(At the start of this episode, Nicola and her team are getting ready to launch DoSAC's Healthy Choices Campaign. The scene starts with a delivery man delivering big bottles of water.)
(to the delivery man, chuckling) Oh, that's great. Don't know why we've ordered so much water. We've all got rabies.
(on her cell phone) So, basically, just get crisps shaped like rockets, rainbow-colored ice cream, you know the stuff that all the other kids have at their parties.
(MORE big bottles of water!)
(surprised) Blimey! More? What are we doing? Opening a dolphinarium?
(off her phone) Good. Sorted. So...Sorry about that. Where were we?
Beneficial Lifestyle Choices.
(happily) I've just landed Andy Murray.
YAY! That's brilliant! Andy Murray?
I've definitely got Andy Murray!
Andy Murray, the face of Healthy Choices.
(sarcastically) No, the fucking pianist.
Nicola Murray NETS Andy Murray!
Well, we both netted him together.
Are you sure you want him?
Murray? (beat) Doesn't it sound like nepotism?
(Not appreciating Terri's criticism) Like, in the way people think Russ and Diane Abbott are related?
And Bill Murray's her father?
Okay, I'll level with you. I don't like him.
(annoyed) Who would you suggest then, Terri?
Pooey Paula? That's not healthy. Shitting in your own pants, that's definitely not a healthy image.
She could demonstrate how to do the Hop, Shit and Jump.
That is very unfair. It only happened once.
Once is all you need! Imagine if Bruce Forsyth, beginning of Strictly Come Dancing... (Ollie pretends to poop) "There we go!" You'd never hear the end of that. And quite rightly!
Terri, can we move on from your hatred of Andy Murray, and can we start trailing a major DoSAC initiative? Now, don't give any details at this stage. Just say it's major TBA.
It's really self-defeating if I have to explain abbreviations to you.
(to Glenn and Ollie) What's FFS?
(to Ollie) Oh, we're gonna need Malcolm clearance, Ollie. Okay? (to Glenn) Glenn, can you get rid of all this water as well? It looks like something out of fucking Doctor Who.
(Meanwhile, Malcolm is at home serving Indian food to some journalists.)
Here they come, it's the Flying Scots-curry-man. (sings) 'Where's your pappadam?' You have got to try this aubergine, it's cooked in ghee, right? I fucking love ghee, it's like fucking freebasing butter. Have some more wine, come on, get quaffing. (mobile rings) Christ, here we go. (answers) No, we don't do takeaway, right? (all laugh, as Malcolm walks away) Listen, see, if this is recorded spam, I'm gonna hunt you down and burst your fucking lungs.
Ollie (at his desk): Where actually are you, Malcolm?
Where are you on holiday, where?
Right, OK, I'm in Thailand, in a sex spa. About to get a fucking facial.
Right, quick summary: Andy Murray, famous tennis player, also lovely Scotch person, face of Healthy Lifestyle Choices. Nicola Murray, slightly panicky, er, minister-lady: wonder if that's OK with you?
Yeah yeah yeah, Andy Murray, yeah, Andy Pandy, fucking Gandhi having a hand-shandy, whatever, just, you know, fuck off out of my life, OK?
Okey dokey! (hangs up. To Nicola and Glenn) The man from Hell Monte, he say 'Fucking aye'!
(apologizing to his guests) Sorry about that. Everybody's heard about the cooking, so it's...
So, Malcolm, what's all this about?
Well, I know that these are hard times for print journalists, yeah? I mean, I read that on the internet. I mean, one day you're writing for the papers and the next you're sleeping under them.
MMarianne
What, so this is like Malcolm Tucker's Soup Kitchen?
Well, it is, kind of, in a way. I just think that you should have one big square meal before you end up fucking living off white lightning in your own feces. Come on, get stuck in. I'll dish it up for you.
MMarianne
What about Tom bringing back Steve Fleming? Kind of makes you old news, doesn't it?
You repositioning yourself, Malcolm?
This is about a guy sharing his ghee. That's it. Okay?
So you're not currying favor, then?
(Marianna starts laughing at Geoffrey's joke.)
MMarianne
(laughing) Sorry...
(to Geoffrey, jokingly) Fuck you. Get out of my house. Get out of my fucking house. That's it. I know...I mean, no wonder nobody's fucking buying your paper.
(Meanwhile, Nicola, Glenn, Terri and Ollie are still getting over Malcolm being on holiday.)
Malcolm hasn't been on holiday for 10 years.
Malcolm's got to keep moving or he's dead. He's like a shark of Bob Dylan.
Well, who's driving the bus?
(Steve Fleming enters the office and starts greeting the staff.)
SFSteve Fleming
Morning! Morning, DoSAC.
Bollocky bollocks. It's the Ghost of Christmas Shit.
