Nicola (returning to her seat): Right, wee mission accomplished.
Actually, having an accurate wee into a moving train toilet would make a great round on The Cube with Phillip Schofield.Glenn (entering the toilet): Ollie, come on, this is my shittiest lunch break I've had since Stewart took us all out for sushi.
Patience, old man, and you can watch the fuckpuppet master at work now. (calls Ben) Ben Swain! Benign tumour, Bental illness!
Ol– Oliver Cyst, Olivetti – Spaghet– I don't really have time for chit-chat, Ollie.
Are you resigning, mate, are you dropping the R-bomb? Benola Gay? I'm not just, er, talking about the rumours.
Let's just say it is time to prepare the hidey-hole for Madame Hussein, her reign of error is over.
And out of interest, Ben, what would it take to stop you from resigning?
Why, what's Nicola offering?
Name your price!
All right. Shadow Chancellor.
(Ollie laughs. Glenn barely stops himself from doing so as well.)
Ah, you still got it, Benny.
I'm serious, stop fucking laughing.
All right, I'll call you back. (hangs up)
This is a fucking joke! Ben Swain, Chancellor? He goes into debt every time he passes a sweet shop!
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