Malcolm (to party staff, ahead of Nicola's arrival): Right, stop rolling around naked in the headlines; blind man's crumpet's on the way up. If you're gonna film her on your phones, try not to make it obvious, and no smiling. Not even a wee fucking Anne Robinson, right? The look we're going for should be solemn respect: you know, like blokes modelling underpants.
(Nicola Murray is trying to ask Dan Miller, the new Leader of the Opposition, NOT to go through with launching the inquiry.)
This inquiry, you know, it's not really necessary now, so if-if you want to say that, I'll just back down.
(unmoved) An inquiry wouldn't be a bad thing. A clean break with the past in the minds of the electorate.
Well, I mean, the electorate, you know, like me. (chuckling) Quite a lot of them voted me leader, so...
But you only beat me on a technicality.
Yeah. I mean the thing is, Dan, (Dan nods) you know, pragmatically, I'm now a party grandee – (Malcolm enters) Malcolm, this is a private conversation.
(Malcolm takes a chair and sits down.)
You are not a grandee, you are a fucking blandee. No one knew what the fuck you stood for. Political fucking mist. No substance, no weight. You've got all the charm of a rotting teddy bear by a graveside. By the way...women fucking hate you. I can show you the polling. They think you come across like a jittery mother at a wedding. The best thing you ever did in your flatlining non-leadership was call for an inquiry, because that will fuck the government and it will fuck you. So now, please, just fuck off back to your home, you headless frump, and prepare for your column in Grazia.
Steady on, Malcolm, that's a bit strong.
(to Nicola) Come on, let's go.
Okay, you, well...You just need to know that you have absolutely fucking done it now, Malcolm, because you are about to find out what it feels like to have me pissing in your tent.
Well, you know what? Your piss will never fucking make it into my tent, because by some unforeseen Nicola Murray-shaped fiasco, like every fucking Nicola Murray-shaped fiasco I've had to deal with for the last two years. you'll end up blowing your own fucking stream into your own fucking face. There's your golden handshake.
Finished?
You're finished.
(to Malcolm) We'll see. (to Dan) Right, well, thanks, Dan. Think about what I said. Also might want to think about the fact there should be an apostrophe in "its" (pointing to the "Its Miller Time" sign) Illiterate fuckers.
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