There's your answer, Terri: that's the man driving the bus, that's Reg bloody Varney. All stops to electoral oblivion, ding ding.
Get in my office, come on. It'll buy us a bit of time.
(They all do so, as Steve continues to move towards them.)
I've never seen Steve Fleming in the flesh.
For a man who brought us back into power, he's not very imposing, is he? He's like a Lego policeman.
Look at him. Super Mario.
(Steve joyfully enters Nicola's office with cups of coffee for her and her team.)
(Nicola and Steve shake hands, BUT...)
(At Steve's insistence, he gives Nicola a HUG! Fun for Steve...but not so much for Nicola.)
You look like you've lost some weight.
(very pleased) Oh, I think so, yes. No, your face looks quite gaunt. Muscly.
Anyway, I come bearing caffeinated gifts.
(Steve presents the cups of coffee, and the team is appreciative of his gesture. Then, Steve gets down to business.)
I'm gonna cut to the chase. I need you to publish...all the crime stats since 2004 as an accompaniment to our Transparent Government launch. From 2004 up to the last quarter.
Okay, we are just about to launch, um, Healthy Choices. With Andy Murray.
Andy Murray! Whoa! (Steve mimes a tennis volley.) Ace!
(to Nicola) We'll make a Minister of you yet.
I mean, after that, we can try and get you something for, say, end of the week?
After? Why after? Why not right alongside? Or, here's a thought...Before.
Because we're under-resourced and it's not a priority.
The PM thinks it is a priority. It can be done. (beat) Oh, I seem to have reached the end of my argument.
Okay. Well, look, um, why don't we say Thursday lunchtime. Okay?
Well, you've got Fran's leaving lunch on Thursday.
I have got a lunch. Thursday afternoon.
(still smiling) Yes, I don't give a fuck about Fran's leaving lunch. I'm saying Now now now now now now now now. Now!
Okay. Chillax. We're on the case, Steve.
Lovely. Thank you very much.
Good. Okay. Well, it's a delight to see you again.
(Another awkward hug between Steve and Nicola.)
(jokingly) Mind my gaunt face.
(to the whole team) Bye-bye.
(After their first meeting with Steve Fleming...)
What do you call that? Obsessive Repulsive Disorder, I would say.
I'm gonna ring Malcolm. Holiday or no holiday, I'm gonna ring Malcolm about this.
(impersonating Steve) 'Caffeinated gifts!'
Malcolm never brought us coffee. I like him.
Yes, well you like bath salts, you're basically an idiot.
(Meanwhile, at Malcolm's house with the journalists...)
So everybody's for coffee, yeah?
Yeah, I'm sorry I can't do espressos. But I've made this so thick and black, it'll be like fucking drinking plimsolls.
MMarianne
This Steve Fleming thing is gonna end in tears, isn't it? I mean, you sacked him last time.
All right. Right. Okay. Off the record. Right? Okay? While Steven is a useful tool, and I do emphasize the word "useful" here, I'm still running the show. Right?
If you're still running the show, why do you need to tell us?
(Malcolm calmly -- but still menacingly -- walks up to Geoffrey, with the pot of coffee still in his hand.)
(calmly) Geoffrey, all I'm saying is this: It would be very much fucking appreciated if you could emphasize the fact that I'm at the heart of the government. Because it's fucking true. I am the heart. I am the ventricles. And the fucking aorta.
MMarianne
(chuckling) Malcolm, we get it. You're still the star of the show.
It's not for me to say, darling.
No, you're still the star of the show. Yeah, until they start wheeling out the celebrities. What's next, Malcolm? Ant and Dec as the new fucking litter tsars? That's when you know you're 20 points behind in the polls.
Oh, well, thank you very much, Mr. Fucking Prick Robinson.
(Nicola's getting a phone call from a certain someone...)
Nicola, it's your nephew on the phone.
Your nephew. Andy Murray.
(Very excited) Fuck! On the line, now? OH, MY GOD! It's Andy Murray on the line! What line?
He's not there, Terri! Fuck's sake!
God, it drives me insane! Is he there now?
Yeah, yeah. Hang on, let me just get him off hold.
It really pisses me off! The fucking phones in this whole -- Andy! Hello! It's Nicola Murray, yes! What a delight to talk to you!
(While NICOLA Murray's chatting on the phone with ANDY Murray, Ollie gets a call on his cell phone from Malcolm.)
Oh, good. We are literally confirming him as we speak.
Ditch him. We can't go with celebrities. Right? It's just gonna look bad.
We're gonna look desperate, all right?
Well, uh...Steve Fleming likes the idea.
Never mind what Mummy says. Just do what Daddy says, right?
Yeah, whilst you're on, um, just, um...there's another thing. Uh, Mummy has asked us to publish the crime stats as part of the Transparent Government initiative. Is that all right with Daddy?
