(Phil, sitting in Peter's office chair, has just left a voicemail for Emma.)
(entering): Have you got any of them yet?
No, everyone's ignoring me. It's like the first year of university all over again. Fuck it, the whole of university! (Peter's office phone rings.) Jesus. (answers) Hello? No, I can categorically say that Peter Mannion will not be resigning over this. Thank you. (hangs up)
World At One. I handled it.
You don't handle The World At One, Phil, they're not stolen goods. Now listen, if you want to go and play phones, you can go down to the crèche where there's a big phone with big boggly eyes that go round and round when you wheel it about. Now piddle off!
(Phil leaves. Terri sits down in Peter's chair.)
We've got to put something out there, Terri.
That boy is a simpleton. Two hundred years ago, they wouldn't have let him milk a cow. (phones a journalist) Jonty! Terri here over at Hectic House. (laughing) No! No, Peter's not resigning!
FPFemale party worker
Free apples! [throws ball]
MPMale party worker
Uh, free coffins. [throws ball]
Reduce the deficit with spending cuts.
EEEveryone except Stewart
Yes and ho!
Peter, Peter, I want to hear new ideas ricocheting off your synapses like a pinball, not just a two year old slogan.
Okay, Doctor Jazz, let's hear it. [throws ball]
We do away with computers.
EEEveryone except Peter
Yes and h-
You idiot! That's fucking mental!
No blocking, Peter, only counterpoint. Do away with computers, what do we think? How will it affect us? Good idea? Bad idea?
Good idea for me, I wouldn't get anymore of your fucking emails. [Peter gets up]
Try and stay cross-legged if you can, but don't break the circle...
I'm 54, Stewart. My knees are fucked and my patience is snapped. Some of us had to go through this hippie shit the first time around.
I'm not talking about trying to sell it to the electorate, Peter. I'm talking about exploring it within the free space of the circle.
Okay, give me the ball. Give me the ball! Give me the ball. (Peter tries to wrestle the ball away from Stewart)
Give me... give me the FUCKING ball, Stewart! [grabs the ball] Let's do away with you.
Filter's off, Daddy-o! Let it all hang out! Just suppose your free-range no-consequence bullshit was hugely entertaining when we were in opposition and shitting money, but now we're in government and it's all gone a bit J.G. Ballard, it's irrelevant and infantile!
Oh, and maybe the reason you don't mind handing your phone in is that it doesn't ring as much as it used to. Oh, sorry; doesn't ring as much as it used to, yes and ho.Glenn: Want the opinion of an old lag? Mannion will have to go.
Stick to 'policemen are getting younger', Glenn. Peter's going nowhere, and I don't mean that in a Glenn's career kind of way.
I've seen a lot of people resign, and they're always happier afterwards.
You're thinking of lobotomies. Peter resigns over my dead body.
Yes. Yes, that would be the ideal scenario.
(Peter, Emma and Stewart are wondering why they have been called away from the Thought Camp.)
It's probably just Phil, he'll have run out of colouring books or something.
Anything to get out of Stewart's think sphincter.
(to the hotel receptionist) Hello, receptionist. Could I have my phone, please?
RReceptionist
Um, your name, sir?
Peter Mannion. Mine's the old Nokia. Yeah, thank you.
Look, mine's the one with Stewart written on it.
(Nobody can get a good reception on the phones...)
I can't get any reception.
RReceptionist
No, you won't round here.
RReceptionist
"No reception at reception," we always say. The best spot, sounds stupid, is the children's play area, top of the slide?
(Peter and Stewart are forced to run over to the playground to get a reception!)
God, I hate the country. (to Peter) Get higher, you idiot.
That's it, that's it, I've got something.
Download the intel, Peter. Come on, put it on speaker.
No, I've got loads of messages from my wife and from Phil.
(Peter's listening to the messages on his cell phone.)
She's taking the dog to the hospital...
She's had a long wait...the wound in his paw's gone septic.
Oh please, Peter, move on.
Okay, it's my turn on that signal, Peter, get down.
Wait, I'm listening to the message! I'm listening to the fucking message! Don't --
I need to get this signal!
(Peter still doesn't want to slide down the slide.)
(Peter slides down the slide.)
I've got it! I've got it!
(Emma's come over to the playground.)
Playtime's over. Tickle's dead, okay? Number 10's gone off the hook mental. Stewart, take my phone to call the PM. (Emma gives Stewart her cell phone.)
(to Peter) Right, Phil's meeting us, he's going to bring a shirt, suit and tie. You are not going to arrive looking like the manager of an organic wine bar. (to both Peter and Stewart) Right. Come on, come on, come on! Movement!
(Fergus, Adam and Glenn are discussing strategy back at DoSAC.)
Well, anyway, um, Mannion has surely got to freeze housing disposals now.
Yeah. And on that point, Glenn, I wonder if it might be at all helpful if we collated every single statement Mannion's made about Tickle and the sell-off policy?
Yeah, as a sort of favor to selected hacks. Put a bit of air between us and the policy. A lot of air.
Adam, this is not the time for party political point-scoring. At least let the body get cold.
Of course, understood. What was it? What was it Peter said to those Welsh chartered surveyors?
The health service should be for care, not subsidized housing. I mean, that is...
(Adam mimes an explosion.)
Jesus, is this what we came into politics for?
Yeah. That and the pussy.
(In the car back to DoSAC HQ from Thought Camp, Phil hands Peter a rainbow tie.)
