The Thick of It

[knock on door]

Malcolm Tucker:
Come the f*** in or f*** the f*** off.

Hugh Abbott:
All I do: I work, I eat, I shower, that's it. Occasionally I take a dump, just as a sort of treat. I mean that really IS my treat. I sit there and I think - no, I'm not gonna read the New Statesman, this time is just for me. This is quality time just for me. Is it normal?

Other:
I'm sorry, could you stop swearing, please?

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm really sorry, you won't hear any more swearing from us, YOU MASSIVE GAY SHITE! F*** off!

Malcolm Tucker:
How much f***ing sh*t is there on the menu and what f***ing flavour is it?

Malcolm Tucker:
Sam? Can you get me Terri Coverley and Glenn Cullen? Make them an appointment to come over? I think I got to shout at somebody, you know? Oh, actually, get me John at Culture on the phone, I think I'll have a bit of a shout now.

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Jamie, on the phone] There's a glacier of sh*t at DoSAC. I need you over here with a f***ing blow torch right now!

Angela Heaney:
They gave me flip flops, y'know? Someone actually went out and bought flip flops to give me.

Olly Reeder:
Yeah... You've gotta give them credit for that, that is quite funny.

Angela Heaney:
And they pasted onto them a f***ing porn picture of a girl sucking a big cock and they wrote "Angela Heaney swallows anything".

Olly Reeder:
That is less funny.

Cliff Lawton:
Its the bollocks of the jungle out there. They're like wolves, pissed wolves!

Cliff Lawton:
Malcolm, look, if you do this, it's the bollocks of a jungle out there. They're like wolves, pissed wolves.

Malcolm Tucker:
I've made the announcement, I've told the lobby you're going, Cliff.

Cliff Lawton:
You've told the lobby I'm going?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, sorry, Cliff.

Cliff Lawton:
Minister.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, get used to Cliff. I've booked you in for the usual soapy tit-wank farewell at Number 10 in twenty minutes. Also, drafted you a letter of resignation. Gives you the chance to say that you're jumping before you're pushed, although obviously we're gonna be briefing that you WERE pushed, sorry.

Cliff Lawton:
Erm... look, you don't need to do all this. What about Tom? Everybody knows that he's f***ing up Transport.

Malcolm Tucker:
We can't sack Tom at Transport. We can't lose anyone at Transport, they're important.

Cliff Lawton:
What, and Social Affairs isn't?

Malcolm Tucker:
Ok, the Department of Social Affairs is very important, but it's not Transport! Transport's cars, busses, trucks!

Cliff Lawton:
I know what Transport f***ing entails! [Tucker looks at him frighteningly] Look, I'll look at it. [reads the resignation letter] Personal reasons?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, I thought it would give you an ediquate scope.

Cliff Lawton:
Scope? What, like shooting up at the Cabinet office, or something? Stuffing a cat up my arse and having a wank, what do you mean, scope?

Malcolm Tucker:
You know, this could be agreat deal worse. You have had a good innings, you've been here for 18 months. And, you know, I've written some very nice things about you in the PM's reply to your resignation. Some very nice f***ing things indeed! I had a lump in my throat! And you know why? Because no one who matters thinks any less of you over this SO FAR, ok? Right, one more thing. The Daily Mail. David Topham has got it into his head that we are gonna sack you because of press presure.

Cliff Lawton:
I wonder why.

Malcolm Tucker:
Look, you are in no position to dish out f***ing sarcasm, that's over! You no longer have punctures in the sarcasm world! Get on the phone! Tell him that you're jumping before you're pushed, although we were going to push you, but not because of press presure but because of your deeply held f***ing personal issues, whatever they are!

Cliff Lawton:
You want me to write my own obituary.

Malcolm Tucker:
Get on the f***ing phone, do it now.

Terri Coverley:
[Terri, about Cliff's boxes] Do you mind taking them?

Cliff Lawton:
No. Why?

Terri Coverley:
Malcolm's there.

Cliff Lawton:
Malcolm? Where? In there?

Terri Coverley:
In your office.

Cliff Lawton:
Why?

Terri Coverley:
Just a social call.

Cliff Lawton:
A social call. Jesus Christ.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] No, he's useless, he's absolutely useless. No, he is. He's as useless as a marzipan dildo.

Malcolm Tucker:
Seriously, the PM likes you personally. I like you personally, and we have absolutely no desire to get rid of you. I just want you to know that. None of this negative stuff is coming from us.

Cliff Lawton:
Oh, Mal, mate, that... makes a big difference, makes me feel a lot more secure.

Malcolm Tucker:
Does it? Well, that's difficult.

Cliff Lawton:
What's difficult?

Malcolm Tucker:
Just endless headlines, just endless, day after day, chipping away at your confidence.

Cliff Lawton:
Absolutely.

Malcolm Tucker:
See, the thing is, that we're starting to look weak. Everyone say "When's he gonna go? When's he gonna go?".

Cliff Lawton:
Right...

Malcolm Tucker:
And you don't want us to look weak, do you?

Cliff Lawton:
No, no...

Malcolm Tucker:
So there you are. That's why you got to go.

Hugh Abbot:
[on the phone, fter the Snooper Force announcement] Malcolm!

Malcolm Tucker:
What the f*** was that? Was this the whole Snooper Force thing from you?

Hugh Abbot:
Malcolm, I've talked to the PM and this is completely kosher as far as he's concerned. He gave the go-ahead and he said, you know, bounce the Treasury.

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't you realise, we have got 17 different issues we are fighting with the Treasury about?

Hugh Abbot:
I can hear that you are, as your usual, upset.

Malcolm Tucker:
I'll tell you why I am upset. I'm upset because these f***ing morons over at the Treasury, these people, they are so paranoid! If you don't tell them about stuff like this, if you don't even cc them on e-mail, they think you've started a palace coup!

Hugh Abbot:
Malcolm...

Malcolm Tucker:
You don't seem to understand that I am gonna have to mop up a f***ing hurricane of piss here from all of these neurotics! What did the Prime Minister actually say to you?

Hugh Abbot:
He actually said this is exactly the kind of thing we should be doing.

Malcolm Tucker:
What did he actually say?

Hugh Abbot:
He said this is exactly the sort of thing we should be doing.

Malcolm Tucker:
'SHOULD' be doing. 'Should' does not mean 'yes'.

Hugh Abbot:
'Should', does it mean 'yes'?

Glenn Cullen:
Yes, "we should do this".

Hugh Abbot:
When Tucker was talking to me 'should' didn't mean 'yes'. I mean it really didn't. I felt like a fool.

Glenn Cullen:
[trying to come up with a policy idea] What we need is something that the public want, is incredibly popular and is free.

Olly Reeder:
Return of capital punishment.

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm hacked off, mate.

Hugh Abbot:
But we killed it, it's killed.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, "but once you start the fire, Malc, and we didn't start the fire, it's always burning since the world's been turning" et cetera, et cetera...

Hugh Abbot:
So... Malcolm, you're not making any sence.

Malcolm Tucker:
Prime Minister, obviously, he's on the plane in Stokholm, someone hits him with The World At One. He thinks it's the Treasury trying to stiff him one so he... he stuck with the story.

Hugh Abbot:
He liked it?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, he's backing the Snooper Force.

Hugh Abbot:
Oh, right! We shouldn't really then... You shouldn't really have told us to... Should you?

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't should me, Hugh, 'cause I'll should you right back. I'll should you right through that window! None of this should be happening, should it? Should it?

Hugh Abbot:
Is that "should" in a sence of "yes"?

Malcolm Tucker:
It's "should" in a sence "you should do as you're f***ing told"!

Hugh Abbot:
So what are we gonna do now?

Malcolm Tucker:
You're gonna completely reverse your position.

Hugh Abbot:
Hang on a second... Malcolm... That's not gonna be easy. That's gonna be quite hard.

Malcolm Tucker:
Well, the announcement you didn't make today - you did.

Hugh Abbot:
No, I didn't. And there were television cameras there while I was not doing it.

Malcolm Tucker:
F*** them.

Hugh Abbot:
I'm not sure what level of reality I'm supposed to be operating on.

Malcolm Tucker:
Look, this is what they run with. I tell them that you said it, they believe that you said it. They don't REALLY believe that you said it, they know that you never said it, but it's in their interest to say that you said it, because if they don't say that you said it, they're not gonna get what you say tomorrow or the next day, when I decide to tell them what it is you're saying.

Hugh Abbot:
Yeah, I am following this, I just...

Malcolm Tucker:
I had a friend who used to indulge in extra-marital affairs, ok? He'd go off and he'd have some dalliance and every Monday he'd come back and he'd meet his wife. And he told me that all he did that is inside his head turn a little switch - the affair never happened, ok?

Malcolm Tucker:
[Ollie and Angela arguing. Tucker comes in] Hi, Angela! Oh, like the hair, nice little corkscrews. How's it going?

Olly Reeder:
Fine. We were just talking about why Angela shouldn't do a big story on the big insidery piece, kinda day of spin, sort of spread in the paper...

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, I don't know. Maybe you should! Good idea! [leaves. Then comes back] Oh, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn't! Because , you know, if she did that, she'd be dead. To me, to this department, to the government. And she'll never get another story, or even f***ing whiff of a story as long as she kept her sorry hack b*tch face lingering around Westminster, because I would call every editor I know, which, obviously, that's all of them and I'd tell them to gauge her name out of their adress books so she'd never even get a job on a hospital radio where the sad sack belongs.

Hugh Abbot:
I want a new driver. Get me a new driver. I don't wanna see this guy ever again.

Glenn Cullen:
On what grounds?

Hugh Abbot:
Smiling! Innapropriate smiling! And smirking! Smiling and smirking! I don't wanna see that smile or smirk ever again, ok?

