(This is the opening scene of this episode.)
Morning, Ollie. How's your head? Like a bat shat in it at all?
No, I am, if anything, Glenn, I am hung-under. First DoSAC party under the new regime, you lasted 'til, I'd say, seven?
Yeah, well, I do have a life, Ollie.
Yes, but only in the way that, you know, jellyfish or athlete's foot have a life. What was it last night, then? Candlelit annivorcery dinner for one?
(Terri enters the scene carrying a large plant.)
Hello. (Ollie's curious...) Terri, what actually are you up to? Are you still drunk?
No, I had to get in early anyway, because this BBC man's coming.
(Ollie notices that Terri's wearing trainers!)
Are you wearing trainers? You ARE wearing trainers!
(laughing) If Signal toothpaste made trainers, that's what they'd look like.
Well, I don't see there's any...
(pointing at Terri's trainers) This-This color for healthy breath...
(Nicola enters the scene, and she's...a little hungover.)
(Terri helps Nicola by taking her suitcase.)
Would you like me to take your coffee?
Oh, no. I'm clinging on to that for dear life, I tell you.
Well, it will dehydrate you.
Mojito Murray, they now call her. You know, they had to install speed bumps at the bar. She's like Gazza at Euro '96.
(Ollie mimics somebody getting drunk.)
I really love the division of labour in this place. I like the way the women do the heavy lifting and the men do the heavy sarcasm.
(to Nicola) Would you like some help with your makeup?
(The conversation shifts to Nicola's upcoming interview, regarding the launch of her Fourth Sector Initiative.)
So this interview, who's coming?
Okay. Who? Nick Robinson?
Not Nick. He's away with the PM on the World Tour. No, it's um, it's Gavin.
Who the hell is Gavin Boyes?
Well, he's up and coming.
I'm launching the Fourth Sector Initiative. It's the centerpiece of my political career. I don't want to do it with some fucking Newsround press packer.
(looking at his computer) It says here on Google that Gavin Boyes is the state wrestling champion for West Virginia.
(to Terri) The launch tonight, Terri, how many journos have we got coming?
We've got confirmed four.
NONicola, Ollie & Glenn
(in disbelief) FOUR?
This is not something that we are ashamed of! We're not launching a new leper colony!
Okay, no problem. I'm just gonna go down and collect Gavin and his boys...
(While Nicola is conducting an interview with a BBC reporter regarding Nicola's launch of her Fourth Sector Initiative, Glenn and Ollie are discussing the Prime Minister's world tour.)
So why is the PM doing this world tour thing? What's the point of that? I mean, he's not easy on the world stage, is he? He walks like his dick's made of glass, you know? Is it a Malc plan?
Could be? Or, you know, Steve Fleming's back, it could be him.
Well, if he's back, it really is the end, isn't it? What are you gonna do when the shit goes down, then?
Oh, plenty of options, Ollie.
You could be a Beefeater. Do you want to be a Beefeater?
Don't you worry about me, Ollie. I've got contacts.
What do you mean, "Don't worry about me"? Are you big in Japan or something?
(Glenn gives Ollie a wide, sly smile.)
What? What's that smile for? Do you need winding?
(And then, Glenn shares a BIG surprise with Ollie.)
I'm going to stand in the election.
(surprised indeed) Are you...Are you serious?
I should hear later today whether or not I've got enough support for the Ilford East long list.
Fucking hell. You on a massive poster. What's your slogan going to be? "He's old and sullen, vote for Cullen." How about that?
Actually...I'm pretty excited about this.
Sort of hard to take on board. It's like being told your dad's gay or something. (Glenn laughs while Ollie continues) I am strangely really proud of you.
(Malcolm has to restart the conversation with Nicola and Terri in Nicola's office.)
(to Terri) Terri, I fucking e-mailed you and I told you to move it to later, because I wanted to administer a preparatory fucking verbal cosh. Right?
And there it is. (Malcolm is looking at the e-mail on his cell phone.) It didn't fuck -- It didn't fucking send!
There you go. You just owe me an apology, that's all.
That wasn't an apology. That was a "pardon?" I'm sorry.
(to Malcolm) Why aren't you on the Tom tour, by the way?
Yeah, I heard Steve Fleming was on the tour. Hmm. Big beast.
Tiny fucking rodent, more like. He's part of the larger problem.
