(Malcolm and Ben, and separately Ollie and Helen, are watching Nicola at the Remembrance Sunday ceremony on TV)
You're right, she can't fucking walk.
I mean, should we get a pony to challenge her?
It's not a fucking pony, it's a fucking foal.
I don't understand how you can get that wrong.
It's this: (demonstrates) de-de-clunk!
She is officially a Ceno-twat.
Fabulous work, sister. Bury her in a grave. The Unknown Leader.
I can't watch: I feel a bit sick.
I just hope there is no afterlife, because if people fought and died for this, it is going to seem even more ridiculously futile.
Ben (to Malcolm): Why d'you know so much about horses, anyway? I thought you were raised by wolves.
(deleted scene)
(during the Quiet Batpeople brainstorming)
Wombles, Honest Wombles, Everyday Wombles?
Right, OK, obviously, you know, we're not gonna block anything 'cause this is a think-thoughting session, erm –
Sorry, I've just got to take a call.
Think-thoughting, Helen, is what we call, in the real world, thinking. It's the same. Am I say-speaking out of turn? Have I not understood-comprehended you?
I don't know, I tuned you out a bit.(deleted scene)
Hiya, I thought you were bollocking Dan Miller.
Oh, I am. (to the empty chair next to him) Look at you! You bourgeois, fucking side-parted twat, you flap that bammed-up nutcrease of yours again, and I will fuck you so deep, that if you're not drowned in the blizzard of jizz, your rectum will become the biggest fucking indoor venue in fucking Europe.
Malcolm (to Ollie): This is monkey typewriter stuff. There's not even a fucking infinite amount of monkeys with an infinite amount of time with an infinite amount of typewriters that'll produce the words, 'Nicola Murray, PM'.(deleted scene)
How do you know so much about horses, anyway? I thought you were raised by wolves.
I don't know anything about horses, apart from that a grown-up one's a fucking horse and a baby one's a foal. And why are you eating my biscuits?
I don't know, I found them on here. There's one left.
It's like a toilet seat, isn't it? I mean, it's not, it's lovely.
What size of a wreath would you need for a nuclear war?
There wouldn't be anyone left to put it on the Cenotaph, would there? It'd be carried along by cockroaches or whatever it is they say'll survive.
(Peter, Emma and Stewart are in the car, on the way to Thought Camp...and ALL 3 of them are on their cell phones. Stewart is talking to a Minister, Emma is talking to Phil, and Peter is talking to his wife. )
I was picked up at seven, of course I haven't walked the dog. I barely had time to take myself for a shit.
Phil, I'm sure you're suffering from "Peter Withdrawal" symptoms, but I really, really need you to keep an eye of the Tickel issue.
Thought Camp ETA 13 minutes, okay? You're taking the bridge, Kieran.
Okay, well, you can start by not referring to him as Gyppo. Or Gypsy, Phil. It's not, it's not the abbreviation that's the problem.
If he has a thorn in his paw, it must be from when you took him for a walk yesterday.
What do you mean, "You're in charge?" You are not in fucking charge, you doughnut!
Of course you're gonna keep me informed, I want the full crunch on all the feeds, as usual. Everything below the equator.
Take him to the dog hospital. (Peter's wife thinks he's being sarcastic.) No, I'm not being sarcastic! There is one!
Try and keep an eye on things, all right?
The number will be in the folder. The folder. What? (Peter sighs as he realizes he has lost the connection.)
(Now, all 3 members of Team Mannion are off their cell phones.)
Where are you taking us, Stewart? This Mind Kampf is in the middle of nowhere.
Thought Camp, Peter, and isolation is the mother of renewal. We shall retreat to go forwards.
Terrible signal! Phil sounded like he was phoning in a report on an African coup.
Why's he even gone in today?
I put him on Tickel oversight.
Well, cutting the guy ropes on his tent is hardly the Siege of Troy.
Bailiffs thought it would be easier today, quicker or quieter.
Yeah, but I want Phil sealed off, right? He makes no statement today, not even off the record.
He wanted to feel useful.
Then he should sell his organs.
(Glenn and Phil are alone in the DoSAC building.)
Yeah, well, we've got the whole palace to ourselves, eh? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
Yeah, but very much alive. Well, one of us.
Stewart (to party staff arriving at Thought Camp): OK people, abandon phones, all ye who enter here. And watches too: time is a leash on the dog of ideas.Stewart: OK lovely people, let's go truffling in the forest of knowledge.
OK people, I'd like to start this session with a question: when is a party not a party?
(quiet laughter)
Emma (quietly, annoyed): Peter!
A party is not a party when it is plural. (brings up a slide of a woman on her phone in a crowd) There she is, the party, singular: she thinks like you, she votes like you, she is not you, and yet of course, she is you.
Peter (to himself, sighing): I feel like I've joined the Scientologists.
