(And so, on Malcolm's say-so, Hugh and Glenn are now meeting with Mr. Roy Smedley, a special needs children expert, to discuss the inclusion of special needs kids in mainstream schools.)
But surely, Mr. Smedley, inclusion has been shown to fail the most vulnerable SEN children.
RSRoy Smedley
When inclusion's done badly, yes. Yes, uh, you're gonna get bad results. I mean, that's a given.
(wearily) Inclusion is an illusion.
Mark-Mark Ryan from the LSE was saying that when the special schools do get it right, that the parents of SEN children absolutely fucking flock to...
RSRoy Smedley
You spoke to Mark Ryan?
Yeah, well, some expert advice, so...
RSRoy Smedley
(mockingly) OK. Expert advice from Mark Ryan?
Yeah. You have a problem with Mark Ryan?
RSRoy Smedley
In educational circles, he's-he's a bit of a joke. That's another given.
(Suddenly, Hugh's computer beeps with an e-mail alert.)
(responding to the alert) Ah, sorry. It's just that I'm expecting, uh, something quite important.
Is our-Is our e-mail up and running?
No. No, no, this is my hotmail.
(to Roy Smedley) Can you-Sorry, can you excuse me just, um...
(Roy doesn't mind Hugh being a moment. BUT...Hugh sneaks over to Terri's desk computer since she's not at her desk. Hugh then sends an e-mail to Glenn...or at least who he thinks is HIS pal, Glenn Cullen. The e-mail says "Christ Alive! What a cunt !!!" While Hugh does this despicable thing, Roy continues talking to Glenn.)
RSRoy Smedley
(to Glenn) We live in an inclusive society, am I right? I mean, we-we all rub shoulders together, Mr. Cullen?
RSRoy Smedley
So let's not let the Mark Ryans of this world create...
RSRoy Smedley
...apartheid for children. The alternative is to isolate these kids in ghetto schools.
The minister won't be a moment.
(Robyn, Ollie and Terri are looking at the atrium of the new building from their floor.)
Good spot for a suicide, this, I would think: good long drop, appreciative audience.
What if you just broke your back? You know, you'd be paralysed for life and then you'd still be depressed about the thing that was depressing you in the first place.
What are these, um, hangy-down things?
Oh, they're acoustic baffles, they stop it getting too echoey in here.
So when you're breaking your back, nobody can hear you screaming?
Well, that is the kind of attention to detail that you get in a PFI building.
(spotting them from the ground floor) HEY! GET BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!
(Hugh has privately admitted to Terri that he sent the sweary email from her account.)
Now Hugh, are you going to do the right thing, are you going to admit to this publicly?
Are you – What? No! Are you mad? I can't do that, that mustn't happen! You've got – I need you, to –
I think it was Derrida who said there is no such thing as actual empirical truth, but only –
Yeah, I'll tell you what Derrida said, he said, 'Go fuck your face, Abbot!'
(Terri tries to storm out of the door, but only belatedly notices the exit switch)
You need to mind your language, it just will keep getting you into trouble.
(finally opening the door) I can't even get out the fucking room! (storms out)
(Hugh and Glenn return from their Education Select Committee appearance.)
I lied to the Select Committee. I lied! Is Tucker in the building?
It's just what they're calling him now, 'cause he can stand in the middle of the atrium and just shout at all the departments.
Well I don't want to see him, not at the moment, I can't take one of his scenes from The Exorcist just now.
Look, I don't think Ballentine's on to anything.
Oh no? No? Well, why did she keep asking, 'Just one expert? Only one? Not two experts? Less than three but not two?' The fucking bitch.
It's her style, look, she's just trying to throw you off balance like a sumo wrestler.
Well it worked: there I was on the floor in a big fucking nappy.