Hugh Abbott:
I want a new driver. Get me a new driver. I don't wanna see this guy ever again.

Glenn Cullen:
On what grounds?

Hugh Abbott:
Smiling! Inappropriate smiling! And smirking! Smiling and smirking! I don't wanna see that smile or smirk ever again, ok?

Malcolm Tucker:
What did the Prime Minister ACTUALLY said to you?

Hugh Abbott:
He actually said this is exactly the sort of thing we should be doing.

Malcolm Tucker:
"SHOULD" be doing. "Should" does not mean "yes".

Hugh Abbott:
So, how do we respond to this?

Terri Coverley:
Right, we don't exchange insults with bloody Simon arsepipes... tittytwat.

Oliver Reeder:
Is that honestly the best swearing you can come up with?

Glenn Cullen:
This is a bucket of sh*t. If someone throws sh*t at us, we throw sh*t back at them. We start a sh*t fight. We throw so much sh*t at them, that they can't pick up sh*t, they can't throw sh*t, they can't do sh*t.

Hugh Abbott:
That's top swearing Glenn, well done.

Hugh Abbott:
God that's why the PM always looks so clued up, I always thought he was genuinely quite with it

Malcolm Tucker:
No, no, he's as bad as you, he uses phrases like "with it" as well

Malcolm Tucker:
Ok, this is what we're doing: I'm putting about through a number of cronies that Hewitt's piece was a packet of bollocks, he did it as a favor to Cliff.

Oliver Reeder:
Cliff being...

Glenn Cullen:
Cliff Lawton.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hugh's predesessor. He and Hewitt are as tight as arse cheeks.

Hugh Abbott:
[surprised] Are they now?

Malcolm Tucker:
F*** knows, but that's what we're saying, ok? It's personal, it's backslapping, it's borderline homoerotic, and you are the innocent victim of a nasty media stitch-up. I'm fixing you up with a "Me and My Media" piece with [points to Ollie] your ex Angela Heaney. But, this is a perfect opportunity to show just how clued-up you are, actually! Hughey Abbot, the in-touch guy! You're on the ball! You know the price for a pint of milk! You love HBO imports, VH1, Pixar, you dig the Streets.

Hugh Abbott:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, they're all great.

Malcolm Tucker:
You've got absolutely no f***ing idea what I'm talking about, do you?

Hugh Abbott:
Yes, I do.

Malcolm Tucker:
Who's the only gay in the village?

Hugh Abbott:
Eddie Grundy. I dunno... No, he has children. Mind you, alot of them do these days! Ben at the Foreign Office...

Malcolm Tucker:
What's a chav?

Hugh Abbott:
Ch... erm...

Malcolm Tucker:
Hugh, what is a chav?

Oliver Reeder:
Come on, you must know this!

Glenn Cullen:
Chav!

Malcolm Tucker:
Chav!

Hugh Abbott:
Just saying "chav" isn't really helpful!

Malcolm Tucker:
This is important stuff, Hugh! Right, we do a weekly digest for the Prime Minister, we boil down the week's television, cinema, music, so on.

Oliver Reeder:
The Zeitgeist tapes.

Malcolm Tucker:
Exactly, the Zeitgest tapes. EastEnders highlights, choice bits from all the reality shows, 10 seconds music videos, that kind of thing.

Hugh Abbott:
That's why the PM always looks so clued-up! I always thought he was jenuenly quite with it.

Malcolm Tucker:
No, no, he's as bad as you, he uses phrases like "with it" as well. Right, I'm gonna bike that over to Terri, watch it, ok? And listen, when you talk to Angela Heaney, remember to stick the boot into Hewitt. I'm putting it about that Cliff offered him two free weeks at his Toscan villa for that piece, ok?

Hugh Abbott:
Ten-four, daddy-o!

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey, hey, hey, this is serious! You've got 24 hours to sort out your policy on EastEnders, right? Or you're for the halal butchers! [Ollie does an imitation of the EastEnders opening music] Even he knows.

Malcolm Tucker:
[shouting at Mary, the focus-group actress] You just want to think about what is gonna happen tomorrow!

Hugh Abbott:
Because tomorrow, you are gonna find the press all over you.

Mary:
In a good way?

Hugh Abbott:
No, not in a good way!

Malcolm Tucker:
You know that film Notting Hill, have you seen that?

Glenn Cullen:
She's probably f***ing in it!

Malcolm Tucker:
You know the bit when the guy opens the door and there's like millions of journalists and hacks and photographers and all flash bulbs going off? In four hours time that's gonna be you, they're gonna be all over you like f***ing cockroaches!

Hugh Abbott:
[trying to calm a disstressed Mary] It's ok.

Malcolm Tucker:
No, no, no, it's not ok, it's not going to be ok, and I tell you why. Because you're fair game, so I hope your knickers are clean because every seat-sniffing little shitbag that's ever filed a by-line is gonna be questioning you! Because now it's in the f***ing public interest, isn't it? And they are gonna hit you with any sh*t they can find and you're gonna be spread out infront of them like a trollop in the stocks!

Malcolm Tucker:
Did you watch the zeitgeist tape?

Hugh Abbott:
Yeah, some of it, yeah

Malcolm Tucker:
So do yknow your Eastenders, then? Do you know your Little Mo from your Big Mo?

Hugh Abbott:
[badly imitating Eastenders theme tune] BOM BOM Bab bum bum

Malcolm Tucker:
What?

Hugh Abbott:
I haven't watched it, no

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm connected, I'm plugged into the Matrix, I am The f***ing Matrix

Hugh Abbott:
Huh? Sorry?

Malcolm Tucker:
Have you not watched that tape yet?

Malcolm Tucker:
[night, everyone's in Tucker's office, except for Abbot, who's in the car on his way home] I've never seen headlines like it!

Oliver Reeder:
In what way?

Malcolm Tucker:
It's all gone to shite!

Glenn Cullen:
Oh, the papers didn't like the policy?

Malcolm Tucker:
They hate it, they f***ing loath it! Are you getting all this, Hugh?

Hugh Abbott:
[on the phone] Yes, you're very clear.

Terri Coverley:
Do they all hate it? The Times?

Malcolm Tucker:
Especially The Times.

Hugh Abbott:
Wait a minute, the first edition hasn't even gone to bed yet, how do you know?

Malcolm Tucker:
Because I'm connected, I'm plugged into the Matrix. I AM the f***ing Matrix.

Hugh Abbott:
Sorry?

Malcolm Tucker:
Have you not watched that tape yet?

Hugh Abbott:
I'm taking it home now, gonna watch it there. We just bought a new video player of the back of Alicia's obsession with Pingu.

Malcolm Tucker:
Ok, I want you all to pay attention - this Arts policy is dead. Ok? As of now. Get a press release out and bung it in the owen. F*** off, the lot of you.

Malcolm Tucker:
Ok, this is what we're doing: I'm putting about through a number of cronies that Hewitt's piece was a packet of bollocks, he did it as a favor to Cliff.

Oliver Reeder:
Cliff being...

Glenn Cullen:
Cliff Lawton.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hugh's predesessor. He and Hewitt are as tight as arse cheeks.

Hugh Abbott:
Are they now?

Malcolm Tucker:
F*** knows, but that's what we're saying, ok? It's personal, it's backslapping, it's borderline homoerotic, and you are an innocent victim of a nasty media stitch-up.

Malcolm Tucker:
All right, listen up, this is what we're gonna do: I'm bringing forward Hugh's interview with Angela Heaney to this afternoon. It goes out as a spoiler tomorrow morning. That way we can get our side of the story across and also piss all over Simon Hewitt's cornflecks, sadly only metaphorically, yeah? Allright, Ollie, call Heaney. Terri, get onto her editor. Glenn, book a room. Bodie, Doyle, you go round the back! [all stare at him] At times of stress, I make jokes!

Oliver Reeder:
Focus group companies do it all the time, if they can't cobble together the, yknow, right cross section, they call a casting agency

Glenn Cullen:
Dial-An-Opinion, is this, send me three liberals, two f***ing mavericks and a racist?

Malcolm Tucker:
Simon Hewitt, he's a fat guy with a dick the size of a bookie's biro

Terri Coverley:
[Talking about her role in the department in relation to policy] It's not my role to have a preference - I sell the apples. If you want me to sell the apples, I'll sell the apples. But if you want me to sell oranges, then I'll go and tell people that the apples, the apples are sh*t Olly, they're sh*t - I'll say go on, check out our oranges.

Hugh Abbott:
Do you have a pref- which do you prefer, you know, apples or oranges?

Terri Coverley:
[Exasperated] Apples!

Hugh Abbott:
Apples?

Terri Coverley:
Apples.

Hugh Abbott:
OK, thank you!

Glenn Cullen:
Hugh, if we are going to spend taxpayers money putting violent thugs into productions of the f***ing Cherry Orchard then we're gonna get crucified, and rightly so!

Hugh Abbott:
Hang on a second - Terri, which was apples, was Olly apples or was Glenn apples? [Terri has left her desk] oh, she's gone.

Glenn Cullen:
This is a bucket of sh*t. If someone throws sh*t at us, we throw sh*t back at them. We start a sh*t fight. We throw so much sh*t back at them so they can't pick up sh*t, they can't throw sh*t, they can't DO sh*t.

Malcolm Tucker:
Ok, this is what we're doing: I'm putting about through a number of cronies that Hewitt's piece was a packet of bollocks, he did it as a favor to Cliff.

Oliver Reeder:
Cliff being...

Glenn Cullen:
Cliff Lawton...

Malcolm Tucker:
Hugh's predesessor. He and Hewitt are as tight as arse cheeks.

Hugh Abbott:
Are they now?

