Malcolm (seeing Ben's empty desk): Oh I'm sorry, I can come back if you're – I didn't realise you were so fucking busy.
Well, I could do some work, but you know what, we're still gonna lose.
Hey hey hey. Don't be so grim, you big quim. You are the future of this party, yeah? You are the next generation.
And you're in its past, I mean – I don't really know why you're still here, Malcolm.
I just want to see this thing turn around, right? I can't leave while we're getting fucked in the polls, and we're getting fucked consistently and repeatedly like a horse in the fucking Hebrides.
All very original observations, Malcolm MacIntucker, but what's the solution?
And challenge her for the leadership?
Ah, no. No, that would be petty and self-interested. No. You are doing this for the greater good of the party. As Deputy Leader, Dan Miller will take over, and he can be anointed at a later date.
So, you want me to stick my cock in a fan so that Dan Miller can become the next Prime Minister? Well fuck you very much, Malcolm. What do I get out of this?
I would not ask you to do this for nothing, would I?
I'm asking you, because you're a big fucking beast. Which is why, when you come back, it'll be as Foreign Secretary.
And you mean Foreign Secretary, that isn't code for, like, Northern Ireland, I'm not fucking going there.
This is the proper Foreign Secretary, with all the perks. Fuck-off breakfasts at Dubai hotels. Tours of secret Russian sex yachts.
All right! All right, I'll do it. And you know what? I'd have done it for a lot less.
I'd have done it just to see the look on Nicola's face.
Oh. I've underestimated you.
(quite proud of himself) You have been out-maneuvered by a player. It happens.
Yeah, well...didn't used to.
(Glenn Cullen is visiting Ollie Reeder in the hospital)
(to Glenn) So go on, then. How's life in Nazi HQ? Is it fun collaborating?
Oh, don't start all that again. I got into government by accident.
Speaking of which, how is Terri?
She's entering her dog for Britain's Got Talent.
(Ollie lets out a big laugh)
(to Ollie) Look, what's the matter with you anyway? Please tell me you're looking for a bone marrow donor and that I'm your only hope. The answer would be no, by the way.
Bad luck. No, it's an appendix out. Well, I hope it is. Since your lot took over the NHS, everything's a fucking adventure, isn't it?
Look, all this is incredibly entertaining, Ollie. But you called me over in my lunch hour, and as you're fond of saying, I don't have many of them left.
So you know all this stuff with Mr. Tickle?
Yeah. Mr. Sad is actually very very sad about it.
Yes. Mr. Happy, on the other hand: fucking delighted!
Yeah? Mr. Stoic's taking it on the chin.
Yes! Mr. Milk-it says we should probably stop this now.
Nicola (returning to her seat): Right, wee mission accomplished.
Actually, having an accurate wee into a moving train toilet would make a great round on The Cube with Phillip Schofield.Glenn (entering the toilet): Ollie, come on, this is my shittiest lunch break I've had since Stewart took us all out for sushi.
Patience, old man, and you can watch the fuckpuppet master at work now. (calls Ben) Ben Swain! Benign tumour, Bental illness!
Ol– Oliver Cyst, Olivetti – Spaghet– I don't really have time for chit-chat, Ollie.
Are you resigning, mate, are you dropping the R-bomb? Benola Gay? I'm not just, er, talking about the rumours.
Let's just say it is time to prepare the hidey-hole for Madame Hussein, her reign of error is over.
And out of interest, Ben, what would it take to stop you from resigning?
Why, what's Nicola offering?
All right. Shadow Chancellor.
(Ollie laughs. Glenn barely stops himself from doing so as well.)
Ah, you still got it, Benny.
I'm serious, stop fucking laughing.
All right, I'll call you back. (hangs up)
This is a fucking joke! Ben Swain, Chancellor? He goes into debt every time he passes a sweet shop!
Malcolm (answering his phone): What have you got for me, Professor Brian Cock?
Ben small-balled it. Nicola's offered him Shadow Chancellor, he's not resigning.
Christ in a diamond heist, the dopey fucking bollard. Right, how are you getting on with the old man from Up?
(Glenn is waiting outside the toilet)
Yeah, you know, getting there.
