(Meanwhile, Ollie Reeder and Terri Coverley are discussing the Cabinet reshuffle at DoSAC.)
(looking at his computer) Remtard at Energy and Climate Change.
Really? I'm not getting that. (Terri looks at her computer.) It's not on here. How did you get that about Remington?
(slightly annoyed) Refresh the page.
Yeah. Ah, yeah. Oh look, Fatty's staying put! They're not moving Fatty!
Yeah, well, that's 'cause they haven’t got five big blokes and a winch.
They couldn't really demote Fatty, 'cause he knows too much.
Well he doesn't know where the Ryvita is kept, does he?
(Malcolm is on the phone once more, talking to a colleague about how busy he is.)
I've got this -- this-this reshuffle going on, the Leamington Spa by-election coming up, I've got more on my plate than a spinster at a wedding. That wasn't a reference to your daughter by the way, Andrew.
(Hugh Abbot has lost his place in the reshuffle.)
Well. That's Hugh gone, then.
It's so sad, isn't it? Hugh.
(to Terri) You don't give a shit!
(beat)
...No, well, perhaps I don't.
(Malcolm is back on the phone with Andrew -- AND, of course, Malcolm accidentally insults Andrew's daughter.)
Doug Hayes is a massive abortion. Again, not a reference to your daughter. We need somebody to plug this DoSAC hole. Anybody. A fucking mammal with a head.
(to Glenn and Ollie) Have you two finished emptying your desks yet?
(agitated) Yes, don't worry, Terri, we're all ready to go.
I'm just trying to get everything organised for whenever whoever arrives. They are gonna have their own people. It's gonna be very embarrassing if your hand cream's still in the drawer.
Yeah, well, whatever men have. I don't know, electric nose-hair trimmers, Ex-Lax...
(mocking Glenn) Aww, look at Glenn. Your face...On the scrapheap at the tender age of 76? It's no life for you, is it, Glenn, this? Hey, do you want me to call Dignitas? (beat) I could call Indignitas. They could come round and shove you out of the window dressed as a clown.
(Terri announces and introduces the new head of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship.)
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, Nicola Murray.
(Nicola Murray is the new head of the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship -- DoSAC, for short. As she heads into her new office, she gets a cell phone call from her husband, James.)
(on the phone to her husband.) Um...Yes, I know. They just -- they frog-marched me into it. (beat) I didn't know. I had no idea. (beat) James, be fair! I did -- I-I left seven fucking messages for you. Your secretary or whoever is useless. I don't think the school thing's gonna be a problem. It's not gonna be a problem 'cause they'll have vetted me at Number 10. And obviously nobody has soiled themselves or shot me. Great, well, I'll take your warm congratulations as implied. (Nicola hangs up her phone.) Fucking arsehole.
(Terri checks to see if Nicola's alright.)
Yes, it's all a bit crazy. No, it just feels like my head's made entirely of smoke alarms. (laughing) At the moment, it's all a bit OOH... (Nicola mimes an explosion.)
Yes, well, it was a bit of a shock for us all, you know.
In a good way, in a good way.
Well, like twins or a tax rebate.
(Nicola calls both Glenn and Ollie into her office to discuss her policy as the new head of DoSAC.)
My primary focus is social mobility, that's very much my -- my Big Thing.
And I suppose I'm telling you that, really, partly to get your take on it and also so that you can, you know, start spreading the news and printing the posters and, uh, you know, fire up the turbo chargers, set the phases to equality: It's Murray time!
The thing is – and Ollie, please correct me here if I'm wrong.
I will certainly do that.
Social mobility, making people richer, costs money.
Yes, and we don't have any of that, really.
I mean, if you speak to Nick at the Treasury he will tell you the same, only with his annoying lisp.
What you're telling me is that basically I'm gonna be a woman with a computer and some pens.
Well, it's just a pen budget.
I mean, I have about as much real power as those twats who sit either side of Alan Sugar.
(Glenn and Ollie are in Nicola's office, trying to give her tips on how to deal with Malcolm. But before they can do so...Malcolm walks in.)
(entering the office) Is this the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency?
Malcolm Tucker! The real deal. Hello.
(Malcolm and Nicola shake hands.)
(to Nicola, smiling) The real deal. Good to see you. You're looking great! (to Glenn and Ollie) All right, Hinge and Bracket, time to go and hang up your lady-cocks.
(Glenn and Ollie leave, and Malcolm continues his conversation with Nicola.)
Nicola Murray! Here you are, Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship.
Yep, I now have one of the longest job titles in Western politics. Thank God I don't have to wear a lapel badge.
It's a pity that we couldn't just make an abbreviation of it, you know, like PFI. Which I think stands for Pretty Fucking Imbarrassing. If you're a bit sloppy about the details, which clearly your fucking husband is.
Okay, look, James works for Albany, fine. He wasn't even working there when the contract was awarded.
(smiling) Don't worry, don't worry. That was just me, that was...
(getting the joke) Okay, right. Fine.
(serious again) I mean, that's the sort of thing the press will throw at you. I mean, you step out of line, they'll be all over you like a pigeon on a chip, you know? Is that your chair?
Oh God, yeah. It's cool, isn't it? It's got, um, lumbar support.
Bin it. People don't like their politicians to be comfortable. They don't like you having expenses. They don't like you being paid. They'd rather you lived in a fucking cave.
Ok, fine. So, uh, what should I be sitting on? Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?
A fucking normal chair, right? Not a fucking massive vibrating throne.
(Glenn, Ollie and Terri are watching Malcolm's conversation with Nicola outside the office...wondering if Nicola will keep any of them on.)
Malcolm must be hating this. All these bright, fresh, new ministers to blood in and to plan a by-election.
(to Glenn) If it's any consolation to you, a little bit of you will always be in this department, because she's nabbed your chair. Hasn't she? She's got your chair, and, in fact, your dandruff.
Ha ha ha. If I go, that chair is coming with me.
You know those old men you see who go to the park to read the paper? That'll be you. You could go in your chair. They'd make you King of All the Tramps.
(Meanwhile, in Nicola's office...)
So, uh, you got three kids, yeah?
Yeah. Katie's 16, she's the eldest. She's just left school.
Not going to a college or university?
Um, she's a bit of a rebel.
(concerned) What sort of a rebel? I mean, so, I mean, look, what are we talking here? Are we talking a pierced navel or holidays at Pakistani training camp?
It's-it's chiefly heroin. (beat) Although she has cut down since getting pregnant by that Nigerian people-smuggler, because the track marks would have affected her porn career.
(Terri has awkwardly entered the office. She politely apologizes for the interruption, but feels...a little awkward about the conversation taking place.)
I'm sorry to disturb. Um... (to Malcolm) Morning, Malcolm.
(to Nicola) Just wanted to give you a few things here. That's change from the fruit salad. This is this morning's paper. Do excuse me.
(Terri politely leaves the office...and Nicola resumes her chat with Malcolm.)
Um, I'm surprised that you, uh, haven't vetted me, I thought you'd know about the kids.
It's just that 'cause you were just a sort of, you were a bit of a late-ish kind of appointment.
That didn't quite give me the time to, you know, to "fuck the I'd and fist the T's," as Robert Robertson might say.