Malcolm Tucker:
F*** knows, but that's what we're saying, ok? It's personal, it's backslapping, it's borderline homoerotic, and you are an innocent victim of a nasty media stitch-up.

Malcolm Tucker:
All right, listen up, this is what we're gonna do: I'm bringing forward Hugh's interview with Angela Heaney to this afternoon. It goes out as a spoiler tomorrow morning. That way we can get our side of the story across and also piss all over Simon Hewitt's cornflakes, sadly only metaphorically, yeah? Allright, Ollie, call Heaney. Terry, get on to her editor. Glenn, book a room. Bodie, Doyle, you go round the back!... At times of stress, I make jokes!

Malcolm Tucker:
What the f*** is your girlfriend doing hitting us with this?

Olly Reeder:
Well she's not my girlfriend, Malcolm

Malcolm Tucker:
Ah well, you won't mind if I kill her then?

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Olly] Feet off the furniture you Oxbridge twat, you're not on a punt now.

Malcolm Tucker:
It IS possible to have a good resignation, you know!

Hugh Abbot:
"A good resignation"? Oh, I'm looking forward to how you're gonna sell THIS to me!

Malcolm Tucker:
Look, people really like it when you go just a bit early! You know, steely jawed, faraway look in your eyes! Before they get to the point when they sitting round in pubs and say "Oh, that f***er's got to go!", you surprise them! "Blimey, he's gone! I didn't expect that! Resigned! You don't see THAT much anymore! Old school! Respect! I rather liked the guy! He was hounded out by the f***ing press!" How about that, ah? What a way to go! Yeah!

Malcolm Tucker:
It IS possible to have a good resignation, you know!

Hugh Abbott:
"A good resignation"? Oh, I'm looking forward to how you're gonna sell THIS to me!

Malcolm Tucker:
Look, people really like it when you go just a bit early! You know, steely jawed, faraway look in your eyes! Before they get to the point when they sitting round in pubs and say "Oh, that f***er's got to go!", you surprise them! "Blimey, he's gone! I didn't expect that! Resigned! You don't see THAT much anymore! Old school! Respect! I rather liked the guy! He was hounded out by the f***ing press!" How about that, ah? What a way to go! Yeah!

Glenn Cullen:
[about Ollie being seconded to Nr.10 for a week] They only want him to make Cappucinos.

Hugh Abbot:
He does it very well. I think it's the way you waggle your finger so hard in the milk.

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, you think it's my finger, b*tch.

Jamie:
Where's Neil?

Malcolm Tucker:
Leicester. Poor f***er! You'd think that once you'd achieved a certain status, you might be excused to visit Leicester, wouldn't you?

Jamie:
Have you seen the Whip's numbers?

Malcolm Tucker:
NOMFuP.

Jamie:
Eh?

Malcolm Tucker:
NOMFuP. N-O-M-F-P. Not My F***ing Problem. I quite like that. Did you like that? I'll use that quite a lot today. [to a passing by communications guy] Hey, well done on Fatty's profile! Very very good! I nearly liked the enormous f***er, reading it!

Jamie:
What if the MoD breaks tonight? What I'm hearing is, the overspend's getting more brutal by the hour. They're talking about topping at one, one and a half billion. Obviously, that's a lot of nurses.

Malcolm Tucker:
Or one fantastically enormous robotic one, yeah?

Jamie:
Obviously.

Malcolm Tucker:
And how's the Minister?

Jamie:
He's shitting himself! [laughs] He's practically kissing his driver goodbye. He said he felt like he's in the Twin Towers on the 9/11, just f***ing waiting.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, for f***'s sake. Everybody know their lines, right? IT projects, always overspend. [to Sam] D'you think you could manage me a desent cup of tea? Would that be possible? Thank you. Try not to drip in it. [Sam leaves. To Jamie] I tell you, the thing that worries me... is this dodgy?

Jamie:
I dunno. The kid's firm was the second lowest bid, he says they never talked, what does it matter?

Malcolm Tucker:
No, well, you know me, I'm a man of principle, I like to know whether I'm lying to save the skin of a tosser or a moron.

Jamie:
Probably a moron.

Malcolm Tucker:
[shouting] Sam! A coffee and a f***ing skinny muffin, if that's possible! [sees Ollie waiting in the hall] What the f*** are you doing here?

Oliver Reeder:
I thought you said today, Malcolm. Did you not say...?

Malcolm Tucker:
I mean what are you doing there? Come on. [go inside Tucker's office]

Oliver Reeder:
Oh, right, sorry, I just didn't want to interrupt. Never know what you're doing in here.

Malcolm Tucker:
Well, if the PM's giving me a blow job I always put a sign up.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the way to the Communications office] Hey Jamie! This is Ollie!

Jamie:
THE Ollie? The stuck-one-up-the-Opposition-for-us Ollie? Good f***ing man! Good to meet you!

Malcolm Tucker:
This is Jamie, he'll be looking after you.

Oliver Reeder:
Oh, great, another Scot, I see. Does everyone needs to be in the Caledonian Mafia to, erm...

Malcolm Tucker:
Everybody, this is Ollie! He's the guy who f***ed the Opposition for us! [everybody cheer]

Oliver Reeder:
That was quite an introduction.

Jamie:
Just nod when the big f***er talks, do whatever I say.

Malcolm Tucker:
Actually it's the other way around. Look, Jamie's gonna put you in touch with a guy called Paul. Paul vets all the stuff that we input into the attack. Technically, you shouldn't be doing this here, but the main frame's not here, right? So technically you're not!

Oliver Reeder:
Sorry, stuff about Emma?

Malcolm Tucker:
About Emma, yeah.

Oliver Reeder:
[dissapointed] Oh.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey, Ollie, I know that you're dead brainy, but look, I've got brains coming out of my f***ing arse. What I need is political intelligence.

Oliver Reeder:
I just feel a bit awkward, you know...

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, it's make-your-mind-up time, Ollie! I mean, what do you want to be? Do you want to be a prick that works here for a year, then goes away and joins a think-tank to write "oh, on one hand this and on the other hand that", or do you want to be a soldier?

Jamie:
Have you got your eyes on the prize?

Oliver Reeder:
I've got my eyes on the prize.

Malcolm Tucker:
Good.

Oliver Reeder:
What is the prize?

Malcolm Tucker:
I don't know, you need to ask the brainy guys. I'll settle for just keeping us in government instead of the wankers you're shagging!

Oliver Reeder:
So. I've been given a desk at Nr.10 to ring my girlfriend?

Frankie:
That's about the size of it. Shagging your way to the top, then, is it?

Oliver Reeder:
Yes, well, I'm not Scottish, so I've got to get in somehow, haven't I?

Malcolm Tucker:
[shouting at Geoff Holhurst] How much f***ing sh*t is there on the menu and what f***ing flavor is it?

Malcolm Tucker:
...so we had the whole front of the train, and then we... [Ollie's cellphone rings] You're not gonna get that, Ollie?

Oliver Reeder:
No, been on that all day. Microwaves. I've got a tumor coming up.

Jamie:
I think I got a touch of the brain tumor as well. Not much of a f***ing soldier, is he?

Malcolm Tucker:
He's a lover, not a fighter.

Hugh Abbot:
Have you, though? Ever cleaned up your own mother's piss?

Glenn Cullen:
No, I never knew my mother, as you know.

Hugh Abbot:
Sorry. Have you ever cleaned up your step-mother's piss?

Glenn Cullen:
No, I never cleaned her piss, it wasn't that kind of relationship.

Hugh Abbot:
I've done Alicia's piss... And then Charlie's piss, loads and loads of it. You know, it's only piss. She was going on like it's toxic waist or something... What's a bit of piss?

Jamie:
Well, go for f***'s sake, you big f***ing prick! Or I'll cut your ears off! We need it done!

Oliver Reeder:
When I met you this morning I thought you were the nice Scot.

Mark Davies:
Malcolm, this is a traditional oldfashioned news story called 'Minister looks a tit'.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey, everybody looks a tit, you know? Take two of this shots of him looking moronic out, leave a couple in of him looking a little bit dim, put one of him composed, drop it down in the running order, and we've got a deal.

Mark Davies:
What deal, Malcolm? He looks a tit, that's it! I'm sorry.

Malcolm Tucker:
But there is a difference between allowing someone's natural tittishness to come through and just exploiting it through camera work here! You're sticking one tit moment on top of another tit moment! That wouldn't happen in real life!

Hugh Abbot:
[to Oliver] Morning studmuffin, enjoy your walk on the wild side? How was your dip in the wild blue... p*ssy?

Frankie:
Shagging your way to the top, then, is it?

Oliver Reeder:
Well, I'm not Scottish, so I got to get there somehow.

Jamie:
Have you seen the Whip's numbers?

Malcolm Tucker:
NOMFuP.

Jamie:
Eh?

Malcolm Tucker:
NOMFuP. N-O-M-F-P. Not My F***ing Problem. I quite like that. Did you like that? I'll use that quite a lot today.

Glenn Cullen:
They only want him to make cappuccinos.

Hugh Abbott:
He does it very well. I think it's the way you waggle your finger so hard in the milk.

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, you think it's my finger, b*tch.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey Jamie! This is Ollie!

Jamie:
THE Ollie? The stuck-one-up-the-Opposition-for-us Ollie? Good f***ing man! Good to meet you!

Mark Davies:
Malcolm, this is a traditional old fashioned news story called "Minister looks a tit".

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey, everybody looks a tit, you know? Take two of this shots of him looking moronic out, leave a couple in of him looking a little bit dim, put one of him composed, drop it down in the running order, and we've got a deal.

Mark Davies:
What deal, Malcolm? He looks a tit, that's it! I'm sorry.