Really? Because, um, Nicola's got that baffled, panicky look like a child on the ghost train.
Give me a second while I look up my little file of things I really don't give a fuck about. And here we have under the letter N, we've got "nail-bombing golf clubs," there is, uh, the National Trust, there is Newcastle...Nicola Murray. Yes. She's still there. So fucking can Andy Murray and just get on with the fucking crime stats.
(still on the phone with Andy) I'll make sure Kate liaises with my press whiz kid, uh, Terri Coverley. She's a woman. But listen, if there is anything else we can do for you, please don't hesitate to call. Dare I say it, we are here to serve, (laughing) if you'll excuse the pun. All right, Andy. Take care. Bye.
(But now, Ollie has to give Nicola the bad news...)
Malcolm says we have to drop him.
Andy. He's not in, he's now out. Apparently, according to Malcolm, sent to bed without any barley water.
I mean, he's a fucking tennis player! We're not asking Shane MacGowan! Why?
It's nothing personal. He just said bringing in celebrities looks desperate. He said it's the sign of a dying government.
We are a dying government! Our hair's falling out, and we're coughing up blood, and our kids are asking us to change the will!
Look, he was quite clear about this. He said just, you know, kill it. Kitten, breeze block, sack, canal.
Oh, I can imagine him being clear about it. Right. We've gotta get on to -- (to Terri) You've gotta get on to...
...Andy Murray's people and find a polite way of saying, "Piss off, Andy. Apparently, you're too well-known to front our public awareness campaign."
(But Glenn has some GOOD news on the crime stats.)
Right! Good news is I have done all that pile and that's in the system.
(stretching his back) Oh, fuck me!
(But then, Glenn sees a trolley-full of more crime stats headed his way!)
It appears to be a trolley-full of crime stats.
"Vandalism?" "Bicycle theft?" Oh, this is ridiculous!
(And just when he says THAT, Glenn kicks open a box of crime stats!)
Well, that's given us an unexpected head start, well done. I would kill you but I'd have to add you to the fucking figures.
(to Terri) Okay. Think about what you're gonna say.
Yeah. Okay, I've done that.
What? Already? Is that enough time?
(on the phone) Kate. Hello. Uh, Terri Coverley. Yes. Yeah, we're thrilled about Andy being on board.
(whispering to Terri) Get on with it.
(stammering) No. I'm not actually saying that it's...
(Nicola then sees Steve Fleming entering the room. Again.)
(still whispering) Shit! End the call. End the call. It's Mustache Sally. Fleming! Steve Fleming's here! Put the phone down!
(to Nicola) Ah, Nicola Murray! How are the crime stats coming along?
It's not easy, Steve, as you can see. But Glenn and Ollie are on top of it.
"Other theft?" What the fuck is other theft?
I don't know what other theft is.
If you want to stay late, or pull an all-nighter, if you think it'd help –
You want us to work all through the night on this?
It would be very much appreciated upstairs.
Hah, well: I'm an atheist.
(laughs) By the Prime Minister. I did get the joke, by the way.
(Malcolm is back from holiday in this scene, and he's having a warm and friendly chat with his loyal assistant, Sam.)
(happily) Good morning, good morning, good morning! I'm back! I'm sorry I left my sombrero at home, but here I am. What do you think of the tan, huh? What do you think of this shade? I call it "Custard Cancer." (Malcolm gets a delivery.) Oh, thank you very much.
I went to, um, Easter Island. I thought I'd spend my time there re-chiseling all the statues, so that they'd look like Westlife. How about a coffee?
Oh, I've sent you a link to Andy Murray's website. There's, uh, something you should see.
(While Sam leaves Malcolm's office to get him a cup of coffee, Malcolm reads about the big news on Andy Murray's website...)
Andy says, "Just agreed to lead the government's Healthy Choices campaign. Eat, live, be well." Fuck a Pot Noodle.
(Uh-oh...)
Sam, prepare my horse. I ride – to DoSAC!
You're Nicola? Nicola Murray?
(Nicola nods her head "Yes.")
Ah. Secretary of State for...
That's right. I'm Secretary of State. So why has a sports personality launched my policy on his fucking website?
Ah! No, I know. I know exactly why that is.
You didn't make the phone call, did you?
Nicola, um, in other really bad news -- Good morning, by the way.
(on the phone) This is about the crime stats, yeah?
Yeah, some of the crime stats that we published, as it turns out, were unverified and not ready for being in the public domain. Uh, Marianne Swift from The Mail...
That's the one. She noticed, uh, a drop in the figures for aggravated burglary in the last quarter. Whereas when she checked it out...
Right. So Swine-Face Swift and her piggy hack-hog colleagues...
Exactly. So we're getting a lot of, uh, oinking on the phones. So basically what that means is that the department -- well, essentially the royal you, um, seem to have massaged the crime figures.