What's that? I'm supposed to be commenting on a suicide, not a fucking camel race!
I thought it would balance out the bad news. You know, yin-yang. Jon Snow does it.
Stewart (on his phone): I want Tickle's movements over the last 24 hours, and I want his complete mental health records since he first sat on a potty.
Do you think you might need one or two computers for that, Stewart?
(on her phone) Yeah, okay, well, we're going to try and dredge up some firefighting strategy. Yeah, yeah. Absolutely. I'll top-load you as soon as we arrive. Yeah, thanks, okay. All right, bye.
(Peter is struggling to put his suit jacket on with his seatbelt on.)
Can I, can I take the seatbelt off?
(to Peter) No, Peter. (Emma then sees Stewart tapping his head nervously.) Stewart, what are you doing?
It-It helps with the car sickness.
This is great, isn't it, Stewart? A conference on crisis management that's been scuppered by an actual fucking crisis.
We don't even know why he killed himself yet. I mean, suicide, it's pathetic! At least take some of your enemies with you, that's a noble death.
This is going completely nuts, so many questions being asked!
Yes, starting with "Why did Phil bring a tie from the '90s?"
Yeah, don't panic, I brought an alternative. (shows Peter a black tie)
But that's too far the other way!
It makes him look guilty.
How can he be guilty? He's got the perfect alibi, he was at boot camp.
Brilliant, let's release that, hey? 'There's no actual blood on his hands and he remembered to wipe the fingerprints off the knife!'
Phil (showing Peter his tie): Look, you can wear my tie, what about mine?
(to Phil) God, it amazes me you ever found your way out of your mother's womb!
Terri, poppet, can you send me out a cry-mail, 'We give a toss, we're sorry for your loss', yeah? Peter, we might need to relaunch the trousers. And get him a tie, a bland one; Glenn, one of yours, yeah?
(Phil goes to get Glenn's tie)
Er, Peter, I have a bit of news I should probably make you aware of.
Yes I do know, Fergus, a man with an amusing name has died.
Er, no, actually, it's that this morning I, well, I set up a community bank.
You did what? You s– You set up a bank?
Phil (returning with Glenn's tie): I had a moment of weakness and they exploited it, like Hugh Grant.
Yeah, well, we didn't really have much choice 'cause it was all going to piss in a kettle here, so we had to get the economist out of the way.
What are you talking about? What economist?
Well, we were having a preliminary meeting when Phil started to crow, Glenn was having a meltdown, it was getting embarrassing!
You bought a bank out of social embarrassment? I sometimes buy The Big Issue out of social embarrassment, I don't buy a fucking bank!
Peter, this is so fucking us.
Yeah, let me just wind back, right? Let's get this straight, just so that I can deal with you two properly: how much is this bank?
FAFergus and Adam
Well, £2 billion.
Alright, don't need to shit yourself about it, because we're not buying it. OK? It's funded by taxes.
Oh great, the triple! I'm a nurse-killer, a banker, and now I'm raising fucking TAXES?
Well, you are meant to be the bad cop, so what's our out?
(Phil drapes Glenn's tie around Peter's neck)
You're giving me an actual noose along with a metaphorical one. TROUSERS!
Sorry, I'm getting the trousers – (interrupted by an alert on his phone) Jesus! What were you guys doing at the hotel? There's a picture of you on a slide, it's been tweeted by a golfer.
(looks at the photo) Oh, f–
(receiving Phil's phone) No no no no no no...
It's gonna go big, probably viral. Bigger than Charlie Bit My Finger.
You look like the Shit Family Robinson.
(Stewart suddenly screams and hurls Phil's phone at the wall, narrowly missing Emma)
(Stewart storms off)
Oh, poor Stewart. I think a bit of his brain broke.
My phone broke! I was up to Warlock General in Dragonlance! A year of my life, gone!
Er, Peter, speaking of socially embarrassing situations, what the fuck were you doing being photographed on a slide?
It was the only place we could get a FUCKING SIGNAL!
Two grown men in a playground, that's a pretty 'clear signal'.
Peter, Number 10 have seen the photo. They don't want you to make a statement. So Fergus, looks like you're up. Statement on Tickle in 10 minutes, OK?
I'm gonna go and talk Stewart down.
(Phil tries to hand the pair of trousers to Peter.)
I don't want the fucking trousers!
(Phil gives Glenn his tie back.)
Here you go, I managed to wrestle your tie back off Terri. I think there's still some of her fingernails in it, though.
Well, in the grand scheme of things, that's not such a big deal.
You're not going to come and watch your guy give the statement?
No. He's not my guy, Phil. I'm on my own here, there's no one quite like me. Not here, not any more.
Yeah. You're the last VHS in Oxfam. They won't take them anymore, I've tried. Seasons 1 to 5 of The X-Files, nothing, can't give them away.
(Peter and Stewart share an unexpected bonding moment over their mutual dislike of Fergus while watching him on TV.)
(talking to the reporters) ...for a fairer NHS, for a fairer public housing program.
He's exactly why people hate politicians. He's making me hate politicians -- him in particular.
Any second now, he's gonna do the imaginary tits.
(Fergus does the "imaginary tits...")
There they are. (Both Peter and Stewart let out sarcastic chuckles.)
Thank you. (Fergus heads back inside.)
Look at him. (beat) Moments like this make you realize why Elvis shot so many TVs.