Malcolm Tucker:
But there is a difference between allowing someone's natural tittishness to come through and just exploiting it through camera work here! You're sticking one tit moment on top of another tit moment! That wouldn't happen in real life!

Jamie:
[to Ollie, about Malcolm] Just nod when the big f***er talks, do whatever I say.

Malcolm Tucker:
Actually it's the other way around.

Malcolm Tucker:
Is this dodgy?

Jamie:
I dunno. The kid's firm was the second lowest bid, he says they never talked, what does it matter?

Malcolm Tucker:
No, well, you know me, I'm a man of principle, I like to know whether I'm lying to save the skin of a tosser or a moron.

Jamie:
Probably a moron...

Malcolm Tucker:
It's make-your-mind-up time, Ollie! I mean, what do you want to be? Do you want to be a prick that works here for a year, then goes away and joins a think-tank to write "oh, on one hand this and on the other hand that", or do you want to be a soldier?

Jamie:
Have you got your eyes on the prize?

Oliver Reeder:
I've got my eyes on the prize.

Malcolm Tucker:
Good.

Oliver Reeder:
What is the prize?

Malcolm Tucker:
I don't know, you need to ask the brain guys... I'll settle for just keeping us in government instead of the wankers you're shagging!

Hugh Abbott:
Have you, though? Ever cleaned up your own mother's piss?

Glenn Cullen:
No, I never knew my mother, as you know...

Hugh Abbott:
Sorry. Have you ever cleaned up your step-mother's piss?

Glenn Cullen:
No, I never cleaned her piss, it wasn't that kind of relationship.

Hugh Abbott:
I've done Alicia's piss... And then Charlie's piss, loads and loads of it. You know, it's only piss. She was going on like it's toxic waist or something... What's a bit of piss?

Jamie:
[about Ollie] Not much of a f***ing soldier, is he?

Malcolm Tucker:
He's a lover, not a fighter.

[just before he leaves, Ollie slaps Glenn round the back of the head, to get him back for "happy-slapping" him before]

Glenn Cullen:
Stupid boy.

Hugh Abbot:
That was funny.

Glenn Cullen:
That was funny?

Hugh Abbot:
Yeah.

Glenn Cullen:
I don't think it was funny.

Hugh Abbot:
I'm an elected representative of the people. It was funny.

Pauline McKendrick:
Do you know what it's like to clean up your own mother's piss?

Pauline McKendrick:
What are you smiling at? What are you grinning at? Do you think it's funny? Do you think I'm funny? Do you think my mother's piss is funny? Well, it's not funny! She's not laughing! She's pissing herself!

Malcolm Tucker:
Stop swearing? Oh ok, I'll stop swearing, you MASSIVE GAY SH*T - F*** OFF!

Hugh Abbot:
Good morning.

Robyn Murdoch:
Good morning, Minister.

Hugh Abbot:
Just off to your 8:30 with Malcolm? The Big One? First one?

Robyn Murdoch:
Into the lion's den. The viper's pit.

Hugh Abbot:
The belly of the beast. The lair of the white worm.

Oliver Reeder:
The eye of the snake. [all stare at him]

Hugh Abbot:
Not all the departments get asked to the 8:30's, so it's great that we are in there with the big hitters. Always best to be inside the tent, pissing out.

Oliver Reeder:
Absolutely. If you were doing this at the Department of Enviorment and Rural Affairs, at 8:30 you'd be very much outside the tent, probably at Coffee Republic.

Hugh Abbot:
Covered in piss.

Malcolm Tucker:
[Tucker's 8:30 meeting] Morning, morning, morning. Allright, I wanna have a little bit of a think about some of our presentation issues with regard to yesterday. There seemed to be a bit of a problem with Liam on Newsnight. I would like to know why did we have a Minister on last night who did not appear to know the lines?

Steve:
It's not all his fault, Malcolm. We grilled him beforehand. He's got a new baby, he's not getting enough sleep.

Malcolm Tucker:
I don't care if he's got a new baby. I don't care if he's tired. He looked like he didn't know what he was f***ing talking about! No, I know he doesn't know what he's f***ing talking about, but he's got to appear as if he does, right? And that is your job! [points to everyone in turn] And your job! And yours and yours and yours and yours! With all your respective Ministers! Give them the lines, right?

Robyn Murdoch:
Give them all the lines to say.

Malcolm Tucker:
This is the delightful Robyn, she's just with us today, standing in for Terry Coverley at the Department of Social Affairs, so let's be gentle with her, please. No remarks about the Department of Stuffed Anuses, the Department of Stupid Announcements and the Department of Sod All! Right, next!

Robyn Murdoch:
Reshuffle?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes, there is a pending reshuffle. I can see we're not gonna get anything past you! There was a young girl from DoSA, who helped herself to a samosa. No, next time I'll come up with something, just a bit of fun. Yes, the reshuffle, no, yes, definitely, we don't know anything. I don't know anything, so we can't say anything. But, you know, even if we did, we wouldn't, but we don't, so we both can't and won't. Right, next?

Steve:
What about Julius Nicholson? I've got it yesterday he was looking at the MoD taking over the UK security from the Home Office?

Malcolm Tucker:
See, that was flown by one of Nicholson's mob. I'm spending half of my time now dealing with that rubbish that Nicholson's putting out there!

Steve:
There's a Sunday piece in the pipeline about you and him not getting along. Just wondered if you've got a line.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah. 'Julius Nicholson is a hugely respected advisor. He now has a wide ranging brief and his blue-sky vision and helicopter-thinking will enable this government to go, in his own phrase, beyond delivery and beyond that'. That's the line, ok? And if he does stick his baldie head round your door and comes up with some stupid idea about policemen's helmets should be yellow or let's set up a department to count the moon, just treat him like someone with Helzheimer's disease, you know? Just say 'yes, that's lovely, that's good, we must talk about that later', ok?

Malcolm Tucker:
Hughey?

Hugh Abbot:
Just thought you'd like to know as soon as possible. Terry's dad?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah?

Hugh Abbot:
No news.

Malcolm Tucker:
So, you've come to talk about the reshuffle, then?

Hugh Abbot:
Yeah. In terms of shuffley stuff, how's Neil? Is his heart...?

Malcolm Tucker:
Have you not heard? He's paralised. Neil's on wheels. He's a vegetable.

Hugh Abbot:
Oh, dear.

Malcolm Tucker:
Mind you, that means you could have his department.

Hugh Abbot:
Oh, you ARE kidding. F*** you very much.

Malcolm Tucker:
I know you're looking for mouth-to-mouth on the reshuffle, but I don't know anything about it and even the PM is still working it out on the back of a Coldplay CD as we speak.

Hugh Abbot:
[arguing about Hugh remaining in the dark on the 8:30's situation] Why didn't you tell me, Glenn? What possible reason did you have? You saw me, I was swinging like a colostomy bag!

Glenn Cullen:
Oh, Hugh, grow up! Stuff happens in this department every day, I can't tell you everything!

Hugh Abbot:
Since when, Glenn, since when does the Secretary of State for Social Affairs have to find out from the f***ing press that every morning at 8:30 I'm being fisted up the gallbladder by a bald man?

Malcolm Tucker:
Alright, guys, thanks very much for staying on. Julius Nicholson, right? Blue-sky thinker? Ex-business guru? Dog rapist? He's being a nuisance to me, he's also got plans of squizzing your department so hard, you'll be lucky to be left with one bollock between the three of you. So all I'm doing here is asking you, formally, if you will join me in a little bit of a circle jerk?

Hugh Abbot:
Circle jerk?

Oliver Reeder:
Alot of guys in a circle, all, you know... Well, I assume you don't mean literally, do you? Presumably?

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Glenn] Tony Mack in the Lobby, you know him, right? Call him, now. Tell him that you're getting that Nicholson is gonna get Foreign Sec in the reshuffle.

Glenn Cullen:
[on the phone] Tony! Hi! How's it dangling, yeah? Listen, I just want to run something past you. I wonder if you're hearing what, you know, I've been hearing, that Nicholson's gonna be getting Foreign Sec.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hugh, who is your top mate in the commenteria?

Hugh Abbot:
Colin Sykes.

Malcolm Tucker:
Colin Sykes? That's your top mate? Call him up!

Hugh Abbot:
[on the phone] Hi, Colin! It's Hugh Abbot speaking, how are you? Got a decent back hand yet? Hugh, Hugh Abbot, we played tennis together. Yeah, yeah!

Glenn Cullen:
[on the phone] I know it's probably bollocks, but that's what we all thought when Jim was up for Home Secretary. Next thing we know, he's given up the Colombian marching powder and taken up the sacraments.

Hugh Abbot:
[on the phone] Foreign Secretary is exactly where he should be, he's a smart guy. I think at one point I called him a dog rapist. [Tucker's phone rings]

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] Cath! I don't know where it's come from, I've been getting it as well! Stonewall them, ok? I'll talk to the boss! [hangs up] And now I'm gonna phone the Prime Minister of Great Britain. [on the phone] Allright, boss? Yeah, look, I'm really sorry to interrupt you, but we're getting hit on the blind side here! Stuff about Julius Nicholson? Cath's and I phones are both white hot. Stuff about him becoming Foreign Sec! Am I out of the loop here? Well, person that's most likely to be getting his mates to put this kind of stuff around is Julius Nicholson. You put so much hope in them, they always let you down. I think maybe Julius needs to have his wings clipped a wee bit, you know. Do you wanna do it? I think you're right, I think it's better if I just had a little chat. I'll see you in the morning. Night. [hangs up] F***ing brilliant! Eight missed messages! Sleep lightly.

Claire Ballantine:
Are you lying to me now about not lying to me before?

Hugh Abbott:
No, No... I am not a liar! I categorically did not knowingly not tell the truth, even though unknowingly i might not have done.