(to Terri) God, right, okay, well, seein' as you're not used to this, I'll go through it for you, okay? What happens at a press conference is this. A bunch of press people are gonna appear, they've got things called cameras and microphones and mobile phones and hangovers and bad breath. Then you are gonna walk out and you're gonna read from what we call a "prepared statement". In that you will say, "I'm really fucking sorry for sounding like a hairy-arsed docker after twelve pints. I promise that I will never call an 8-year-old girl a cunt again. Can we now just draw a line over this, and fucking move on. Thank you". Everybody goes home and then we wait and we see what happens. The best case is you get to keep your job, although you will forever be known as the Sweary Woman of Whitehall.
(deleted scene)
Ollie (on the phone to a man he can see in a glass office): Yes, but you can't just dump rabies on us because you don't want it. You're Health, that's your job! You should have rabies. Health should have rabies, right? (sees the man mime fellatio) Oh right, yeah, fine. OK. So we're gonna have to swallow this one, but if we have to deal with a rabies outbreak we're gonna do it so fucking well, you're gonna be frothing at the mouth – yeah, twice! (hangs up) You prick!
(deleted scene)
First day back from holiday, tanned, tawdry and cheap. I feel like something out of Footballers' Wives.
How do you know about Footballers' Wives?
Ollie told me. They all live in Chelmsford, have names like Madison and Chutney, they're an orange colour and they've got thongs up their cracks.
(In the opening scene of this episode, Ollie Reeder and his girlfriend, Emma Messenger, are walking down the street together in the morning. Ollie and Emma are on opposite sides of the British political spectrum. Nevertheless, the two of them are enjoying some good-natured banter talking about their party leaders.)
I'm extremely impressed. I'm highly impressed that you're going to see the leader of your party.
EMEmma Messenger
Good. You should be impressed.
Although, ultimately, the leader of your party is just a man, really, isn't he? He's just a guy.
Ah, now that's a good point, actually, because yours on the other hand is...
...the leader of the country also. What I'm saying is if we were playing Top Trumps, which we kind of are...
Oh, cor, we absolutely are, Ollie.
Right. So it's Ben Swain Day today, is it?
Yes. A Nutter in our midst. A junior minister for me to push around, you know. That's nice, isn't it? A bit more power for me.
You are an extremely powerful man, Ollie.
Very powerful, very attractive sexually, due to all this power.
(As Ollie and Emma get to Government Headquarters, they are met up with Malcolm and Jamie.)
Hey, dickhead! Happy New Queer!
I'm really sorry, but I – don't be so offensive. I do apologise for my friend's behaviour. Did you have a nice Poof-mas?
What are you two, um, doing round Richmond Terrace then?
Oh, we're slumming it. Just going to see Julius, the big baldy ballbag. (to Emma) You must be, you, what is it? Gemma? Gemma?
(to Ollie) What are you doing down here?
I'm babysitting Ben Swain for the day.
Could you water my spider plants in my office as well? (to Emma) He's very good with the watering can. Very very bright lad. Homemaker.
(And with that, Ollie and Emma share a rather awkward goodbye -- WITH NO KISS!)
Yeah, see you later. (Ollie rushes inside to catch up with Jamie and Malcolm.)
(Malcolm and Jamie are busting Ollie's chops about his relationship with Emma.)
(to Ollie) So, the girlfriend, she-she doesn't mind the whole, uh, you being gay thing?
(to Ollie) Did you take her home for Christmas?
No. God, no. I couldn't do that.
Oh no, you couldn't do that, 'cause she wouldn't fit in. 'Cause you're that right dyed-in-the-wool working class, aren't you? She's probably allergic to pit ponies.
(In this scene, Peter Mannion, the Leader of the Opposition, is having a chat with his adviser, Phil Smith. As they're entering Opposition Headquarters, Peter and Phil are discussing Emma's relationship with Ollie...and Phil just happens to be Emma's roommate.)
Are they actually sleeping together?
Do you think she's on top or, what-what do you hear?
Well, I hear her say, "How do you like it?" And he'll say, "I've got to page Tucker."
Oh, God. (beat) Have I shaved properly? It's just we're-we're having the bathroom done and I was in the kitchen this morning using the kettle as a mirror.