Some of these people want a federal Britain, others don't. And as long as we continue to do nothing, we can call that "consensus."
(to Emma) Why am I the only senior minister here? Is JB punishing me?
Look, Mary Drake's here, Home Office.
(Peter and Emma nod hello to Mary.)
(to Peter) And yes, JB is punishing you.
OK, let's McIntyre this: stand up. Let's find out, in fact, chairs to the side, please.
Great, vague prancing about.
MDMary Drake
Isn't that one of the fundamental principles of democracy?
(to Peter) Oh, I'm sorry, Peter, you want to share your thoughts?
Hmm? No, we just hoped we were going to do some dancing, er, Stewart. What, Merce Cunningham, something like that?
Okay, maybe later you can share it with us. But first of all, let me share something with you. How about this, Silicon Playgrounds, yeah? What caused this slow-motion pile up? Shall we sit down and chew over "hash-tag epic fail?" Or shall we try and get some solutions on their feet? That's it, just put it at the side, Peter.
(Fergus is bringing Tara Strachan, a strikingly beautiful economist, to DoSAC HQ.)
(to Tara) Here we are, at the Coalface. (to Adam) Ah. Adam, this is Tara Strachan.
(to Tara) Hello, lovely to meet you.
TSTara Strachan
Hi there.
Shall we, er...She's an economist...
(Fergus and Adam are quite happy to see Tara. Phil, on the other hand, is a little confused.)
What's going on? Who's the skirt?
Oh, I'd love to bring you up to speed, Phil. I really would, but I'm not gonna live long enough. So tell you what, why don't you go and help Glenn watch his telly? I think the dancing's on in a minute.
(to Tara) I really like your coat, by the way.
(quite flattered) Thank you. Thank you.
(Tara is sharing her idea for micro banking with Fergus and Adam.)
The beauty of this model...
...um, is that micro banking can happen anywhere, okay?
Small, low-interest loans, that's the way forward.
This is terrific. I mean, it's so fucking us, it's brilliant.
(trying to calm Adam down) Adam, Adam.
Oh, don't worry, I don't mind swearing. Shows passion. I've done some community enterprise case studies. Sisters who want to set up a pop-up baker's in a disused travel agents, the boiler guy who wants to take on an apprentice.
The helping hand for hands-on people.
I like that, that's great. That's really good.
Making sure the can-doers don't get canned.
Terrific. Yeah, really good.
(Meanwhile, at Thought Camp, Peter is playing a "mind game." He has a Post-It note stuck to his head with a political issue written on it, and he has to guess what it is. He needs Mary Drake's help.)
Would I be comfortable or uncomfortable...
Yes or no questions only, please, Peter.
Would I be uncomfortable talking to Andrew Marr about this concept on the television?
You're out of questions, Peter.
(Peter finally takes the Post-It note off his head -- and then gets REALLY upset.)
Oh, for fuck's sake! Inclusivity's practically the same as Diversity!
I could be at home watching the snooker with a bottle of unpronounceable scotch. Can I sit down now? (Peter sits down) I'm sitting down, I don't care.
Actually, we can all sit down now. Thanks, Peter. Um, so take a chair 'cause Emma's going to co-steer module four with me. We're gonna do a kind of Top Trumps stats check on the PM's future enemies, yeah? Strengths, weaknesses, blocking moves and take-downs. Em.
Great. Thank you, Stewart.
(to Emma) You've turned into the wrong Mitford sister.
(Meanwhile, back at DoSAC HQ, the Banking Brainstorm continues...)
Basically, we'd set up a network of microcredit lenders at neighborhood level.
This is great. So what would it be called? Like the Citizen's Bank, or...
The Credit Fund? (correcting himself) No, no, credit's a bad word.
Negative. Something, something with "Advance..."
Although it does sound a bit like a...sperm bank. But for wee.
(Glenn is reporting the latest Tickel Watch news to Phil.)
There's a bit of a farce going on here with your Mr. Tickle. They've turned up to evict him and he's not there.
Good. Self-evicted. Gone. Problem solved. Anyway, what's going on with Fergus and Adam and the "Sexy Stranger?" She's some kind of economist, apparently.
Oh, don't be ridiculous, she's far too attractive.
You can get sexy economists. What about Stephanie Flanders on Newsnight?
Yeah, that's true. I quite like Emily Maitlis.
Really? Well, I'm sure she'd love a grey pounding.
Do you want to have an "ideagasm?"
(very much turned on) Yes, please.
Ask me how we'd initially fund this.
FAFergus & Adam
How would we initially fund this?
A one-off Robin Hood tax. Steal from the fat cats, raise enough seed capital for hundreds of start-up funds for fledgling businesses.
You know what? This could work really well for us. This, this is, yeah.
I mean, let's just talk, uh, figures. What sort of start-up capital are we talking here?
Not very much. I think we're looking at about £2 billion.