Oliver Reeder:
Who wants to go and watch bollockvision?

Hugh Abbott:
Bollockvision?

Oliver Reeder:
Mister Malcolm Tucker, turning it all the way up to eleven down at the lobby, come and have a look.

Hugh Abbott:
[all watch Tucker bollocking another minister] Poor Keith!Malcolm must f***ing love this place, four ministers in one building, it's his dream, one non-stop bollock-shop.

Glenn Cullen:
Trouble is we're gonna be getting some of that in about an hour.

Hugh Abbott:
Yeah. I don't know which is worse - watch him slowly rumble towards you like a prostate cancer or him appearing suddenly out of nowhere like a severe stroke. [Terri, whose father just died of a stroke gives him "the look"] Oh... How's your sister coping?

Hugh Abbott:
[looking at a giant pot-plant in his office] Where did that come from?

Oliver Reeder:
Malcolm sent it.

Hugh Abbott:
It's far too big. Why did he send it?

Oliver Reeder:
Office warming present.

Hugh Abbott:
Why did he send us a present? Has security check this?

Oliver Reeder:
What for? Tiny little terrorists?

Hugh Abbott:
Yes.

Oliver Reeder:
It's a plant! "Yes"?

Malcolm Tucker:
So, did you enjoy the show?

Glenn Cullen:
You were magnificent, darling!

Hugh Abbott:
Yeah, should I phone Keith so I can get his team to watch you bollock me now?

Malcolm Tucker:
No no no. Have I got my bollocking face on?

Hugh Abbott:
Well, I...

Malcolm Tucker:
[making a seriously scary face] No, this is my bollocking face.

Hugh Abbott:
Oh, crickey, yes. Thanks for the pot plant, by the way.

Malcolm Tucker:
Did I send that?

Hugh Abbott:
As an office warming present.

Malcolm Tucker:
Christ, she's a great PA isn't she, Sam? She always remembers the little people. Look at the size of that f***er, you can f***ing crucify somebody on that!

Malcolm Tucker:
I like your tan, by the way. Have you declared it? Staying at the villa of an influential friend?

Hugh Abbott:
I haven't got any influential friends, Malcolm. You are my only influential friend.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, yeah, and I'm not really your friend anyway.

Hugh Abbott:
You're not really my friend.

Malcolm Tucker:
So, this super-schools bill. You don't think it's so super, do you?

Hugh Abbott:
You're doing it now.

Malcolm Tucker:
What?

Hugh Abbott:
That's your bollocking face.

Hugh Abbott:
[sending an e-mail to Glenn from Terri's computer] "Christ Alive ! What a c*nt !"

Oliver Reeder:
[to Terri] Apparently The Sun are running a cartoon with you being arrested by a c*nt-stable.

Malcolm Tucker:
Right, Terri, you're gonna give a press conference in 90 minutes and you're gonna apologise. There's your statement, learn it.

Terri Coverley:
I... I organize the press conferences, I don't give them.

Malcolm Tucker:
God, right, ok well, seen as you're not used to this, I'll go through it for you, ok? What happens at a press conference is this - a bunch of press people are gonna appear, they got things called cameras and microphones and mobile phones and hangovers and bad breath. Then you are gonna walk out and you're gonna read from what we call a "prepared statement". In that you will say "I'm really f***ing sorry for sounding like a hairy arsed docker after twelve pints. I promise that I will never call an 8 year old girl a c*nt again. Can we now just draw a line over this and f***ing move on? Thank you". Everybody goes home and then we wait and we see what happens. The best case is you get keep your job, although you will forever be known as The Sweary Woman of Whitehall.

Other:
I'm sorry, could you stop swearing please?

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm really sorry, you won't hear any more swearing from us, YOU MASSIVE GAY SHITE! F*** off!

Terri Coverley:
Did you send an e-mail this morning, about me, calling me a c*nt?

Oliver Reeder:
No! No, I never use that word, let alone about you, no, absolutely, I won't use it until, you know, it's been fully normalized and has no further assosiation with the... female twat.

Hugh Abbott:
Is Tucker in the building?

Oliver Reeder:
"Malcolm in the Middle".

Hugh Abbott:
Hm?

Oliver Reeder:
It's what we call him, 'cause he can stand in the middle of the atrium, just shout all across.

Hugh Abbott:
I don't wanna see him, not at the moment, I can't take one of his scenes from "The Exorsist" just now.

Malcolm Tucker:
Right. How're you doing, in sorting out whether he lied or not, you doing ok?

Oliver Reeder:
Pretty well, yeah.

Malcolm Tucker:
Is that a lie?

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah.

Malcolm Tucker:
That is not f***ing funny, you retard!... I'm sorry about that, Glenn, the situation's just...

Hugh Abbott:
Is Tucker in the building?

Oliver Reeder:
"Malcolm in the Middle".

Hugh Abbott:
Hm?

Oliver Reeder:
It's what we call him, 'cause he can stand in the middle of the atrium, just shout all around.

Hugh Abbott:
I don't wanna see him, not at the moment, I can't take one of his scenes from "The Exorcist" just now.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] He's making Paul Remmington a cabinet minister. Rem-tard Remmington. I mean the guy is an epic f***-up. He's so dense, that light bends around him.

Malcolm Tucker:
I've got a to-do list here that's longer than a f***ing Leonard Cohen song.

Glenn Cullen:
Well. That's Hugh gone then.

Terri Coverley:
That's so sad, isn't it... Hugh.

Oliver Reeder:
You don't give a sh*t!

Terri Coverley:
No, perhaps I don't.

Oliver Reeder:
Northern Ireland office - Tom Rudd. Who's Tom Rudd? Tom Rudd?

Terri Coverley:
Isn't he in Harry Potter?

Glenn Cullen:
Tom Rudd is army slang for standing up buggery.

Oliver Reeder:
Awwww... Look at Glenn... Your face. On the scrap heap at the tender age of 76, it's no life for you, is it - Glenn-nes. Hey, do you want me to call Dignitas? I could call Indignitas. They could come around and shove you out of the window, dressed as a clown.

Nicola Murray:
I'm not nervous, you know, it's just Malcolm's sort of one of those things that I'm aware of without ever having really coming to contact with. Like a rat.

Oliver Reeder:
No, he'd hate that. He thinks of himself as a sort of thin white Mugabe.

Malcolm Tucker:
All right, Hinge and Bracket. It's time to hang up your lady c*cks.

Malcolm Tucker:
Is that you chair?

Nicola Murray:
Oh god, yeah. It's cool, isn't it? It's got lumbar support.

Malcolm Tucker:
Bin it. People don't like their politicians to be comfortable. They don't like you having expences, they don't like you being paid, they rather you lived in a f***ing cave.

Nicola Murray:
Okay, fine. So what should I be sitting on? Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?

Malcolm Tucker:
A f***ing normal chair, right? Not a f***ing massive vibrating throne!

Nicola Murray:
Katie's sixteen, she's the oldest. She's just left the school.

Malcolm Tucker:
Not going to a college, a university?

Nicola Murray:
Umm, she's a bit of a rebel.

Malcolm Tucker:
What sort of a rebel? What are we talking here, are we talking a pierced navel or holidays in Pakistani training camp?

Nicola Murray:
It's chiefly heroin. Although she has cut down since getting pregnant by that Nigerian people smuggler, because the track marks would have affected her porn carreer.

Nicola Murray:
I thought you'd know about the kids.

Malcolm Tucker:
It's just that you were a sort of late-ish kind of appointement. That didn't quite give me the time to to f*** the i's and fist the t's, as Robert Robertson might say.

Nicola Murray:
My family is off limits, alright? This job is not going to get anywhere near my husband and my kids. Just doesn't.

Malcolm Tucker:
Of course it f***ing does, as per the wee bar code and the serial number under your right armpit you are now built and owned by this state and you're under the spotlight 24 hours a day, darling! You know what you are? You're a f***ing human dart board. And Eric f***ing Bristow's on the oche throwing a million darts made of human sh*t right at you!

Malcolm Tucker:
You hit the phones, right? I'll be with you in two shakes of a crying baby.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] Well you know, Howard, she's not bent, either in the sense of being corrupt or being gay. And by the way, that's an incredibly homophobic headline, you massive poof. You've got egg on your face, Howard, you over-easy piss-bag.

Nicola Murray:
I don't use lifts, I'm claustrophobic.

Malcolm Tucker:
You're what?

Nicola Murray:
Not hugely - I can be in rooms, you've seen that. I just don't do lifts, that's all.

Malcolm Tucker:
This lift is... I mean, it's f***ing huge! This is bigger than some rooms! This is bigger than some people's flats!

Nicola Murray:
It's about not being able to get out.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, well that's great. That's f***ing great. That's another f***ing thing, right there. Not only you've got a f***ing bent husband and a f***ing daughter that gets taken to school on a f***ing sedan chair, you're also f***ing mental! Jesus Christ, see you, you are a f***ing omni-shambles, that's what you are. You're like that coffee machine, you know, "From bean to cup, you f*** up."

Malcolm Tucker:
Glenn. See this Dickensian hysteric who's just gone home? Here's what you do, right? You're make out you're the Great Oz, yeah? You make a big noise to impress Nicola. But secretly, you're wanking behind the curtain to me all the time.

Glenn Cullen:
You want me to pass information on to you?

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't kill yourself, well not over this, you know. I just want you to make her feel good, you know? You can be a friend of Dorothy's, can't ya? Then we'll all get some f***ing peace around here!

Malcolm Tucker:
[to a fellow Communications guy] Hey, well done on Fatty's profile! Very very good! I nearly liked the enormous f***er reading it!

Malcolm Tucker:
The PM is not going to sack you after a week. Sacked after 12 months - looks live you've f***ed up. Sacked after a week - looks like he's f***ed up.

