(Malcolm and Steve continue their unfriendly chat in an office.)
You were asked to leave the fucking band. And you wouldn't fucking go, would you? You had to hang on in there, like a limpet up a whale's arse.
Why do you thrive so much on being disliked?
People hate me? Good! Bring it on. Do you know what they say about you?
I'm sure you're going to tell me, Malcolm.
I'll tell you exactly what people think about you!
All right, go on then!
Fuck-all!!
Oh, do they? FUCK-ALL?
People have no fucking opinion about you! You're like fucking Special K or fucking the Moody Blues. That's you, fucking white noise in the background—Funny? Is that funny? Do you find that funny?
No, I don't find anything you're saying funny whatsoever. And I'll tell you a home truth, Malcolm Tucker: The people who are really hated in this country, the people who are really hated, are us. This government. How about we stand together? Let's both be team players, shall we?
(But then, Malcolm's cell phone beeps.)
Were you the Einstein that OK'd this fucking Andy Murray thing at DoSAC? Because I've got The Telegraph on here. (Steve's cell phone then beeps.) And you've probably got The Times asking why the budget's been pre-announced on Twitter by fucking Ryan Giggs.
(looking at his cell phone) Shit! "The last quarter's crime stats, which DoSAC have published, are unconfirmed projections." Shit!
That's DoSAC for you.
Come on, Malcolm. Team players!
Bring me sunshine.
(Both men leave the office.)
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