(And then, Phil's cell phone rings again -- and once again, Stewart's on the other line.)
(answering his cell phone) Hi, Stewart. He's great, isn't he?
"Boo to nanny?" Phil, no one watches Jools Holland, yeah? We need to be appealing to One Show man and Holby City woman.
Just shut up, Emma. The men are talking?
Thank God! Put her on, Phil.
(Emma gets on the cell phone to talk to Stewart.)
This is the brief. Got a pen?
Yeah, hang on. (to Phil) Have you got a pen?
Yeah, you're not having it.
(to Emma) Do you need a pen?
Uh, I do, thanks. (to Stewart) Sorry, Stewart, hang on.
Why don't you have one just sellotaped to your chin, Emma? Write this down! Write on his shirt! Just write it down!
(Phil tries to take the pen from Emma, but Emma's not messing around.)
(to Emma) Are you listening to Daddy?
I want you to pull some info, right? On city bonuses, tax evasion, non-doms. Let's name and shame some fat cats! I want to hear some fact-enforced noise!
(Ollie arrives at the BBC Building.)
For getting me in on my special night off. Emma was furious when I said I was coming in here, she was moaning, she was screaming, and then I said I was coming in here. Do you see what I did?
(smiling mockingly) I see.
It was a joke about my sexual prowess.
(But then, Ollie sees Emma.)
What the fuck are you doing here?
Oh, I'm having an affair with Richard Bacon. I'm incredibly aroused by men with meat in their surname.
You. You told me...I cooked a lovely meal...
Ordered. And it wasn't lovely.
What the fuck's going on?
(Emma's cell phone rings.)
Sorry, I've got to take this. I'll talk to you later.
(to Ollie) So! She DID come! She came into work! Do you see what I did there?
(Nicola is accusing Peter and his party of blocking initiatives that would allow bonuses to the so-called "fat cats.")
...when you yourself where actually in cabinet. We have tried repeatedly to initiate legislation which will outlaw these bonuses. Now, your party has persistently blocked those attempts.
I think it's an interesting point. What do you say, Peter Mannion, to the accusation that these huge bonuses and the offense that they cause are the fault of your party?
I think that's a completely fatuous argument when Nicola's party has been in government for what seems like about a century, and bonuses under their watch have increased...What? Five fold? Oh, dear! Come on, Nicola. Pull your finger out.
Okay, fine. So you personally would like to see more done to hit the fat cats?
(to Peter) Is that what you're saying?
(stammering) Well, yes-yes. I...I would. If the person receiving the bonus hasn't performed well...
Can I, can I simplify that? Let me simplify this. Would you outlaw bonuses?
(still stuttering) In the case of them being undeserved, yes...
Which the bulk of them are, so basically you're saying the bulk of your friends in the city are disgusting.
(confused) No, no, no. Yes, yes, but only if the bonuses they receive are unfair.
I think, well, I think we've got -- It's alright. I think we've got your point. Uh, thank you. Let's move on.
(Phil enters the green room.)
Right, if you speak to me, I will pour hot coffee on your balls.
Hey, guy, I don't want to fight. I want to clear the air, actually. We're like those two little old people in the weathercock: you come out, I'm in there, and we're swapping round.
You're Mr. Sunshine, are you?
You're a little wooden twat, in a little wooden house.
Come on, there's no need – we can be friends! I'm thinking two enemies, they come together when they realise it is no more. Aragorn and Boromir! Me: Aragorn, the true king. You: Boromir. Your horn is broken, and will be blown no more.
This inability to talk without using Lord of the Rings metaphors is one of the very many reasons that we could never be friends.
Okay. By the way, you'll be getting a bill. That's OK, though, I presume you're expecting that.
(sighing) Okay, I'll bite. Why will I be getting a bill, Phil?
Ah, let me see, partial rent, electricity, gas, internet use, toilet paper...Kept a note every time you were round at the flat.
You're moving out? Oh, that's a shame. I'll miss doing that secret and bad thing I did with your roll-on deodorant.
I'm not moving out. I'm just guessing that seeing how Emma's dumped you, you won't be coming round much any more.
Oh, let me just savor this moment. Thank you, God. She hasn't told you, has she?
She's dumped you. She did it tonight.