Malcolm Tucker:
Could you just pull in over here? And you could take out that cyclist as you go in, I think he's shadow cabinet.

Glenn Cullen:
It's my duty to advise you of appendix 4 of a Data Protection Acts advisory note to government departments.

Nicola Murray:
Sounds like you're arresting me. Appendix what?

Robyn Murdoch:
Shut it, we ask the questions here, ma'am.

Nicola Murray:
Somebody has just done a huge poo on my desk and I want it cleared up.

Terri Coverley:
My bum is clean, it's clean as a whistle.

Malcolm Tucker:
Morning, desk-jockeys. Is glummy-mummy in?

Oliver Reeder:
I think she's on the phone.

Malcolm Tucker:
All right. Why don't I just cool my heels here?

Robyn Murdoch:
Do you know, Malcolm? The best way to clear a paper jam?

Malcolm Tucker:
I don't know. Kill a kid an hour until it sorts itself out?

Malcolm Tucker:
Little pigs... Little pigs. Let me come in. Don't worry about the hair on the chiny-chin-chin.

Nicola Murray:
So, what was your call?

Malcolm Tucker:
What was my call? You want to know what my call was?

Nicola Murray:
Was it important?

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm sorry, I didn't realise that I had to run all my calls through your bed-wetters switchboard here. I usually just dial 118.

Nicola Murray:
Malcolm, do you know?

Oliver Reeder:
Obviously he knows.

Glenn Cullen:
No, he doesn't know...

Nicola Murray:
There has been a massive irretrievable data loss. The last 7 months worth of new immigrant details have gone, apparently lost in the computer.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh... [laughs] Do you know what's really f***ing sad here is that I don't have the energy to pretend I already knew. Which is for the best, because I'm gonna need all of my f***ing energy to f***ing rip all of your bodies to bits with my bare hands and sell off, yes, sell off your f***ing flayed skin as a sleeping bag to a f***ing normal person!

Nicola Murray:
Can I just say that getting angry isn't gonna help anything. I've done anger, I'm currently at grief, I'm working my way towards bargaining, whatever, you know, you're behind me...

Malcolm Tucker:
So, what is your great strategy for dealing with this? Come on, I'm f***ing all ears. I'm f***ing Andrew Marr here.

Nicola Murray:
So let's... Terri, let's hear what you...

Malcolm Tucker:
Let's go, let's get going. High-level technical discussion, I'm up for it.

Terri Coverley:
Right. Blaming the departmenet, minister, might be a high-risk strategy.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, high-risk. Saucy. Pass F.

Nicola Murray:
My pitch would be - this departement is fatally flawed. It's out of condition, it's obese, it's astmatic.

Malcolm Tucker:
That's it girl, back over the net.

Glenn Cullen:
You need to be really sure about that, Nicola.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes, wise words from the distinguished elderly gay f***ing tennis coach here.

Oliver Reeder:
Seriously, I think we should talk about my strategy futher because I really think that's the way...

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, the f***ing wee boy is having a go now with his f***ing tiny shorts on. [to Robyn] What about Sue Barker's little sister here? What's she got to say? You've got something to say to add to the conversation?

Robyn Murdoch:
No, just that there was no Lemon zinger so uhm... This is coffee, is that alright?

Malcolm Tucker:
You're a new broom, you're sweeping up trouble with one end, broom handling incompetent staff up the tunnel with the other.

Malcolm Tucker:
Please don't get up, I'm not Viagra.

Malcolm Tucker:
John, how you doing. I just want to tell you, I really enjoyed your novel.

John:
Oh, thank you very much.

Malcolm Tucker:
Way of writing a f***ing awful story.

Nicola Murray:
[after telling a journalist about the data loss incident] I'm sorry Malcolm, I'm really sorry...

Malcolm Tucker:
... F***'s sake! Jesus Christ! Well now we've got another f***ing adjective to add to to f***ing smug and glum, haven't we?... F***ing retarded!! Jesus Christ! Do you not think it would be germane to check who you're talking to... It's a f***ing newspaper office! It's not a f***ing sanatorium for the f***ing deaf, is it? Are you so dense?!! Am I gonna have to run around slapping badges on people with a big tick on some, and a big cross on others so you know when to shut your gob and when to open it? Jesus Christ... Oh but that'd probably confuse you as well, won't it, that'd be too confusing, you'd see a cross and go "Oh, X marks the spot, better tell this little person all about the Prime Minister's f***ing catastrophic erectile dysfunction." Oh but, not to worry, not to worry, you've sent f***ing Ollie over there to deal with it... F***ing Ollie! He's a f***ing knitted scarf, that twat, he's a f***ing balaclava!

Malcolm Tucker:
So do you think this is gonna advance your career? Is this you moving forward?

Marianne Swift:
At least my career has got a trajectory, whereas yours is about to crash head-on into a change of governement.

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't you worry girl, because I can still f***ing steer some f***ing flaming wreckage right in your f***ing direction.

Marianne Swift:
Yeah, I tell you what, once it's printed I promise I come'll back to you for a reaction quote, how's that?

Malcolm Tucker:
Darlin', I wouldn't f***ing piss on you if you were f***ing allergic to piss, right?

Nicola Murray:
Terri?

Terri Coverley:
Yes.

Nicola Murray:
Where in the civil service guidelines does it say it's absolutely fine to leave your minister alone with a hostile journalist, if you just can't be arsed to walk down the stairs?

Terri Coverley:
I'd already pressed the buton.

Malcolm Tucker:
Get over here. Now. Might be advisable to wear brown trousers and a shirt the colour of blood.

Malcolm Tucker:
I just wanted to say to you by the way of introductory remarks that I'm extremely miffed about today's events and in my quest to try to make you understand the level of my unhappines, I'm likely to use an awful lot of - what we would call - violent sexual imagery and I just wanted to check that neither of you would be terribly offended by that.

Nicola Murray:
I could actually do without the theatrics I think, Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
Enough! E-f***ing-nough. You need to learn to shut your f***ing cave. Right? Today, you have laid your first big fat egg of solid f***. You took the data loss media strategy and you ate with a lump of E.coli. And then you sprayed it our of your arse at 300 mph.

Nicola Murray:
I simply made a mistake.

Malcolm Tucker:
You got on the record and off the record f***ing mixed up! What would have happened if like George Martin would have done that? They wouldn't be no f***ing Beatles, that's what. No, I don't give a f*** about that. I'd have to f***ing sit next to Paul McCartney in f***ing checkers!

Nicola Murray:
The data loss wasn't my fault.

Malcolm Tucker:
Fine, yeah, but I tell you what. It came out f***ing pretty fast once you were in there, didn't it? Which makes me wonder - should I just go and talk to the boss, should I go and tell him "I don't think she's up to the job."

Nicola Murray:
You said yourself if he sacks me after a week that looks like HE's f***ed up.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, but that was before; When your only problem was a f***ing sh*t pun in a newspaper and a face like Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle.

Nicola Murray:
Okay I messed up. Right? I messed up, but... I will from now on listen to every bit of advice you give me. I'll go on Question Time wearing a push up bra and a fez. I'll do the hustings on stilts if that's what you tell me the strategy is because you know about that stuff, Malcolm I know that. It's just that I've got things that I want to do, alright?

Malcolm Tucker:
Of course you do, like Montessori f***ing rocking horses I suppose.

Nicola Murray:
No no no.

Malcolm Tucker:
The Mail have the motherload on this - right? So that means there's a way through this for us but it entails you, my dear, eating a complete concrete mixer full of humble pie.

Terri Coverley:
Right, what's the strategy?

Malcolm Tucker:
The Kraken awakes!

Terri Coverley:
No no - it's just that this is the first bit of the meeting that hasn't been about expletives and fezes and stilts and teabagging. I mean, this is the bit that relates to media management.

Malcolm Tucker:
I didn't say anything about teabagging. Do you even know what teabagging is?

Terri Coverley:
Not really, no. I'm told it's unpleasant. Who'd you want me to call?

Malcolm Tucker:
The Mail. Get The Mail in. Okay, come on, The Cheeky Girls, that's it, back on tour.

Oliver Reeder:
Glenn, mate... What would you do if you found that a dongle that everyone had thought was lost was right at the bottom of your second best bag?

Glenn Cullen:
I don't think, we'd want it back. Right now, Ollie, Nicola hates us but if she knew we'd found it - she'd start laughing. Hating is better than laughing. Trust me.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] We need to pursuade Matt Delany not to cross the floor. I think we should use "The Carrot and The Stick" approach - you take the carrot and you stick it up his f***ing arse, followed by the stick, followed by an even bigger, rougher carrot.

Glenn Cullen:
Ah, you got past mad conference security, then.

Nicola Murray:
It's bonkers, isn't it? It's like trying to get through Israeli customs wearing a t-shirt saying "I heart bombing Israel".

Glenn Cullen:
Listen, John, on the outside chance she might just prefer to meet a human being, I'm going down with you.

Oliver Reeder:
Good idea. You could buy her a coffee. You could buy her a collapse-achino.

John Duggan:
Might bring back memories of her Latte husband. As in late husband. [to Ollie] Like Dick and Dom, aren't we? Great chemistry.

Glenn Cullen:
Except neither one of you are Doms.

Terri Coverley:
I heard he's about as useless as a chocolate teapot.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone to the PM] I'm sorry, cheif, there's no way I can spin this health stats stuff, they're f***ed. We'll have to put something else in the speech. Yeah, I don't know. Uhm... What about the missus? Can we bring her out again? Well, she basically has that thing of appearing to be a normal human being, that seems to play well.

Glenn Cullen:
Are you in on this?

John Duggan:
Oh, no, I'm just obeying orders. Like a Nazi guard, but in a non-gassy way.

