(In this scene, Peter, Phil and Emma are walking their way upstairs to their office. The news of Nicola Murray's resignation as Leader of the Opposition is being broadcast on TV.)
There she goes, a tiebreaker in the making. "Who was Nicola Murray? I'll have to hurry you, teams."
Farewell, our shit and useless servant.
Yeah, at least Miller's a step up from Murray. He doesn't have to write Left and Right on his wellies.
(Meanwhile, Stewart is leading his team downstairs at their desks.)
I need your attention for 30 of your earth seconds. This is what will happen.
(looking downstairs) What the fuck is Stewart doing?
You will go to the Z drive. You find a file entitled, "Miller Ascension, Whitehall Arab Spring." Open, ingest, implement. And after that...(While Stewart is talking to the team, he sees Peter, Phil and Emma upstairs and makes an "I see you" gesture towards them.) I expect both of you, you two...
The man made of space hopper is coming this way.
(Peter, Phil and Emma continue walking.)
This is gonna be about the inquiry.
(to Phil and Emma) I'm thinking I should resign now.
(Emma and Phil are stunned.)
No, you can't do that! You're Aslan! No one shaves your mane!
I'm not a fucking lion, Phil. There's going to be an inquiry into the death of a man who died because of a policy I signed off on. We all know how this is going to end. I, I, I should take the dignified way out.
No, you've missed the dignified exit. That was straight away, basically.
(slumping his shoulders) Yeah.
(Peter, Phil and Emma are now talking about Fergus and Adam's Carer's Pass policy.)
The only silver lining in today's cloud of farts is that another one of Morecambe and Wise's policy launches is ruined.
Are those the carers? They don't look old enough.
Free travel passes or something. It's another one of Adam and Fergus's Pop-Up Book of Policies.
(As Peter and his team stop by the carers, he politely greets them and shakes their hands.)
(to the carers) Peter Mannion, lovely to meet you. What vital work you do.
Peter, I'd love to introduce you to the carers...
(to Fergus, flatly) I've just met them.
(Peter, Phil and Emma are now trying to come up with a plan in Peter's office...)
What's my plan? I didn't resign, and now this inquiry's gonna nail me up like fucking Barabbas.
Actually, he was the one they let go. Shouldn't have, he's a criminal.
Wait...We could, we could wrong-foot Murray.
You could push for the inquiry to go wider.
Wider? That's mental, we want to shut it down!
No, shush! Just hear me out! We can look into the whole, the whole culture of PFI procurement.
Fuck, that hurt to say! But she-she's right, because, um, Murray's husband's involved in PFI and he's as dodgy as a Russian, – as a Russian.
We can backspin it, Peter, it's good.
But, but is – is revenge a mature response? Let me think: Yes it is. Right, let's poke her in the PFIs.
(Stewart is now upstairs talking to more of the DoSAC personnel.)
If you get any channel problems, just swing them past the purple Power Ranger over here. (pointing to Terri)
(As Peter leaves his office, he sees the carers again.)
(to the carers) Hello again. Vital, vital work, so proud of you. (Then Peter walks over to Terri.) Terri, I've got a job for you.
Ah, Peter, this is all pretty white-knuckle stuff, eh? Is it getting the old adrenaline pumping, assuming it can squeeze past the port and stilton –
(to Stewart) Shut the fuck up, you prancing shit. (to Terri) Uh, we need to widen the inquiry into Mr. Tickle's death to include the issue of PFI contracts.
Great. Okay, I'm just working on Fergus's Carers Pass press release...
Aw, good. Could you fuck that to one side for the moment and concentrate on this? Yeah.
Let's slip it into neutral for a moment here, Peter. We haven't got a green light from the PM yet, so let's not hit the accelerator.
Here's another way of looking at it: Let's. Goodbye.
Malcolm (to party staff, ahead of Nicola's arrival): Right, stop rolling around naked in the headlines; blind man's crumpet's on the way up. If you're gonna film her on your phones, try not to make it obvious, and no smiling. Not even a wee fucking Anne Robinson, right? The look we're going for should be solemn respect: you know, like blokes modelling underpants.
(Nicola Murray is trying to ask Dan Miller, the new Leader of the Opposition, NOT to go through with launching the inquiry.)
This inquiry, you know, it's not really necessary now, so if-if you want to say that, I'll just back down.
(unmoved) An inquiry wouldn't be a bad thing. A clean break with the past in the minds of the electorate.
