(Glenn and Ollie are in Nicola's office, trying to give her tips on how to deal with Malcolm. But before they can do so...Malcolm walks in.)
(entering the office) Is this the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency?
Malcolm Tucker! The real deal. Hello.
(Malcolm and Nicola shake hands.)
(to Nicola, smiling) The real deal. Good to see you. You're looking great! (to Glenn and Ollie) All right, Hinge and Bracket, time to go and hang up your lady-cocks.
(Glenn and Ollie leave, and Malcolm continues his conversation with Nicola.)
Nicola Murray! Here you are, Secretary of State for the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship.
Yep, I now have one of the longest job titles in Western politics. Thank God I don't have to wear a lapel badge.
It's a pity that we couldn't just make an abbreviation of it, you know, like PFI. Which I think stands for Pretty Fucking Imbarrassing. If you're a bit sloppy about the details, which clearly your fucking husband is.
Okay, look, James works for Albany, fine. He wasn't even working there when the contract was awarded.
(smiling) Don't worry, don't worry. That was just me, that was...
(getting the joke) Okay, right. Fine.
(serious again) I mean, that's the sort of thing the press will throw at you. I mean, you step out of line, they'll be all over you like a pigeon on a chip, you know? Is that your chair?
Oh God, yeah. It's cool, isn't it? It's got, um, lumbar support.
Bin it. People don't like their politicians to be comfortable. They don't like you having expenses. They don't like you being paid. They'd rather you lived in a fucking cave.
Ok, fine. So, uh, what should I be sitting on? Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?
A fucking normal chair, right? Not a fucking massive vibrating throne.
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