Glenn Cullen:
I don't think that Malcolm saw my point of view. I got punched.

Malcolm Tucker:
[Glenn's in the bathroom after Tucker punched him. Tucker comes into the room] Where's the patient?

Glenn Cullen:
I don't wanna speak to you right now, Malcolm.

Nicola Murray:
I think you should leave.

Malcolm Tucker:
Do you?

Nicola Murray:
Yes. What, you gonna hit me?

Malcolm Tucker:
I don't f***ing hit women.

Oliver Reeder:
Except Glenn, obviously.

Malcolm Tucker:
Just f***ing leave Glenn out of this. Glenn's been through enough as it is. Listen mate, I'm really... I'm really sorry about what happened at the heat of the f***ing moment, yeah? I'm under a lot of pressure right now. I'm trying to plug a lot of leaks. I've had my finger in the dyke but the dyke's really very squirty.

Oliver Reeder:
As in Fat Pat? I've heard that she's a...

Malcolm Tucker:
Shut up. We're old soldiers, right? This is like the war time, ok? I mean, every now and then you're gonna get an incedent of friendly fire. Yeah?

Glenn Cullen:
Yeah.

Malcolm Tucker:
Good man.

Malcolm Tucker:
Let's roll some tits up the flagpole and see if anyone gets wood.

Glenn Cullen:
I feel I'm in a therapy group being run by my own rapist.

Malcolm Tucker:
[wearing a tuxedo] Believe me, I'd like to slip into something a lot more comfortable, like a coma.

John Duggan:
Hey, Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
Shite to see you, to see you...

John Duggan:
Shite!

Malcolm Tucker:
I know you leaked the punch story.

John Duggan:
Fisty-gate.

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't call it that! Where did you hear that?

Nicola Murray:
[on the phone] Hi Terri.

Terri Coverley:
Hi. It's Julie. She Tweets.

Malcolm Tucker:
Squeeze my cock and call me Nancy! Were you born in a barn, Glenn? Keep your door and your arse-cheeks f***ing tightly closed, right? Jesus Christ, that's a tiny kettle!

Oliver Reeder:
What happened to Terri? She looks like a female-impersonator.

Emma Messinger:
I wonder if we'd get to sneak up on Ollie and catch him not working.

Phil Smith:
Better still, I'd like to see him getting bollocked by Malcolm. [Scottish accent] I'm going to rip out your bladder and wear it as a bandana.

Peter Mannion:
Morning comrades! How's the revolution? Tanks on their lawn at last, f***-a-doodle-doo.

Phil Smith:
Stewart's very keen on using our visit to DoSAC as a scouting exercise.

Peter Mannion:
Well, I'm very keen on using Stewart's mouth as an ashtray, doesn't mean I'd do it.

Malcolm Tucker:
When the Opposition's here, ou tell them nothing except where the toilets are, and you lie about that.

Janice:
And it all goes out live, so absolutely no swearing.

Nicola Murray:
No swearing? Now we can all thank our f***y stars for that.

Oliver Reeder:
Let's make the mood a bit nicer, a bit sexier [turns out the lamp] .

Emma Messinger:
Sorry, Ollie, I need that light.

Oliver Reeder:
Sorry, I was just being romantic. Like I was ordered to by the Romance Nazi.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] No, I don't give a f*** whose birthday it is. I'm gonna enjoy myself here, listening to this Murray/Mannion ding-dong on the radio. The fat-cat's story breaking, so the Opposition are gonna be sweating like Vegas Elvis on a squash court.

Sam:
[Sam comes in with a box] Happy Birthday Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
Stop saying that, right? Just you go home. What is this? Is this my new anal beads? OK, this has been X-Rayed, yeah? I'm not gonna get a f***ing present bomb in the face. [opens the box. inside is a cake with "Happy Birthday C*nt" written on it] . This could be from anyone. [reads the card that says "Love. The Prime Minister"] It's from Prime Minister. This is f***ing Tom's idea of a joke. He wonders why we don't let him out in public.

Emma Messinger:
[turns on the radio] I gotta listen to this Richard Bacon thing.

Oliver Reeder:
Talk radio! Sexy! Don't worry, I've done some of my best shagging to Caesar the Geezer.

Emma Messinger:
Could you just stop talking sh*t for a second so we could listen to your boss talking sh*t?

Oliver Reeder:
You know when your mom walked out, you think maybe it wasn't just about your dad?

Peter Mannion:
Some of my best friends are money-grabbing wankers.

Malcolm Tucker:
F*** me! This is like a clown running across a minefield!

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone to Glenn] Are you producing porno now for the visually impared?

Glenn Cullen:
What?

Malcolm Tucker:
Because what's happening here on the radio is Nicola Murray getting roundly f***ed. What is it, bukake at bedtime?

Peter Mannion:
We need to say No to the Nanny State. Boo to Nanny, and claw back some personal responsibility in the name of common sence.

Glenn Cullen:
Oh, hello. Nice dinner?

Emma Messinger:
F*** off, bagpuss.

Peter Mannion:
And as we speak, who should come rolling along the corridor but Malcolm Tucker, the man who was once refered to as the Gorbals Goebbels.

Malcolm Tucker:
That's your f***ing career over, right? Okay, you're f***ing dead. And those three little words, "Tim in Ruislip", are the f***ing nails in your coffin, dear. [IMITATES HAMMERING] Tim. In. Ruislip. Tim in f***ing Ruislip. And as for Tim in f***ing...

Janice:
Yeah, okay, can you stop f***ing saying that, please?

Malcolm Tucker:
...f***ing Ruislip, he's f***ing dead as well! That f***ing texting coward. Give me his number. What's his f***ing number? Give me the f***ing number of Tim in Ruislip. If you don't give me his f***ing number, do you know what I'm gonna have to do? I'm gonna have to f***ing go to f***ing Ruislip and f***ing snap the thumb and forefinger off of every single person I see who I think resembles the kind of wanker that would be walking around in this day and f***ing age with a name like f***ing Tim! How do you think that sounds, huh?

Malcolm Tucker:
Here's the f***ing thing. Nobody talks about f***ing dodgy donors, okay? Because it makes everybody look bad.

Stewart Pearson:
Okay, I'll go with a different angle, then. How do you think it would land with your female voters if they were to find out that Tom Rudd forced his secretary into having an abortion?

Malcolm Tucker:
That was her own personal choice and by the way, it wasn't his.

Stewart Pearson:
Wow! So him paying for that private clinic, then, was just because he's such a nice man?

Malcolm Tucker:
He IS a nice man. What about your nice man at central planning, eh? The one who got a bit carried away and f***ing slapped his kids about a little bit too much? F***ing broke the skin! But he wasn't such a nice man, was he? But I suppose that's just part of your common sense checklist, yeah. All they need is a good slap, and do please remember to leave your f***ing rings on!

Stewart Pearson:
You go check your facts, Malcolm, that was a domestic accident and nothing more.

Malcolm Tucker:
Domestic accident, yeah, 'cause he's got f***ing hands the size of f***ing doors!

Stewart Pearson:
Oh, you want to talk about hardmen, Malcolm, yeah? Now, I know you've got to be hard to be a chief whip, but really, coke dealing at university?

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh! Please, please!

Stewart Pearson:
Hey, am I right in thinking he's now godfather to one of the PM's kids, yeah?

Malcolm Tucker:
Listen, you know what I have got at the back of my f***ing filing cabinet? I have got a f***ing photograph that I've been waiting for a f***ing rainy day to show everyone, which is a photograph of your f***ing shadow chancellor at one of his f***ing parties dressed up in f***ing bra, suspenders and f***ing blackface! What's his defence going to be, hey, when I email that to the f***ing Sun? "Oh, well, I am just de shadow chancellor."

Stewart Pearson:
Malcolm, he won't have a defence because you haven't got that picture because that didn't happen.

Malcolm Tucker:
I have!

Stewart Pearson:
However, I do have a statement from a rent boy...

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, that's very useful for you. You can claim that against your expenses, can't you?

Stewart Pearson:
Oh, yeah, funny, very funny.

Malcolm Tucker:
And you'll get that for free. Is that one of the f***ing perks of the job?

Stewart Pearson:
No, listen, his statement says he will swear that one of your prominent back-bench MPs paid him to sh*t on his chest.

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't!

Stewart Pearson:
Right, look, this is out of order, okay? Here's the deal. We both, both make statements saying that our guys in there, they were not in possession of all the facts. Hmm? But we're looking into it.

Malcolm Tucker:
You'd do that? Hang your own guy out to f***ing dry?

Stewart Pearson:
What? Peter Mannion, MP? Yeah! Old guard? We're not sending him to DoSAC to fatten him up, we're putting him out to pasture, Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
We should just go home.

Stewart Pearson:
We can do that. We can just seal this in. Contain the toxicity. Chernobyl FM.

Malcolm Tucker:
I mean, you carry on like this and I might not find you utterly f***ing contemptible.

Malcolm Tucker:
Here's the f***ing thing. Nobody talks about f***ing dodgy donors, okay? Because it makes everybody look bad.

Stewart Pearson:
Okay, I'll go with a different angle, then. How do you think it would land with your female voters if they were to find out that Tom Rudd forced his secretary into having an abortion?

Malcolm Tucker:
That was her own personal choice and, by the way, it wasn't his.

Stewart Pearson:
Wow! So him paying for that private clinic, then, was just because he's such a nice man?

Malcolm Tucker:
He is a nice man. What about your nice man at central planning, eh? The one who got a bit carried away and f***ing slapped his kids about a little bit too much? F***ing broke the skin! But he wasn't such a nice man, was he? But I suppose that's just part of your common sense checklist, yeah. All they need is a good slap, and do please remember to leave your f***ing rings on!