Well, I mean, the electorate, you know, like me. (chuckling) Quite a lot of them voted me leader, so...
But you only beat me on a technicality.
Yeah. I mean the thing is, Dan, (Dan nods) you know, pragmatically, I'm now a party grandee – (Malcolm enters) Malcolm, this is a private conversation.
(Malcolm takes a chair and sits down.)
You are not a grandee, you are a fucking blandee. No one knew what the fuck you stood for. Political fucking mist. No substance, no weight. You've got all the charm of a rotting teddy bear by a graveside. By the way...women fucking hate you. I can show you the polling. They think you come across like a jittery mother at a wedding. The best thing you ever did in your flatlining non-leadership was call for an inquiry, because that will fuck the government and it will fuck you. So now, please, just fuck off back to your home, you headless frump, and prepare for your column in Grazia.
Steady on, Malcolm, that's a bit strong.
(to Nicola) Come on, let's go.
Okay, you, well...You just need to know that you have absolutely fucking done it now, Malcolm, because you are about to find out what it feels like to have me pissing in your tent.
Well, you know what? Your piss will never fucking make it into my tent, because by some unforeseen Nicola Murray-shaped fiasco, like every fucking Nicola Murray-shaped fiasco I've had to deal with for the last two years. you'll end up blowing your own fucking stream into your own fucking face. There's your golden handshake.
(to Malcolm) We'll see. (to Dan) Right, well, thanks, Dan. Think about what I said. Also might want to think about the fact there should be an apostrophe in "its" (pointing to the "Its Miller Time" sign) Illiterate fuckers.
(Adam is at Fergus's computer in their office. Adam is showing Fergus an article that will help Fergus distance himself from Peter in the Tickel scandal.)
Bingo. We just need to leak it. You saying, "Key worker housing sell-off is possibly the worst idea since the invention of theatre."
Does that give us enough distance from Mannion?
Oh yeah. This is your Get Out of Jail Free card strapped to a fucking jetpack. We just need to leak it.
Yeah, well, obviously it can't look like it came from us.
Maybe it's time to bring Glenn back into the hub. He's been out on a limb since punk, hasn't he?
Thousand-year-old Glenn Fiddich?
Yeah. Fucking perfect, he'll love it.
(Glenn, meanwhile, is in his office, trying to contact Ollie.)
Glenn (on the phone): Ollie, look, I'm feeling very exposed here. I've got my cock out, it's covered in breadcrumbs and the fucking pigeons are circling. Look, please, just-just ring me back.
(Suddenly, Fergus and Adam enter Glenn's office.)
Mr. Cullen. We would like you to leak -- (pretending to be a magician) Wow! This. (Adam shows Glenn a USB flash drive.) Don't worry, nothing major, just an email that puts a bit of distance between Fergus and the Tickle affair.
What, I go from being a turnip to a leak? Still a fucking vegetable to you, though, eh?
You wanna bring Mannion down a peg or 12, don't you, Glenn?
Yeah, of course I do. The up his arse Kensington Butcher.
(pointing to the USB flash drive) Well, this is the cyanide capsule we'd like you to break into his afternoon brandy.
This is it, Glenn. You're off the bench, back on the pitch to score the golden goal in extra time. Come on, mate!
(After some thought...)
Fuck it. Why not? I'll do it.
(Fergus offers to shake Glenn's hand, but Glenn's still a bit, uh, sore...)
I don't need to shake your hand.
All right. Touchy, but not feely.
Just go. I'll just have a look at it.
(As they leave Glenn's office. Fergus and Adam give each other celebratory fist bumps.)
You are a brilliant bullshitter.
Yeah, well, two years doing press for npower, it never leaves you.
(Glenn sneaks into Terri's office to leak the email from her computer while nobody else is looking. But as he's getting ready to do the deed, Glenn's caught by -- who else? -- Terri.)
Glenn! (beat) What are you doing at my computer?
I-I'm just doing Bradford & Bingley a favor. I'm bringing down Mannion by leaking an email.
A leak? C-Coming from my computer? No. No, get off, get off. (pointing to the computer) Take that...that, the whatever it is out of the...whatever it is. Take it. Out.
No one will think it's you. Nobody leaks from their own computer. Look, you do this for me and I'll make sure that you get the full severance package, no questions asked, with full pension.
(tempted) And a lump sum?
(whispering) The thing is, Glenn, I've got -- I've got my eye on a tea shop near Ludlow. Without a lump sum, no tea shop, no can do.