Good. Well, um...I mean, obviously, I'd have to ring the Treasury.
And twist a few arms. You know, it'll take a couple of weeks to work up, but we are extremely keen to set that process in motion.
(Stewart and his team are discussing potential new Leaders of the Opposition at Thought Camp.)
OK, let's architecturalise this, yeah?
Oh, don't bother. If it's Ben Swain, we all shout Sweaty Swain as he dehydrates himself through PMQs. Holhurst looks like a shepherd dressed up to meet the Queen, and if it's Dan Miller we're fucked.
I should tell you I do also have a meeting with Dan Miller booked in.
(suddenly concerned) What? I would just knock that right on the head. Don't -- don't do it.
Well... (awkward laughter from all 3 people) He's in opposition. We rule.
We're the rulers, we're the governors.
And, you know, in the end...this is so fucking us.
(Phil's looking up Tara Strachan's bio on his cell phone.)
Here, uh, "Tara Strachan, LSE, Harvard, author of Strapped: Why We're in Debt to Each Other, Small is Bountiful, Expert in micro-financing and community credit guilds." God, that sounds dreary.
Bloody hell, that's all Fourth Sector stuff! I mean, why have they kept me out here like a stray dog?
And why are they keeping Mannion out of it? This is-this is government business!
(Phil suddenly realizes that Adam and Fergus are working on a policy behind Peter's back. Phil runs to Fergus's office.)
Right, that's enough. Stop, stop, stop! I demand an explanation.
Sorry, Phil, we're busy. Maybe come back in, I don't know, 2017?
As Peter's representative, it's as though you lied to him. That's not good, probably illegal.
If you want to see something probably illegal, pass me that fucking stapler over there!
Er, listen, is there a problem with me being here?
Yes, you're not supposed to be here, the minister is unaware that you're here, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave.
Oh right, so she's a security risk? Oh no no no! I'd forgotten: you're not allowed within 50 feet of most women.
How do you explain this, then? (waves his arm in and out of Adam's personal space) I'm within 50 feet of you. Hahaha. You're a woman.
Oh, brilliant. That is really good.
(They stop bickering when they hear Glenn)
(offscreen) FUCK! TICKLE'S DEAD!
(Phil, Fergus and Adam run to the TV, where Glenn is watching BBC News)
Oh God, he's killed himself, suicide. He used a car exhaust.
Hey, classic: the Bohemian Rhapsody of suicide.
Oh, Phil, for fuck's sake!
(Adam doesn't like the way that Phil is handling the latest DoSAC crisis -- to say the least.)
It's like there's a little twelve-year-old boy, in a suit, with a fucking light saber in his desk - don't think I don't know it's there - running this department when Mannion's away...
No it's not! No it's not! Have you ever seen Game of Thrones Season 2?
Or Anakin Skywalker, he was young. Frodo, in his thirties, still young for a hobbit. You know, I'm in charge, because I'm a Jedi and you're a fucking Ewok!
Right. What is the Ewok position on this, then?
(Fergus, Adam, Glenn and Phil are trying to get a handle on the news of Mr. Tickel's suicide.)
The line from Stewart via Emma was that I do nothing. That was the one clear instruction they gave me, okay? We ignore him and he goes away.
Which makes him easier to ignore.
As a minister, I should at least express condolences.
(stammering) That-that-that should come from Peter.
(Terri enters the room.)
Has anyone seen my Bluetooth headset?
Look, I speak for Peter and I say that we look guilty if we say we're sorry he died.
Listen, Phil. I was a journalist, okay? Now if you don't respond, you create a vacuum that sucks in speculation, and then you can't respond. You get sucked fucking inside-out!
Look, Tickle wasn't the Queen of People's Hearts, he was a twat in a tent.
TICK-EL! HE WAS CALLED TICK-EL! WE DROVE A MAN TO HIS DEATH! WE ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!
(Fergus and Adam FINALLY come back to see Tara to tell her the good news about launching the bank.)
Great stuff, Tara. We're gonna go ahead with the bank.
(surprised) Don't you need to talk to the Treasury?
Okay, Well, um, let's talk details. When it comes to interest rates, obviously you've got...
(jokingly) Well, hey, you know, don't talk us out of it. You don't wanna do that.
(smiling) So, is-is this the green light?
(An overjoyed Tara gives both Fergus and Adam a hug, much to their surprise!)
FAFergus & Adam
Thank you.
(to Tara, walking her to the elevator) Lovely to meet you, great.
(Phil is wondering what policy Fergus, Adam, and Tara have just launched...)
What have we just green-lit?
Well, we are starting a community bank with £2 billion.
Right, is that the £2 billion we keep in the biscuit tin?
This is just great. This is just fucking great. I hang around this moral abattoir to do something exactly like this and you shut me out?
So, I'm spending my bank holiday founding a bank? I thought the point about bank holidays is that they're supposed to be shut.