(to Nicola) Have you been at Number 10 lately? Jesus, it's like the break-up of the Beatles, right? During the fall of the Roman Empire, while fucking Jordan's getting divorced from that bloke. All happening at the same time in a tiny fucking terraced house, yeah? Anyway, this interview, right?
(stuttering) It-It-It's a small...
(At this moment, Terri's cell phone rings...)
(to Malcolm) Sorry, Malcolm. Can I? Sorry.
(While Terri leaves Nicola's office to take the call, Nicola continues talking to Malcolm.)
(to Malcolm) They wanted to talk Tom, and, uh, I said that he was the best man for the job.
Yeah, well, so what? I mean, it's the BBC. It's not fucking Spare Rib, is it?
I-I thought it might sound like I thought I was the best woman for the job.
Listen, Nicola, no offense, but you're not leadership material, yeah? I mean, fucking curtain material in that outfit, but you know.
(to Nicola) Right, um, the BBC have put it on the website. You saying that the PM's the best man for the job.
Yeah, and they're saying that you fired the starter pistol on a new leadership bid.
(watching a video on a computer) I've got it on here.
(Sure enough, a video of Nicola's interview with Gavin Boyes is playing on the BBC website.)
(on the video) I mean, yes. Absolutely. At some point, I would love there to be a female leader. But I believe that the current Prime Minister is absolutely the best man for the job.
(to Terri) No! I said "person" and you went "huh" over it!
(to Nicola) It wasn't on a microphone...
(again to Nicola) It is fucking bad. (to Terri) Terri. get on to the BBC, fucking nuke them. Nuke them and rebuke them.
Terri; Yep, got it.
Malcolm, maybe we're making matters worse. We're making them think we've got a live one. I just think we're overreacting.
No no no no no. We nip this in the fucking knackers now, okay?
(smiling) It's been, uh, a wonderful experience here. I think I'll leave you all to it. My work here is done.
(to Ben) Whoa whoa whoa whoa no no no no. You're staying here, mate.
(objecting) I'm not staying here. You haven't even got biscuits here.
You stay here, right? The situation's fucking febrile.
(Ben is puzzled by the word "febrile.")
You don't fucking know what febrile means.
No you don't. It-It means there are gonna be hysterical journalists, right? Watching every fucking move we make. So I want you unplugged from the mains until the danger's past.
(calling out from Nicola's office) Right, there's-there's a few journalists out there already.
(to Ben) See? See, there you are. It's a fucking feeding frenzy.
Yeah? Well, not in here, it's not.
(again to Ben) Don't panic, Orca. We'll get sandwiches, okay? (to Ollie) How many are there there?
Right. Eight constitutes a lockdown.
(And so, Malcolm leaves Nicola's office to lock DoSAC down.)
Right, people, listen up! It's a fucking lockdown! Right now!
Oh, come off it! We're not in a prison drama, are we?
(to Nicola) We are in a prison drama and this is the fucking Shawshank Redemption, right? But with more tunnelling through shit and no fucking redemption. (back to the crowd) Right, people, nobody move, right? Nobody move, nobody gets fucking truncheoned in the face. This is a lockdown, right? What that means is this office is now an isolation unit. Do not use the phones. No fucking emails. (to Glenn, who's still on his cell phone) No phones, Glenn. Come on.
(ending his phone call) I-I've got to go. Bye.
It's like wet play, isn't it?
(playing chess over the phone, with a miniature chessboard) Queen to knight 4.
I never had you down as a chess man, Glenn, I thought you might be more the kind to play Ludo or something.
Oh what, can you not multitask, Deep Beige? (He and Ollie laugh)
What, check? Oh, fuck you!
Well, you know, politics is like a game of chess, Glenn, insofar as you're shit at both of them.
Malcolm (answering his mobile): Nicola Murray is not going to make a leadership announcement this evening. Permission to speak frankly and off the record, yeah? She's an idiot. I know that she's in the Cabinet, but look, that's like being disabled at a football match, yeah? I mean, she's very close to the action, but hardly likely to score a goal. That – No! That – How is that offensive? That is a very fair and accurate portrayal of just how fucking retarded she is.
Are you emailing? Are you stirring this up? Is that why you came into DoSAC today: did you have a big bucket of shit and a whisk?
