(In this scene, the phone in Peter's office keeps running, and he keeps picking up the phone -- only to hang up without really answering. While he's doing this, Phil enters Peter's office.)
Look, Phil. Every petty criminal in the country is in a holding pattern, because that barrel of cocks at the Home Office can't process their arrests quick enough. (Peter disconnects his phone.) So why am I the one who has to gimp himself out all day to Martha Kearney and Eddie Mair?
Because since the inquiry, DoSAC looks toxic and weak, and they're just trying to pile all the government's ills on top of us.
Who's fault's that, Phil?
I've said I'm sorry about the inquiry, okay? I started writing you a letter but it just seemed pretentious. Look, if it's any consolation, I haven't felt that humiliated since my trunks fell down at the school swimming gala.
It's of absolutely no consolation to think of you naked in front of 500 boys.
(walking in, on her phone) Yeah, absolutely, Trevor. OK, yeah, drinks soon. Yeah, you too. OK, bye. (hangs up) Oh, God! I just felt my ovaries cringe. I'm trying to flirt our way out of this police backlog.
I thought we weren't talking to The Proclaimers.
We have to play happy families for Mary, pretend I don't actually want to strangle Fergus's bollocks so they look like glacé cherries.
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