Okay, right. This can go straight to Geoffrey at The Guardian.
Please? Just your hand on mine and my hand on yours, just do it together. Like, erm...
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Not that I'm saying you're butch.
(And with that, Glenn and Terri lock hands on the computer mouse...)
GTGlenn & Terri
One, two, three...
(They click the mouse.)
(In this scene, Peter, Phil and Emma arrive at Stewart's office at Number 10. Stewart is preparing a "whiteboard session"...much to Peter's annoyance.)
Ah, Team Peter. Come on, guys, let's take a little imagination stroll through a virtual inquiry, yeah?
(groaning) Oh, dear God, not another whiteboard session. I've-I've got a note from my mother, I have a verruca.
Just wanna get an overview, Peter, yeah? A helicopter shot of where we currently are. Who's most to blame in the blame garden. Okay, the onion is PFI. Let's peel back some layers. Murray resignation, how do we feel about that?
What's "Tickle's M Records"?
Medical, it's his leaked medical records.
Leaked? I-I-I thought they were common knowledge.
Well, they are now, because they have been leaked.
(to Emma) Did you know about this?
Well, yeah, Number 10 knew, so I-I knew, yeah.
(to Phil) What about you?
Yeah, I-I thought Tickle leaked them himself.
Who would voluntarily leak their own medical records? You'd have to be mad to do that.
He was mad, that's precisely what his records said.
Exactly. You know, he was a male nurse. That's not just mad, that's mental.
(taken aback) Oh, Phil! Did the last 30 years only happen to other people?
Why didn't I know about this? Leaking medical records is illegal. Well, I-I -- Now I look guilty and incompetent.
(writing on the whiteboard) Ah! Peter, incompetent.
Look! Don't write that down! I'm not on your sodding onion!
(continuing writing) What is GFU? Good for us. Mmm?
Emma (looking at her phone): Oh, shit with a capital SHIT! We've got to go.
Hey, no no no no no no no, sit.
The Guardian have received an email from Fergus – actually, do you know, strike that, a chain of emails – Oh, perfect, with all of our comments about Mr. Tickle underneath.
Oh God, not-not the one where we all piled in with the Mr. Men jokes?
Yes, yes. That one, Phil.
(They all run back to DoSAC while reading the emails on their phones.)
They've leaked all the bloody emails: 'Mr. Tickle sounds like a gropey clown at a kids' party'.
I can't see! Can I make it bigger?
Go to Settings. 'Poor ickle Mr. Tickle, perhaps he's mentally sickle.' Must be Fergus.
Is this Settings? Oh, I think I've just taken a picture of my feet!
Erm... Glenn is in reception.
Hoddle? Miller? Close? Morangie?
Cullen. Glenn Cullen is in reception.
Why are you even fucking telling me that? When the Queen's butler finds a cockroach in the pantry, he just stamps on it.
Okay. Okay! I'll go stamp on the cockroach, Malcolm.
Oh, hey! Shouldn't you be in bed?
Shouldn't you not be here?! Whoa, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop! You can't go up there.
No, I have to. I can't go back over there, it's like Alien vs. Predator!
Yes, everybody is... tremendously appreciative of what you've done. It was a noble sacrifice, but--
What do you mean, "sacrifice"? I thought we had a deal! "Sacrifice" sounds very one-sided.
Yeah, well, "piss off" sounds one-sided, but there we go-- (Malcolm arrives and pushes him aside) Hey! M-Malcolm!
Why is he still here? Can you not perform a simple task? When there is a shit on your doorstep, you hose it off.
You don't try to talk it into leaving of its own volition.
I got rid of Nicola for you, you owe me!
I owe you? Your act of treachery wiped the slate clean. Rudolf Hess's fucking senile older brother.
Look, I know you think I screwed up, but I came here on my hands and knees, Malcolm.
You, my friend, you don't exist to me anymore, I can't even fucking hear you.
Do you want me to beg? Is-Is that it? Because I -- Because I will.
Listen, Mary, Queen of fucking Shits: in the old days we would've just slit you up the middle like a fucking Cornish pasty, hanged your steaming entrails all around the Tower of fucking London! Catch you later, you fucking traitor! (turns to Sam, who has appeared on the stairs) Sam, what is it?
It's a call from Stewart Pearson.