Just, you know, 'Joan Rivers wants to be the new Prime Minister. Have a look at this clip of her online, staking her bid.'
Come on, it's not my fault you've dressed up like a dead geisha.
Because I'm bored, it's funny and – and I hate you. There you are, the holy trinity of why.
Do you know, talking to you is like talking to a fucking whoopee cushion!
Two bits, actually. Um...
Enough. Can we all just shut the fuck up, okay? So we can gather our thoughts. So, one at a time. Private Godfrey, get to your station. (Glenn runs to his desk) I want to hear what the word is on the street.
All right, (reporting from his computer) 'Ben has been seen coming into DoSAC but not going out. Possibly Ben is her running mate as number two in a leadership bid.'
Hah! Right, I don't mind going out there now and telling them all face to face just how much I hate Nicola and how unlikely that is to happen, and get myself a sandwich, I'm fucking starving –
What did I just fucking say, what did I just fucking say? I said one at a fucking time. Stand up. (Ben does not stand) I'm telling you to fucking stand up, you sack of fucking cum! Stand the fuck up! (Ben stands) Fucking move, right. (Malcolm grabs a keyboard) See that? Fucking play with that, right? Never mind your fucking toys, play with that. (Malcolm hands Ben the keyboard and pushes him) Go and stand in that fucking corner. Stand over there, right? And do not move, or I will perform a fucking living fucking autopsy on you! With a fucking rusty spade, and I'll have your kidneys for fucking CUFFLINKS!
(to Ben) See, you? Get me a fucking Curly Wurly, right?
(Shortly afterwards, Ben gives Malcolm a Curly Wurly.)
It's a classic Curly Wurly I wanted. A Curly Wurly should be the size of a small ladder.
Your hands have got bigger.
That was utterly humiliating. For fuck's sake, Malcolm!
Shouldn't that be 'of fuck's sake'?
I don't know what you're talking about.
May I just quote it to you? 'The Prime Minister is the right man for the moment.'
Yeah. That's what you told me to say.
Of the moment, of the moment, I told you to say 'of the fucking moment': there's a huge difference between me saying to you, 'Nicola, I would like to go for a lovely walk with you', and 'Nicola, I would like to make a hat out of your fucking entrails!' (And then, Malcolm's cell phone rings. Again.) Excuse me.
(Who's on Malcolm's cell phone NOW?)
Steven. (beat) Yes, well you can tell Tom right now that I'm fucking sweating embryos for him, okay?
How fucking dare you? Have you any idea of the amount of pressure that has been exerted on my skull, huh? It feels like my brain has been fucking emptied into little packets, into fucking crisp packets. Cheese and onion fucking crisp packets, that contain my living, breathing, fucking brain!
Malcolm, I'm really sorry, I –
And these crisp packets – cheese and onion, smoky bacon – they've been stomped on. They've been fucking stomped on! By Ben, fucking Nicola –
I didn't mean to be horrid –
(long silence)
No, I'm over it, okay? Don't you apologise, don't you fucking apologise, you don't need to apologise. I love this place. I do! I mean, fucking compared to Number 10, this place, this place is fucking tranquil, yeah? Over there, 300 yards down the road, I mean it's like a fucking cancer ward: I mean, there are people in there, they're fucking screaming at each other. They're screaming, 'You gave me this fucking disease. You gave me this fucking disease!' And every corner that I turn, there's another threat, Terri: hacks! Hacks, fucking vampire hacks! And they're slaughtering us, Terri, THEY ARE FUCKING SLAUGHTERING US, AND THEY WANT MY FACE FOR A FLANNEL!
And you know what? I used to be the fucking pharaoh, Terri, I used to be the fucking pharaoh! Now I'm fucking floundering in a fucking Nile of shit! But I am gonna fashion a paddle out of that shit. Yeah?
I'm not going down. I am not going down. Yeah?
How are you feeling about things?
Well, you know, I'm just trying to do my best and, you know, make sure I can still get home by six o'clock. Do you want a huggle?
No, I think – That's nice of you, I really appreciate it. Terri, it's been nice to have a chat, but I've gotta get on.
Yeah. Let's get back on track.
(both leave the room)
Funny to use that phrase.
All righty-o, okay, Nicola, let's see you in your office, please.
Dunno, it was all about ancient Egypt.