No, no. She didn't do it tonight.
Let me get a little photo of this moment. Hey, new desktop picture here: Ollie being dumped!
(Ollie doesn't appreciate being told of this bit of news by Phil.)
Why would she tell you first, dickwad?
I've no idea, she told me to get out of the flat tonight so she could dump you. Anyway, in the words of Shakespears Sister, (sings in falsetto) 'You're History'! (Ollie throws his coffee at Phil's groin) Ah, f– It's a dark suit and it's only lukewarm, I still win!
(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.
(still in his office) YES!
That should be looked into, but...
...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'?
(Stewart is on his cell phone, telling Emma he's coming down to the BBC Studios.)
Right, Emma. Look, look, look, I'm just coming in. Okay? Yeah, look, I'll be 20 minutes, right? So see if you can get Peter to do something inoffensive for 20 minutes! Hard boil 4 eggs!
(Meanwhile, in the green room...)
(to Emma) You tell fucking Man at C&A that I'm dumped before I do, is that it?
(to Phil) What's he talking about?
(to Emma) I thought he knew.
(to Phil) Oh, you fucking twit!
Do you mind keeping it down? Some of us are trying to listen.
I can fill you in: Peter's tearing through her like a Viking at a nunnery.
If he's a Viking, he's King Cnut!
Yes, he's drowning in the party donations. You should listen!
(Phil and Emma are listening on the radio. Ollie's trying to get Emma's attention.)
(to Emma) You can't even fucking look at me!
We're trying to listen here now.
OEOllie & Emma
Shut the fuck up, Phil!
(And now, EVERYBODY'S arguing!)
(storming into the green room) OK, do you want to shut up? And if you lot don't keep this down, I'm gonna have you all ejected from the building! (points at Terri) You are the worst, my chair still smells of your perfume!
Excuse me! For the record, I have done nothing.
Yes, that will be your epitaph, Terri.
(Nicola and Glenn are celebrating just outside the green room.)
Great! Good! Yes! I'm cooking now.
I'm fucking Delia Smith! I'm cracking eggs, I'm pouring in baking powder, I'm using fucking vanilla extract. It's great!
(Peter is in the green room with Phil, trying to recover from his stumbles on 5 Live.)
That was not good. That was the opposite of good.
How do I counter? Have you heard of JFU?
I didn't actually hear that bit, so I don't know.
You couldn't hear? CHRIST! You're...(Chuckling, looking at Nicola and Glenn outside) Sorry, it's just...
(Peter is now very upset with Phil, to say the least.)
(to Phil) You're here to hear, Phil. Why do you think you're here? You're HERE to HEAR! You're not here for eye candy!
Look, it's not my fault. It was very noisy in here. Ollie and Emma were splitting up at the time, and I couldn't really focus...
Emma? Emma? Why is Emma here?
Stewart sent her down here.
(looking at Phil's trousers) Why have you got wet trousers?
Ollie threw coffee at me.
I'm sorry. I seemed to have wandered into some 1970s Ray Cooney farce. Is the vicar about to come around with Brian Rix and Robin Askwith?
Right, back in. Headphones on ears, arses on chairs.
(Meanwhile, Ollie and Emma are arguing in the hallway...and Terri's sitting just inches away from them.)
Ollie, 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.
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.
What do you mean I'm going to be...
You're not going to be better off...
(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.)
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.
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 –
– you torture horses, and you're in The Bangles, that's what I've been saying about you at work.
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.
He's just drying his...He's drying his trousers.
(Stewart's in quiet disbelief...)
(seeing Stewart enter the control room) How perfect. Who should walk in...
(to Janice) I'm Stewart Pearson, yeah? See the fat man that you're berating like he's a piñata? Well, I own him.
Peter Mannion, that's a fascinating development –
Peter (seeing Malcolm arrive): Oh! And as we speak, who should come rolling along the corridor but Malcolm Tucker, the man who was once referred to as the Gorbals Goebbels...
Oh, don't do a joke. Peter, don't do a...
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.
(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.
(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.
'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?
(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?
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!)
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...
(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.
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.
And this is fucking news!
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!
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.)
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?
– 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.
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?
(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.)
(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.
(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!
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.)
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...