No, you're very smooth. So it's a chrome kettle, then?
You've been watching CSI again, haven't you?
(As Peter and Phil are walking up the stairs, they are joined by Emma, who is also Peter's advisor.)
(to Emma) Oh, hello. How was sleeping with the enemy?
(sarcastically) Oh, hilarious. I forgot how funny you were.
(The three of them are nearing the office...)
(to Emma) What time are you seeing Stewart?
It'll be in about half an hour. What about you?
(groaning) Oh, I'll be last in. He's punishing me for standing against JB in the leadership contest by putting me in the Ryanair queue.
Come on, he got you that terrific photo op with the, uh, wind turbine thing on your house, remember?
Yes, and it cost me 12 grand. And I have to pay for the electricity bill to keep the bugger turning because, of course, there's no wind in the valley, I have to plug it in. But my next door neighbor has an England flag that just hangs there limply while my turbine mysteriously whizzes around.
Could turn the turbine round so it blows his flag.
(Peter, Emma and Phil finally sit down.)
Right. What's up first, then, Peter?
While we're here, we could bat a few ideas around.
He wants something fluffy for the speech, does he? Environment? Tax breaks for aromatherapists? SatNav for asylum seekers?
Well, I was thinking about a departmental blog.
(groaning again) Oh, God. Really?
I could actually do the..the writing bit of it, because you wouldn't have time.
Well, I mean, I might as well, I've knack all else to do. (Peter turns to Phil) Though, um...to be honest, you-you sort it out.
I thought we could have like a guest book so that, kind of, you know, readers can kind of leave their comments.
(to Emma) Are you sure? Have you ever Googled your own name? It's like opening a door to a room where everyone tells you how shit you are.
(Malcolm, Jamie and Ollie are walking up the stairs to the offices at Government HQ, discussing Ben Swain.)
(to Ollie) Where's My Little Phony? Ben Swain. What's his Newsnight angle gonna be, then?
Ben? Ben is going on Newsnight?
(chuckling) Oh, you're a right little West Winger, you, aren't you? They're cutting you out of the loop already?
Well, I'll check who the presenter is and obviously...
The presenter is Newsbot 3.2. He's a nobody. He's a fucking scorch mark.
Paxo's in Kenya fly-fishing with Stephen Fry or whatever the fuck it is he does. Kirsty is sobering up in Kilmarnock with her gran, so she's out of the picture.
Well, I'll just check the lines with Pat Morrissey, then. And then we'll...
Yeah. Pat and, uh, Communications have asked that everything be double-ticked through her from now. (to Malcolm) I mean, you get a tick as well. Obviously.
(sarcastically) Oh well, well obviously! Yes, that's-that's very very nice and that's very fucking big of them! I get a tick!
So I mean, it's, it's two ticks for a, uh, a green light, basically, that's the system.
(beside himself) Pat Morrissey. Communications is full of Nutters these days.
Soon as the PM said he'd be gone inside a year, the Nutters start popping up like mela-fucking-noma.
(to Ollie) See you later. See you in a tick.
(to Ollie) What about you? You're not a Nutter, are you?
I-I'm not a Nutter, Jamie. I'm...I'm a nipper.
(Ollie then bumps into Terri.)
Hi, Ollie, Happy New Year!
Yeah, I know, yeah. Six pairs of socks, three Harry Potter omnibuses. All that "I thought you were taking the giblets out. Don't give Nan any more Baileys. She's only got the one pad with her." (Ollie follows Terri into an office.) Every bloody year.
Yeah, well, you know, just me and Mum in the care home.
Right. Jesus...So, eh, Ben on Newsnight?
Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?
Yeah, yeah. Oh, God, thank God you didn't know, either. I thought it was just me.
Oh no no no. I did know about that, actually.
Well, why did you say it like that, then? "Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?"
You're just out of the loop. I'm very well wired into the Tommists.
(laughing) Nobody calls them Tommists. They're Nutters, Terri. Nobody calls them Tommists.
(dead serious) I don't like that word. My sister works in mental health.
