Malcolm [in his office, on his mobile]: Hi Tom, what can I do for you? [beat] Well, I-I didn't know what he was doing with his flat – I told him that fucking flat w– Well, they're not running with this – No, well, I know, he's got-he's got an interview now with that-that-that Angela Heaney, you know, the twat bubble from the Standard – Fuck, she's just gone to the Mail. I'm onto it. [Malcolm hangs up and leaves his office.]
Series 1, Episode 3
[After a LOT of running, Malcolm finally arrives at the floor where Hugh is talking to Angela Heaney.]
WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?!?
He's in the goldfish bowl!
Fuck...!
[Hugh is still talking to Angela.]
No, no. Look, I'm very glad you brought that up, because that -- gives me...that gives me the opportunity to...Sorry...I...[Hugh's looking at Malcolm through the 'goldfish bowl'] Just mucking about...Um...
I have always maintained very clearly...
[opening the door] Hi, Angela. Sorry, sorry, sorry, can I just borrow the Minister for a moment?
Sure. Sorry, be right back with you.
[Barely audible, outside the 'goldfish bowl' where Angela was interviewing Hugh...]
[to Hugh] They're running about your fucking flat, I fucking told you about that. How the fuck did you think it was gonna run, you STUPID CUNT?! How am I supposed to control what's going on if I don't know WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! YOU'RE A FUCKING PRICK! AN ABSOLUTE CUNT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?!
[While Malcolm is still yelling at Hugh, Terri opens the door to the "Goldfish Bowl." She comes in and offers to get Angela some goodies]
Angela, can I get you a fresh cup of coffee?
No, I'm fine, thanks.
Um, would you like some tea?
Nope, nope.
No biscuits or anything?
No.
Do let me know if you need anything else.
I will. Thanks very much.
[to Hugh] GET BACK IN THERE AND WRAP THIS BULLSHIT UP!
[Hugh re-enters the 'goldfish bowl'...]
Ah. Hah! Bit of a disagreement.
Blimey.
Yeah. Um, could you...I'm just curious, could you hear? Because we were actually...We can be quite brutal to each other, because we're actually very, very good, good friends.
Right.
[Moments later, Malcolm is in Hugh's office, arguing with Glenn and Ollie over the scandal involving Hugh and his flat.]
[to Glenn] You haven't been accepting any offers?
NO!
Jesus...
Well, that wasn't the point! The whole deal was we put the flat on the market so if the press are asking us, we say, "Fuck off, he's selling it!" They'll go away and then, you know, Hugh's got a place in town!
[to Ollie] What the fuck is your girlfriend doing hitting us with this, huh?
Well, she's not my girlfriend, Malcolm. So I've no idea.
Oh, well you won't mind if I kill her then, will you?
It'd solve a lot of issues for me, to be honest with you.
Hey! Hey hey hey, if you could sweet-talk that sour-faced bitch into dropping us you'd be sweet to me, you'd be very very sweet –
If I could sweet-talk that sour-faced bitch into anything I would have had a more comfortable four months –
Yeah well, I'll just have to kill the both of you then, won't I?
Yeah, well.
That's a joke, by the way, not a very nice one, a nasty one which masks a lot of very negative feelings about this fucking department.
[Malcolm's cell phone rings...]
[looking at his phone] Oh, Jesus. Tom Davies. [answering] Tom! Hello, how are you? Yes. No no, he was already there when I got there, he was talking to her. [Malcolm leaves Hugh's office.]
[Hugh re-enters the office as he and his team try to create an emergency strategy of sorts.]
What is happening?
What the hell was that?
What is happening? That was supposed-that was supposed to be a nice interview.
[to Hugh] What on Earth did you say to her?
I think-I think I denied being a racist. I hope so.
[to Hugh] You didn't say that you have lots of black friends, you didn't go...
Of course not. Well, I haven't-I haven't got any.
What did you say about the offers?
[stammering] I-I-I said I wasn't, I wasn't...someone else was handling the sale and I wasn't aware of any offers.
Hugh?
Hmm?
Did you mention me by name?
[still stammering] Um, possibly -- No, I-I don't think -- I-I may in between denying racism, possibly have, yes.
[displeased] Thank you. Thank you very much. Thanks a fucking bunch!
[Terri enters the office.]
OK, so what's the line on this then?
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. What is-what is the line on this?
[to Hugh, still upset] I don't know! Don't look at me!
But we need to have a line on this.
[Malcolm re-enters the office with some surprise news.]
OK, we've got movement, we got a break.
What? What? What?
The flat's sold.
[in disbelief] WHAT?
To the Asian family, for 40 grand below the asking price. But that's alright.
Jesus!
WHAT IS HAPPENING?!
Malcolm?
Yeah?
We're too late.
What?
All the papers have got a hold of it. The Express has been making offers on it, at the asking price and also £30,000 more.
