pretty good. Let's see on this page here. Here we go.
"I don't trust you, you Cypriot crook."
Cypriot? This is the shit room. You've opened the shit room door.
Oh come on, that's not too bad.
"How are the maintenance payments going on your bastard?" Christ, that was twelve years ago!
That's actually I think the same one.
This is the trouble with the public, they're fucking horrible.
Peter, you really – you can't say the public are fucking horrible.
Yes I can, I've met them. "You've always got such a pained expression. Do you take it up the chutney?" Really? I mean, for God's sake.
See this: I still don't understand why people do this 'h8' thing. If you're going to leave a message, I mean, at least spell it correctly.
What the fuck was that all about? You know, nicking the other lot's ideas?
You jumped straight on the bandwagon, you hypocrite.
You started it. You know, at least I'm not nicking my boyfriend's ideas.
You sanctimonious twat! Jesus, you're not my dad, Phil, even if you do dress like him.
(knocking from behind glass) What's going on?
Swain was supposed to flag up the coalface idea last night but he didn't. So Emma nicked it.
(to Emma) Oh, fuck-tastic. Not only was it a shit idea to ruin my holiday, it was a shit idea you stole from the government to ruin my holiday. Good work.
(to Phil) Thanks a lot, Supergrass.
Malcolm (seeing Ben Swain arrive): Oh, here he is. Dead man walking.
(impersonating Ben) 'I, I, I wish you wouldn't keep saying that, I, I, I –' (normal voice) What's your favourite band, blink-182?
That's not a proper cigar: a proper cigar is those big Cuban whoppers, that's just a jumped-up fag.
Ollie (entering): Hi.
Do you fancy a cigar? I promise I won't tell any of the other prefects.
Hand rolled on the thigh of a Cuban virgin with big tits and four kids.
Yeah, thanks. Um, Malcolm, I just wondered if I could have a quick word, actually. The opposition have got the Week at the Coalface idea. They're gonna do it.
Peter Mannion, I don't know when.
How the fuck did they get that? Your fucking girlfriend, Jesus Christ!
You should have dumped that mad bitch ages ago.
Well I would've done! She is mad, she's a mental woman! But you two kept telling me to go out with her and stay going out with her, just in case I found anything out!
Oh, and what did you find out? That you've been leaking intelligence to them? You're the fucking shittest James Bond ever. You're... you're David fucking Niven!
Get him properly fucking screen-tested. I'm sorry mate, but you need a lot of powder, I've never seen anybody look so fucking ugly with just one head.
Yeah. No, I lost my islands of safety, didn't I, which is –
And who was it that did your media training? Myra Hindley? I mean, it was terrible, all this – hands were all over the place. You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra! It was like watching John Leslie at work!
Yes, I know all of that, and it just kind of fell away. God, it was like one of those dreams when you're wandering around Covent Garden or something in just your vest and everyone's staring at you.
I think it was much worse than that, I mean, how many people see you in Covent Garden, a few thousand? Your meltdown was witnessed by 1.2 million people. That's more people than saw Al Jolson in his entire career. And that's Al fucking Jolson!
You take the piss out of Jolson again, and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano-sheath, and push it up your cock! And then I'll plug some speakers up your arse, and put it onto shuffle with my fucking fist! And every time I hear something that I don't like, which will be every time that something comes on, I will skip to the next track (to Ben) by crushing your balls!
(to Phil) Oh, sorry! Do you know what, maybe you should dump Peter and go out with Ollie.
Well, 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?
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.
Go and read your blog, nerd boy! I'm going. This is the point where I go.
Wow. That point actually exists. Incredible.
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!