Well, get a move on. I want him leaking like Cliff Richard out jogging.
Right. OK. I'll be right on it. (hangs up)
Malcolm (entering Ben's office): Oh, here she is. Pippa Middleton, trying to steal the limelight with your peachy little arse. Right, where are we?
Well, I've just offered Ben here Deputy Leadership of the party.
I don't want it. I want Chancellor.
Malcolm (surprised): Chancellor? Of the United Kingdom?
Yeah, it's what Nicola's offering me.
Are you sure about this Ben, how's your economics?
What, you're a PPE-er guy?
No, History of Art, but –
Oh right, so you are confident that one day you will be able to shepherd this country out of one of the darkest economic periods in its entire fucking art history?
Look, at the moment, I hold all the cards, including the card that tells you how to play, so – so it's over. The fat lady's singing.
No she's not. The fat man from the GoCompare adverts is talking.
This is tiger-by-the-tail time and I'm loving it, loving it, loving it!
Oh, in that case you leave me no option, Ben, I'm gonna have to say yes.
Oh, Chumba-fucking-wamba! Then I resign on the dotted line.
Can you give us a minute, Ben, please? Dan and I need to talk some strategy.
Might head in the direction of confection; any snack-age, anyone?
(Ben leaves)
No, of course it's not for real, Malcolm. I'm offering him Chancellor, but I might as well be offering him bass player in The Wurzels, because that burly haemorrhoid's getting nowhere near any fucking cabinet of mine.
Good, so how are you gonna shaft him?
That's not my problem. That's your problem, Malcolm.
Right, so this is a little test, is it, you're weighing my balls?
(Dan nods and smiles.)
Oh, he'll be back. Like the shit Terminator. (Ben returns) There he is.
I hereby tweet, 'I have resigned. More to follow.' Didn't seem that momentous.
How many followers have you got?
Christ, well let's hope it gets retweeted, otherwise you might as well just whisper it to a fucking dead tramp.
(Ben is preparing for his big announcement, but first, Malcolm wants to show Ben something on his cell phone.)
These phones are amazing, aren't they? I've got an application here that can throw grenades into people's dreams.
Is that your suit with the reinforced trouser arse on it, yeah?
Ha, very funny. What, a joke that I'm going to shit myself?
No, it's because you're gonna need it for the 10 years you're gonna be sitting on the back benches. The e-mail trail about the key worker housing clearly shows that you, Benjamin Trevor Swain, were gleefully in favor of it, just like Nicola.
There you go. Break a leg, love. And your neck and your wrist. It doesn't really matter.
(Meanwhile, Nicola and Helen are on a train back to London, when Nicola realizes...)
I never act on impulse. I'm so not impulsive. And Malcolm made me do it now, fuck!
Launching this inquiry may prove to be misguided in that I now recall I may have fleetingly supported the policy myself.
(in disbelief) So you've essentially launched an investigation into yourself.
You've met Malcolm. I would've said that it was ethically bad.
I'll tell you what you said, just give me a minute. (Helen scoffs) Brilliant. Courtesy of the Telegraph website. You said, "Great revenue raiser, but I'm afraid it's a no-no because of my bloody husband." I'm sorry. Why would you do that?
You remember all your e-mails, do you, that you sent three years ago? Because from what I understand from Ollie, a large number of them were sent to that married producer on the Daily Politics.
Ollie is a fucking...because...He was supposed to leave her and...
(Helen wants to come up with a better rescue plan.)
Okay, while we're on our way back to London, maybe we should make a list of the things, you know, you're for and against. Let's start with something simple. Animals in circuses?
Tell you what. Why don't you make the little list and shove it up your tight, cold arse? I just need to stare.
Right, come on, folks, gather round, grab your cheesy nachos and your fucking vuvuzelas: this is what we've all been waiting for, it's the Queen's fucking speech.
(A few moments later, as Nicola begins her resignation speech...)
Come on, this is fucking history in the making, right, this is the ending of a chapter of a very thin book that nobody enjoyed reading.
(Dan enters the room as Nicola concludes her speech.)
And here he is, the anointed one!
(Malcolm leads the room in applause)
Oh – please, please, I'm not Christ. He was quite a scruffy man.
(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.