[stunned] Jesus...
Haven't been accepted.
We've got to stall.
This is madness! I just own a flat, I haven't raped somebody!
[on her cell phone] Yeah, they're calling the scandal "Flatgate."
Scandal?!
[whispering to Terri] Flatgate?!
Well, that's crap. It's a crap name for a scandal.
They should call it "Notting Hill Gate-gate."
Can we at least stop calling it a scandal?
[to Terri, unamused] Are you joking? Are you joking now?
[leaving the office] On my way to stall.
Yeah, get stalling.
[A moment of silence...and then...]
Maybe we can just blame it all on Terri.
That is an option, isn't it?
[The next day, Hugh is in Malcolm's office...arguing about "Flatgate."]
It's a flat!
It is a second home! In a borough with thousands of homeless people that you have kept more or less empty for ages! Have you not read your own Housing Bill, for God's sake?
It wasn't-I only kept it empty for a little while to see my bloody family. Obviously, on reflection, I should have filled it with prostitutes and, and rent boys and crack cocaine pimp tattoo freaks.
Thanks to Dan Miller and his like, the Housing Bill is a success, but this is burying the whole thing!
Well, what do you want me to do? Resign? [Malcolm stares at him] No, no! No, that is – I'm not going over this.
The way out of this situation is for you to –
This is madness, Malcolm, this desire for perfection, that – I am not perfect, I am just a person, right? I need to sleep, I need to eat, occasionally I need to take a dump. So, I mean, what's next, I mean, do we put that on the evening news, on the front page? "Minister is disgusting defecation outburst". Mollie Sugden at Number 10: "Did you enjoy your shit, Mr Abbot?" They should just clone ministers, you know, so we're born at 55, with no past, and no flats, and no genitals. Just a world of robots in a sort of – It's like a futuristic film, and you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? You'd be in your little space station surrounded by obedient androids, like that fucking brushed-aluminium Dan Miller cyber-prick!
It is possible to have a good resignation, you know!
"A good resignation"?! Oh, I'm looking forward to how you're gonna sell this to me!
Look, people really like it when you go just a bit early! You know, steely-jawed, faraway look in your eyes! Before they're getting to the point when they're sitting round in the pub saying "Oh, that fucker's got to go", you surprise them! "Blimey, he's gone! I didn't expect that! Resigned? You don't see that much anymore! Old school! Respect! I rather liked the guy! He was hounded out by the fucking press!" How about that, huh?! What a way to go, yeah?!
You know, I'm just the counter man in McDonald's, I'm not that important, frankly; you're the clown running the shop, you're the one that they want to see strung up from a lamppost by his fucking wig.
What does that make me?
Ronald McDonald.
Well, fuck off!
"Department of Social Affairs", Department of Fucking Shocking, Shitty, Charlatan, Shits! That's what – [to Ollie] Feet off the furniture, you Oxbridge twat! You're no' on a punt now.
Hugh [to Dan Miller]: I've missed my ideal resigning point. With every day I delay, it's another year before I can get back again. If I had resigned the day I was appointed, I'd actually be Prime Minister by now.
Series 2, Episode 1
(Ollie has had sex with Emma. And he realizes the whole office knows about it -- much to his dismay.)
Terri, is, uh -- (Ollie instead sees Robyn Murdoch.) Oh, hello, Robyn. Where's Terri? Is she not...
(smiling) Well, morning, Mr. Lover-Loverman!
Does -- Does nobody else ever shag anybody else in Westminster?
(pretending to be seductive) Hey, Horatio! (beat) How's it hanging?
It's hanging fine.
Sleeping with the opposition, I hear, hey?
Not all of them.
What do they do? Do they keep a tight hold on the fiscal, um, the fiscal, you know, um...
Scrotum? What? What?
(beside himself) Shagging the opposition. Never would have happened in my day.
Well, she's not my opposite number, Glenn. 'Cause Levitt has gone to Shadow Defence, so she's doing Shadow Defence, so she's no longer Social Affairs, so...
Did you manage to do some good while you were there and steal a few policy papers?
It's hard to know why you're so unsuccessful with the opposite sex. I'll tell you what, though...
Where the fuck's Terri?
Oh, Terri. Did you not know?
No.
Malcolm's, um...
Malcolm's what?
Binned her. She's gone.
You're jo...
(At this moment, Hugh enters the office -- and even HE knows about Ollie's night of romance with Emma!)
(to Ollie) Morning, studmuffin. Enjoy your walk on the wild side? How was your dip in the wild blue – pussy?
Hugh, I have some wonderful news for you. Terri's gone.
What?
Terri. Terri's gone.
What do you mean "gone?"
Uh, yeah. A resignation bluff that went awry.
(very happy) NO! YES! OH, RESULT! WHOO! WHOO! ALL RIGHT! COME ON! HIGH FIVE!