Great. Thank you, Steve fucking "Ew, Nicola!" Fleming!
Yup. He is a fucking...ninny, isn't he?
Oh, there he is, Bob Carolgees; how's the wee comedy dog?
Welcome back. Good holiday? I hear your kitchen's lovely at this time of year.
Yeah, well actually, I went to Spain.
Yeah yeah, I went to Malaga, it was lovely. I was golfing with Stephen Hawking, he's fucking shit. He lied about his handicap. Mind you, I never had to hire a golf buggy, I just sat in his lap.
Please. Why do we have to be like this? All this negative energy. Come on!
Well, we've got to work together. So, you know...
So what? I mean, that doesn't mean we have to like each other, does it?
(Someone's trying to get past Malcolm and Steve.)
(to the passer-by) Sorry. (He politely lets him pass through.)
We both know we don't like each other, everyone knows that, we are the Gallagher brothers of politics.
How does that work? Does that mean that I'm the semi-talented songwriter and you're the fucking loutish prick? That's a lovely analogy.
You were the one who forced me out of the sodding band. (chuckles) Come on, let's have a chat.
(Malcolm and Steve continue their unfriendly chat in an office.)
You were asked to leave the fucking band. And you wouldn't fucking go, would you? You had to hang on in there, like a limpet up a whale's arse.
Why do you thrive so much on being disliked?
People hate me? Good! Bring it on. Do you know what they say about you?
I'm sure you're going to tell me, Malcolm.
I'll tell you exactly what people think about you!
People have no fucking opinion about you! You're like fucking Special K or fucking the Moody Blues. That's you, fucking white noise in the background—Funny? Is that funny? Do you find that funny?
No, I don't find anything you're saying funny whatsoever. And I'll tell you a home truth, Malcolm Tucker: The people who are really hated in this country, the people who are really hated, are us. This government. How about we stand together? Let's both be team players, shall we?
(But then, Malcolm's cell phone beeps.)
Were you the Einstein that OK'd this fucking Andy Murray thing at DoSAC? Because I've got The Telegraph on here. (Steve's cell phone then beeps.) And you've probably got The Times asking why the budget's been pre-announced on Twitter by fucking Ryan Giggs.
(looking at his cell phone) Shit! "The last quarter's crime stats, which DoSAC have published, are unconfirmed projections." Shit!
Come on, Malcolm. Team players!
(Both men leave the office.)
(Meanwhile, at DoSAC, Glenn, Ollie & Terri are on their desk phones, trying to get a better handle on the news of the moment.)
(on his phone) No, we're not manipulating the figures. Somebody quite simply made a mistake. No. No, I couldn't possibly say who.
(on his phone) Glenn Cullen. Glenn with one, one N.
(on her phone) We have actually decided to go in a different direction from Andy.
(Steve and Malcolm have entered the room, both making a beeline for Nicola's office.)
(to Malcolm) Good holiday?
Shut it, you fucking hairdresser.
(to Malcolm) Got any photos?
I've got a photo of you in a minute with your cock nailed to the desk. Hey, you want to see something that's truly worth photographing? Look at Steve Fleming at work, eh? That's the real master of spin. He's Spinny fucking Hendrix.
(And now, Steve & Malcolm are confronting Nicola in her office...much to Nicola's dismay...)
Nicola, you and your department have screwed up!
(entering) I'd like to agree with the previous speaker, only adding the words 'fucking royally'.
Oh Jesus, am I being gang-bollocked?
Andy Murray's Henman-fisting us in the press. We can't have that –
Well, with undue respect, Malcolm, the crime stats cock-up is a much bigger deal.
This is such a great double act, isn't it? Good Cock, Bad Cock!
I'll tell you what, why don't you go first, mate? I need a wazz.
(While Malcolm leaves to go to the bathroom, Steve continues scolding Nicola.)
I like you, Nicola, I quite like you. But darling, I've gotta ask you, what the bloody hell happened?
Like you asked, we published the crime figures from 2004 up to the last quarter.
Yes, up to the last quarter but not up to and INCLUDING the last quarter, you dozy mare!
'Up to' includes the thing you're going up to. Right? If you say count up to 20, it means count up to and include the number 20!
The events leading up to the Second World War do not include the Second World War!
We haven't got time for a semantic argument about this.
(Malcolm returns from the bathroom.)
Do not fucking call me sweetheart!
I think you'll find that Steve was addressing me: the 'tache is a bit of a giveaway.
I will draft a statement.
You fucking will not draft any fucking statement!
I've been minding the shop!
You were fucking minding the shop, and what happened? A bunch of fucking schoolkids came in and fucking dropped their trousers and fucking had a shit in aisle 5!
Well thank you for giving us a guided tour around the Freudian nightmare of your head!
Could you two decide between you in which order, and from which direction, I'm gonna be shafted?