(takes the phone from Sam) Stewart Pearson. (to Glenn) I'm the fucking wankers' lodestone today. (answers the phone, walking away) Stewart. Yes, the goatee-bearded guru-boy of Company B.
(Stewart and Malcolm are having a not-so-friendly chat on their cell phones.)
Yeah, Malcolm, can this wait? Hmm?
Word is the PM's considering an inquiry into the culture of leaking.
No, no. Do you really think he's going to invite everyone into our complex network of secret little burrows? Open up the whole of Watership Down?
(sarcastically) Okay, Bright Eyes. I'm massively fucking reassured.
Look, you may as well have an inquiry into gravity. Now I have to go, Malcolm, because I've got like a whole country to govern, yeah?
(As Peter, Phil and Emma are coming back to the office, Terri runs up to Peter to beg his forgiveness for the leaking of the chain of emails.)
(to Peter) The primary thing I want to say, first and foremost, is that you can't blame me for this. Peter. If-If anything, it's the culture of blame that's to blame for this.
(Peter and his team walk past Terri and, yet again, pass the carers along the way.)
(to the carers, smiling) Great to see you again. Such crucial work you do. (to Phil and Emma, angrily) Meeting room!
(Team Peter finally make their way into the meeting room.)
(to Phil and Emma) Right, SIT DOWN!
(As soon as Team Peter enters the meeting room and close the door, Peter really lays into Phil and Emma.)
I can't resign, and I'm not gonna resign. I had the perfect moment to resign, which was right early on, when I could have resigned in a dignified and statesman-like way, and you both advised me not to resign. So now, I can't resign.
(Phil and Emma agree with Peter's decision not to resign.)
(still composing himself) What's gonna happen is this. One of you has got to go. I want both of you to give me reasons why you shouldn't resign.
(stunned) Er, because...because I'm a, a Special Advisor to a...senior cabinet minister.
(while Phil's talking) That's a job description, Philip. That's a job description.
(unimpressed) That's not a reason. That's just your job -- from which I'm asking you why you shouldn't resign.
(struggling) I know everything about you. I am a, a world expert in-in-in Peter Mannion from, uh, PIN number to inside leg measurement. I, I'm-I'm there, um, you know...
(to Phil) What's his inside leg measurement?
(to Emma) 34. (to Peter) I've given you everything, Peter, you can't...I mean, I-I don't have anything else, that's the point. I don't, I don't have any friends, I don't have any life, I haven't had sex for five years and I don't even enjoy it, so...you know, I'm not gonna get anyone pregnant. I'm never gonna get anyone pregnant, okay? You know, I'm fucking seedless. Whereas she's just, just a fucking baby bomb, okay?
And she's gonna go off all over the office and-and leave you! I'm gonna be here!
(And THEN, to make matters worse for Peter, Terri barges into the meeting room!)
(entering) I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but my-my good name is at stake here.
Peter, you must understand. I am an innocent woman. I'm the DoSAC One.
(fed up) That's it! I've had enough! I've had enough of all of you! You're all shit! I'm gonna sort it out by myself!
(Peter leaves the meeting room...but now he's trying to outrun Terri.)
I can't bear that you think about me like this.
I insist. I insist. I insist, Peter, please...
All right, Terri! I admit it, I'm in love with you! Now fuck off back to your office and organize the wedding!
(And now, Fergus and Adam are celebrating what seems to be a triumphant victory.)
(happily) Mannion goes Mel Gibson.
(Fergus and Adam celebrate with a fist bump.)
You know, you know what you've done?
You, you, you have bought a fan, you plugged it in, you turned it on, you turned the dial up to maximum.
It wasn't a weak fan, it wasn't one of those office fans. It was a Dyson. And I stood the other side of it.
And where did the shit go?
(Adam imitates an explosion.)
(But then, Fergus's cell phone chimes...)
Um, check the fucking emails.
What are you talking about?
What the fuck did you give to Glenn?
(checking the computer) Well, it was just the email, just the...
Yeah, but it's the whole -- We're on the email.
(Fergus and Adam are now starting to panic.)
Why did you, why did you leave us on the-on the dongle?
Because he's only supposed to send the fucking top part of it.
Why did you give him the choice?
Because an email has a chain, Fergus, it has a fucking chain that goes all the way down!
Adam, there is now shit all over me! How come there is shit on me? Thanks, Adam!
Look, it's not my fucking fault! He's supposed to redact it!
I just wanted one solid shit to go in one direction! Not Madras fucking everywhere!
