All right now, listen up, my children of a lesser god, you will find a file marked 'Snap Election Drill' on the J drive. And if you don't know how to access the J drive, hand your pass in at reception, go and buy some silver body paint, and pretend to be a robot on the South Bank. Fly my pretties, fly!
(Suddenly, Phil's cell phone rings.)
Stewart! Stewart, The Fucker's downstairs.
No, no, no. He's not downstairs, but if he were, I'd know about it, and if I knew about it, I would have vetoed it. Okay?
He is, and he is complete poison.
Ah, The Fucker! (to Stewart) And you thought he was just a myth created to frighten naughty MPs into eating all their truffles and swan.
Watch my lips. Cal Richards is not here.
(But Cal Richards IS there...and he's headed their way.)
Cal!
Hello.
Hi.
Hi, Stewart.
Good to see you. I didn't know about this. JB didn't say anything.
Hello, everyone. I just wanted it to be a surprise.
(Cal shakes hands with Peter, Phil and Emma while he's talking to Stewart.)
Yeah, why are you...why are you here?
Well, mate, I just thought I'd check in with the intellectual powerhouse of the party. That's all. That's why I'm here.
Right. Well, if you want to step in the office, yeah, I'll dismiss the children and we can talk.
No. 'Cause I'm kidding, aren't I? No, because I've come here to tell you that you're fucking sacked.
(thrilled) Halle-bloody-lujah!
(A look of doom comes over Stewart's face...)
Should I escort Stewart from the building, then, Cal?
Philip, Don't be such a fucking turncoat.
Yes, Philip, excellent idea. And while you're there, could you do me another favour, please? Could you find a hostel, go there, and take a fucking overdose of barbiturates?
(Emma chuckles at Cal's request.)
Yeah, right. Okay, well, I'm not fired. You can't fire me, Cal, so shall we just cut to the chase? Hmm?
(pretending to talk like a baby) "Aw, you can't fire me, Cal, 'cause you're..." Gotcha! I'm kidding. Of course you're not fired. Look at your face.
(smiling, but not amused) Funny.
I'm sensing a change in management styles here from touchy-feely to smashy-testes.
No, okay, joking aside, I'm just an impartial observer. Quite partial, obviously. So, uh, take it away, Captain Mainwaring.
(to the crowd) All right, folks, listen up. We have three key targets when we are smart-bombing our beloved PM and they are: The deficit, unemployment, lack of leadership. Get onto the J drive, you'll find key...
(And then suddenly -- Cal EXPLODES!)
FUCK, THAT IS BRILLIANT!! THAT IS INSPIRED! WHAT SAUCE! GET IN! IT'S THE ECONOMY, STEWPOT! Fuck, what I REALLY need to do is to shoot you all in the back of the head! (imitating a gun) FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! But I can't, because it's illegal!
(Then, Cal calms back down again.)
Okay, I'd like a small cappuccino, two extra shots, please. I think we've got a long night ahead of us. (to Stewart) Come on!
(to Cal) I'm coming. (to Peter) Better the devil you know, huh?
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