(Malcolm has to restart the conversation with Nicola and Terri in Nicola's office.)
(to Terri) Terri, I fucking e-mailed you and I told you to move it to later, because I wanted to administer a preparatory fucking verbal cosh. Right?
Well...
And there it is. (Malcolm is looking at the e-mail on his cell phone.) It didn't fuck -- It didn't fucking send!
Ah!
It didn't send, right?
There you go. You just owe me an apology, that's all.
(insulted) I'm sorry?
That's the one.
That wasn't an apology. That was a "pardon?" I'm sorry.
(to Malcolm) Why aren't you on the Tom tour, by the way?
Yeah, I heard Steve Fleming was on the tour. Hmm. Big beast.
Tiny fucking rodent, more like. He's part of the larger problem.
Which is?
(to Nicola) Have you been at Number 10 lately? Jesus, it's like the break-up of the Beatles, right? During the fall of the Roman Empire, while fucking Jordan's getting divorced from that bloke. All happening at the same time in a tiny fucking terraced house, yeah? Anyway, this interview, right?
Mmm-hmm.
How'd it go?
(stuttering) It-It-It's a small...
(At this moment, Terri's cell phone rings...)
(to Malcolm) Sorry, Malcolm. Can I? Sorry.
(While Terri leaves Nicola's office to take the call, Nicola continues talking to Malcolm.)
(to Malcolm) They wanted to talk Tom, and, uh, I said that he was the best man for the job.
Yeah, well, so what? I mean, it's the BBC. It's not fucking Spare Rib, is it?
I-I thought it might sound like I thought I was the best woman for the job.
Listen, Nicola, no offense, but you're not leadership material, yeah? I mean, fucking curtain material in that outfit, but you know.
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