(Malcolm and Steve are playing a "Tug of War" of sorts for Nicola's attention.)
(to Nicola) Ignore him. Just come with me. Come into my office.
(to Malcolm) Let's deal with the crime stats...
(But Malcolm successfully brings Nicola into his "office..." and shuts Steve out.)
(knocking on the door) Come on. Malcolm. Malcolm. MALCOLM! (Steve starts laughing uncomfortably) Sorry about this, everybody.
(Malcolm is happy to shut out Steve, but he's still visibly annoyed.)
Goodbye. Give my regards to the rest of the fucking Village People.
(But then, Terri knocks on the office door.)
(outside the door) Sorry, Nicola, Mal--um, excuse me. It's Andy Murray. He's-he's insisting on talking to you.
(to Nicola) Talk to him.
What?
Get him back on board. Fucking talk to him.
NO!
(whispering) Yes.
You cannot be serious!
Was that an attempt at a joke?
You told me to kill it! I've killed it!
Right now, some photos in the papers of a very boring man with tight white shorts on is gonna be a very pleasant distraction from Steve's fucking crime stats abortion.
If we need a fucking celebrity, can we try somebody else? Steve Redgrave.
He's a boring fuck!
Lewis Hamilton.
Fucking boring, boring fuck. And fucking drives a car.
Chris Boardman.
Fucking cyclist! Are you fucking mental? Everybody hates cyclists! Even fucking cyclists hate fucking cyclists! Plus, he's a boring fuck!
I cannot...
(still outside the office) Paula Radcliffe?
No, she shat in the street!
And she's a boring fuck as well.
How about we just launch the policy without a celebrity?
(sarcastically) Oh, great idea. "Hello, there. Hi, everyone. I, Nicola Murray, would like to say to you that even though you don't fucking know me from fucking Adam, I think you should cut down on carbs."
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