(Malcolm and his lawyer are trying to get out of Brentford Police Station. They come across a policeman escorting a prisoner.)
'Scuse me, is there another way out of here?
PPrisoner
You could hang yourself.
Fuck off!
Series 4, Episode 7
(Malcolm and his lawyer are running away from reporters to their taxi, but it drives off)
HEY! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE! (the taxi stops and they get in) Jesus Christ! Go! Go go go! (the taxi drives off) You fucking drive off like that again, and I'll stick your meter so far down your throat you'll be able to tell the price of your next shit.
Come out, everyone! Tally-ho, yoo-hoo! Come on, bring out your fucking dead! Right, everybody listen, I've got an announcement to make, erm...
What is it, you got an erection?
No. I would like to tell you all that I'm resigning!
Is that it?
No, you closeted Regency homosexual, that is not it. Morally, this department is in the gutter!
Thanks for the speech, Glenn, but we have work –
(grabs a desktop lamp) YOU STAY AND TAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT! I will lamp you, with a lamp!
Glenn, you've gone a tiny bit psychotic, my love.
(puts down the lamp) You, Fergus, when you asked me to join you, all you had was your principles, but over the last two years, you've bent like a human fucking palm tree, swaying to the guff of these six-toed born-to-rule pony-fuckers.
If you're gonna go, just go. Spare us this Peter Finch bullshit.
Oh! Adam, you're waiting for your turn! Oh no! I remember, it's your turn right now!
Brilliant. Bring it.
You are simply the most loathsome human being I have ever met.
Yep.
You were so well-suited at the Mail, it's a shame you came over here!
Hear, hear! (she and Phil clap)
Do you know what? I hate you both: Tweedle-twat and Tweedle-prick! You contribute absolutely nothing to the world, so thank fucking God you have no power!
Er, we do actually, it's –
No, you don't. And Peter: it's been dreadful. I hope your cock falls off. Phil, do you know what you are? You're like an eight-year-old trapped in a twelve-year-old's body.
(gleefully) This is great! Why isn't anyone filming this?
And Emma.
Yeah, yeah, do Emma, do Emma!
Yeah, Emma, I'm sorry, you're just a standard-issue insipid posh bitch. That's it! (Emma smiles and shrugs slightly) Terri? (takes a pair of scissors)
Oh, whoa, whoa.
I don't think I've ever met anyone quite so proud, and yet quite so useless. But I do have to thank you, (takes his pass and cuts it up) because I have managed to stay in shape, purely though the energy I spend in pitying you every day!
Glenn, you're just embarrassing yourself.
Fuck you all up the wrong 'un! Ta ta! Bye bye! (leaves)
That was better than IMAX Inception.
Poor, poor Glenn!
Should we try and get him back?
Fuck, no. He's gone completely mental!
He's gone Glenn-tal.
(As the Team DoSAC Coalition is celebrating Malcolm's arrest -- with some booze, no less -- Mary Drake returns with some big news.)
MMary
(to Peter) Drinking on the job, Peter? Why not? You've already got the efficiency of a man who's half cut.
Oh, then I must have dreamt that, uh, my idea had successfully reduced the arrest backlog?
MMary
DoSAC did do rather well today, uh, actually.
Thank you.
MMary
But there's a conspicuous blockage that will lead to a personnel change.
(Mary then turns to Stewart, who's sitting on the floor.)
MMary
(to Stewart) Stewart. You're out. You're gonna be pickled in a think tank.
What?
(scoffing) Of course I am, Mary. And whose authority is this coming from, hmm?
MMary
The PM, whilst acknowledging the need for thoughts, is keener on actions these days. I'm gonna be providing those. Stewart, there's no need for you to clear your desk, because you're a walking thought pod, aren't you?
(calm, but clearly unhappy) Absolutely. Thank you very much...Thanks, um...
(But then, Stewart launches one last razor sharp parting shot.)
You know, I've spent ten years detoxifying this party, hmmm? It's been a bit like renovating an old, old house, yeah? You can take out a sexist beam here, a callous window there, replace the odd homophobic roof tile. (finally gets up) But after a while, you realise that this renovation is doomed. Because the foundations are built on what I can only describe as a solid bed of cunts.
(This is the show's closing line.)
What a shit day!
These quotes come from Wikiquote's The Thick Of It pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.