(But Robyn comes into the office to deliver some sad news about Terri's father.)
(to Hugh) Secretary of State, um, just to let you know, Terri's father's, uh, had a stroke. It's pretty serious, um, so she's gonna be gone quite awhile.
(much more sympathetic) I'm...Oh dear, that's awful. I'm so sorry.
(Malcolm and his second-in-command, Jamie, are having a good, lively talk while walking to Malcolm's office.)
Where's Neil?
Leicester, poor fucker. You'd think that once you'd achieved a certain status, you might have been excused visiting Leicester, wouldn't you?
Have you seen the whips' numbers?
NoMFuP.
Eh?
NoMFuP, N-O-M-F-P, Not My Fucking Problem – I quite liked that, did you like that?
Yeah, it's very good.
I think I'll use that quite a lot today.
I'll use it as well.
(Malcolm spots a journalist he's very happy with for doing a good profile on a government Minister.)
(to the journalist) OH HO HO! Well done with Fatty's profile. Very very good. I nearly liked the enormous fucker reading it.
(Malcolm and Jamie continue their conversation.)
What if the MOD breaks tonight? What I'm hearing is the overspend's getting more brutal by the hour. (Both men enter Malcolm's office.) They're talking about topping off at one-one and a half billion. Obviously, that's a lot of nurses.
Or one fantastically enormous robotic one, yeah?
Obviously, yeah.
And how's the Minister?
He's shitting himself. (laughs) He's practically kissing his driver goodbye. He said he felt like he was "in the Twin Towers on 9/11, just fucking waiting."
Oh, for fuck's sake. But everybody knows their lines, yeah? IT projects always overspend.
Oh, yeah, yeah.
(Malcolm's loyal personal assistant, Sam, enters the office. She has some papers for Malcolm to look over and sign.)
(to Sam) Do you think you could manage to get me a decent cup of tea? Would that be possible?
(Sam readily agrees.)
Thank you. Try not to drip in it.
(After Sam leaves the office, Malcolm continues his chat with Jamie.)
(to Jamie) I tell you the thing that's worrying me is, er – is this dodgy?
I don't know. The kid's firm was the second lowest bid. He says they never talked. What does it matter?
No, but you know me, I'm a man of principle.
Oh, I know.
I like to know whether I'm lying to save the skin of a tosser or a moron.
Probably a moron.
(Ollie is preparing for his trip to Number 10 in Hugh's office.)
(looking at Ollie's cell phone) Is this yours? Is this new?
Uh, yeah. I thought I'd get it for Number 10.
It's got a camera on it?
Yeah. Yeah, it's on the back.
(to Glenn) Happy slap him. Go on.
(to Hugh) How do you know about happy slapping? How do you begin to know about...
(But before Ollie could finish the question, Glenn gives Ollie a "Happy Slap" upside the head!)
(to Glenn) Get off!
(to Glenn) Hang on, I missed it. No, will you do it again?
(to Hugh) That's assault.
(Glenn happy slaps Ollie again.)
(to Glenn) Get off, will you?
(to Ollie) No, listen, it's all right, we can doctor the crime figures.
(to Ollie) I really like this!
(to Glenn) I'll punch you in your substantial gut.
(And then, Robyn gives Ollie a happy slap, too!)
(to Robyn) Fucking hell, Robyn! You little fucker!
(Hugh and Glenn are laughing at Ollie's expense. Then, after the laughter dies down, the 2 of them decide to take a selfie of themselves on Ollie's cell phone.)
(to Hugh) We should take one of us, so he's got something to remember us by.
(Glenn takes the pic.)
(to Hugh) Because, you know, at the end of the week, you're gonna be head of the Policy Unit.
Yeah, then you'll both be out.
Giving head to the Policy Unit.
(to Hugh) Hugh, can we, uh, do the prep for the factory visit now?
Yeah.
We're gonna get there at about 12, 12:30, okay?
Forgot the, um...
(Ollie picks up something from Hugh's desk -- and then gives Glenn a happy slap upside his head! Then, Ollie leaves.)
(annoyed) Stupid boy.
That was funny.
That was funny?
Yeah.
I don't think it was funny.
I'm an elected representative of the people.
Yes?
It was funny.
(As Ollie is waiting outside Malcolm's office, Malcolm is yelling out for Sam again.)
SAM!
(Sam comes toward Malcolm's office.)
Sam, a coffee and a fucking skinny muffin, if that's possible. (Malcolm then sees Ollie.) What the fuck are you doing here?
I thought you said today, Malcolm. Did you not say...
I mean what are you doing there? Come on!
All right, sorry. I just didn't want to interrupt you, I never know what you're doing in your –
Yeah, well if the PM's giving me a blowjob I always put a sign up.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's The Thick Of It pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.