Stewart Pearson:
You go check your facts, Malcolm, that was a domestic accident and nothing more.

Malcolm Tucker:
Domestic accident, yeah, 'cause he's got f***ing hands the size of f***ing doors!

Stewart Pearson:
Oh, you want to talk about hardmen, Malcolm, yeah? Now, I know you've got to be hard to be a chief whip, but really, coke dealing at university? Hey, am I right in thinking he's now godfather to one of the PM's kids, yeah?

Malcolm Tucker:
Listen, you know what I have got at the back of my f***ing filing cabinet? I have got a f***ing photograph that I've been waiting for a f***ing rainy day to show everyone, which is a photograph of your f***ing shadow chancellor at one of his f***ing parties dressed up in f***ing bra, suspenders and f***ing blackface! What's his defence going to be, hey, when I email that to the f***ing "Sun"? [mockingly] "Oh, well, I am just de shadow chancellor."

Stewart Pearson:
Malcolm, he won't have a defence because you haven't got that picture because that didn't happen.

Malcolm Tucker:
I have!

Stewart Pearson:
However, I do have a statement from a rent boy...

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, that's very useful for you. You can claim that against your expenses, can't you?

Stewart Pearson:
Oh, yeah, funny, very funny.

Malcolm Tucker:
And you'll get that for free. Is that one of the f***ing perks of the job?

Stewart Pearson:
No, listen, his statement says he will swear that one of your prominent back-bench MPs paid him to sh*t on his chest.

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't!

Stewart Pearson:
Right, look, this is out of order, okay? Here's the deal. We both, both make statements saying that our guys in there, they were not in possession of all the facts. Hmm? But we're looking into it.

Malcolm Tucker:
You'd do that? Hang your own guy out to f***ing dry?

Stewart Pearson:
What? Peter Mannion, MP? Yeah! Old guard? We're not sending him to DoSAC to fatten him up, we're putting him out to pasture, Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
We should just go home.

Stewart Pearson:
We can do that. We can just seal this in. Contain the toxicity. Chernobyl FM.

Malcolm Tucker:
I mean, you carry on like this and I might not find you utterly f***ing contemptible.

Stewart Pearson:
That's an incentive. I'll get my bag.

Malcolm Tucker:
[responding to Terri's accusations of being wrong] How f***ing dare you? Have you any idea of the amount of pressure that has been exerted on my skull, huh? It feels like my brain has been f***ing emptied into little packets, into f***ing crisp packets. Cheese and onion f***ing crisp packets that contain my living, breathing f***ing brain.

Terri Coverley:
Malcolm, I'm really sorry. I...

Malcolm Tucker:
And these crisp packets, cheese and onion, smoky bacon, have been stomped on. They've been f***ing stomped on! Ben, f***ing Nicola...

Terri Coverley:
I didn't mean to be horrid.

Malcolm Tucker:
And f***ing you!

Terri Coverley:
I'm sorry.

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Terri Coverley:
I'm sorry.

Malcolm Tucker:
No, I'm over it, okay? Don't you apologise. Don't you f***ing apologise. You don't need to apologise. I love this place. I do. I mean, f***ing, compared to Number 10, this place is f***ing tranquil, yeah? Over there, 300 yards down the road, I mean, it's like a f***ing cancer ward. I mean, there are people in there, they're f***ing screaming at each other. They are screaming, "You gave me this f***ing disease." "You gave me this f***ing disease." And every corner that I turn there's another threat, Terri. Hacks, hacks, f***ing vampire hacks. And they're slaughtering us, Terri. They are f***ing slaughtering us and they want my face for a flannel! And you know what? I used to be the f***ing pharaoh, Terri. I used to be the f***ing pharaoh. Now I'm f***ing floundering in a f***ing Nile of sh*t. But I am going to fashion a paddle out of that sh*t. Yeah?

Terri Coverley:
Good idea.

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm not going down. I am not going down. Yeah?

Terri Coverley:
Yeah.

Malcolm Tucker:
How are you feeling about things?

Terri Coverley:
Well, you know, I'm just trying to do my best and, you know, make sure I can still get home by 6:00. Do you want a huggle?

Malcolm Tucker:
No, I think... That's nice of you. I really appreciate it. Terri, it's been nice to have a chat but I have to get on. Let's get back on track.

Oliver Reeder:
[after Tukcer leaves] What did he say?

Terri Coverley:
I don't know. It was all about ancient Egypt.

Ben Swain:
Look at this: a takeaway and a fight. All I need now is a handjob in a bus shelter, and I've had the Great British Night Out. [everybody groans]

Glenn Cullen:
Malcolm's got to keep moving or he's dead. He's like a shark, or Bob Dylan.

Malcolm Tucker:
I was golfing with Stephen hawking. He's f***ing sh*t. He lied about his handicap. mind you, I never hired a golf buggy. I just sat in his lap.

Other:
We both know we don't like each other - everyone knows that. We are the Gallagher brothers of politics

Malcolm Tucker:
How does that work? Does that mean I'm the semi-talented songwriter and you're f***ing loutish prick? That's a lovely analogy.

Steve Fleming:
I'm just saying I'll gladly lend you a hand if you need to keep your head down.

Malcolm Tucker:
I don't ned to keep my head down because unlike yourself I don't give blowj*bs to truckers.

Steve Fleming:
I'm gonna join Dan Miller's cabal and then we are gonna take you down, down to Funky Town! Funky Town Central, here we come! Choo-f***ing-choo!

Peter Mannion:
I have a feeling management style has just gone from touchy-feely to smashy-testes.

Malcolm Tucker:
What the f*** is this? Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, C*nt?

Stewart Pearson:
I've spent ten years detoxifying this party. It's been a bit like renovating an old, old house, yeah? You can take out a sexist beam here, a callous window there, replace the odd homophobic roof tile. But after a while you realise that this renovation is doomed. Because the foundations are built on what I can only describe as a solid bed of c*nts.

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm gonna leave the stage with my head held f***ing high. What you're gonna see is a master class in f***ing dignity, son. The audience will be on their feet. "There he goes!", they'll say. No friends - no *real* friends. No children, no glory, no memoirs. Well, f*** them.

Malcolm Tucker:
You know Jackie f***ing Chan about me. You know f*** all about me! I am totally beyond the realms of your f***in' tousle-haired f***in' dim-witted compre-f***ing-hension. I don't just take this f***ing job home, you know! I take this job home, it f***ing ties me to the bed, and it f***in' f***s me from arsehole to breakfast! Then it wakes me up in the morning with a cup full of piss slammed in my face, slaps me about the chops to make sure I'm awake enough so it can kick me in the f***ing bollocks! This job has taken me in every hole in my f***ing body. "Malcolm!", it's gone, you can't know Malcolm because Malcolm is not here! Malcolm f***ing left the building f***ing years ago! This is a f***ing husk, I am a f***ing host for this f***ing job. Do you want this job? Yes? You do f***ing want this job? Then you're gonna have to swallow this whole f***ing life and let it grow inside you like a parasite, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it f***ing eats your insides alive and it stares out of your eyes and tells you what to do.

Malcolm Tucker:
[Malcolm is trying to find the back door on a police station, to avoid the press. He and his lawyer got lost and ended up in a room full of garbage]

Malcolm Tucker:
This is literally rubbish!

Oliver Reeder:
Well, who says I even want to be you, Malcolm? Who says that?

Malcolm Tucker:
Nobody says that. [pauses] Except every screaming atom of that etiolated stick of f*** you call a body says that. Every fibre of your being, every stamen... says that.

Malcolm Tucker:
I knew Malcolm F Tucker, sir. And you are not Malcolm F***ing Tucker. You're not even f***ing Manchester's top Malcolm Tucker tribute band. And trying to be me, you? Trying to be me will f***ing kill you. I give you 18 months before you're a washed-out, weeping alcoholic with no f***ing bladder control. Sleeping on your brother-in-law's sofa.

Oliver Reeder:
And so on and so on, it doesn't have to be like that now, Malcolm, politics has actually changed.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh?

Oliver Reeder:
Right. Yeah, yeah. And you probably haven't noticed because you've been on transmit for the last f***ing eight years Waa-waa-waa-waa-waa! And whilst you've been doing that, everybody else has been changing, and it's all a bit softcore now, it's all a bit algorithms now. You don't have to be Malcolm Tucker to sit in that chair.

Stewart Pearson:
Peter, you appear to have a car radio attached to your bath. Hey Peter, have you pimped your tub?

Phil Smith:
[on phone] Stewart is keen for you to go on News 24...

Emma Messinger:
He is going on News 24.

Peter Mannion:
...wants you to go on News 24, he wants you to do a bit of "praise him" "praise him" about the PM, you know go all backed in...

Peter Mannion:
Oh God no, sorry I really don't wanna do that.

Phil Smith:
No No of course you don't want to do that, no one wants to do that...

Emma Messinger:
What's he saying?

Phil Smith:
It's my phone call.

Emma Messinger:
Put him on loudspeaker will you.

Phil Smith:
I don't want to put him on loudspeaker... no I'm talking to him...

Emma Messinger:
[turns on the loudspeaker] Peter, hi it's Emma, listen Stewart says this really is the strategy.

Peter Mannion:
We're supposed to be the Opposition for Chrissakes, in the old days we wouldn't have been weeping over his grave, we'd have been pissing on it.

Emma Messinger:
If we start point scoring now, we're just going to look like opportunist weasels.

Peter Mannion:
Well, weasily done.

Emma Messinger:
What?

Peter Mannion:
It's "weasily done".

Phil Smith:
It's a joke.

Emma Messinger:
That was a joke?

Peter Mannion:
Tell Stewart I'm not doing it, tell him bollocks to it. Tell him to f*** off.

Emma Messinger:
Tell Stewart to... now Peter that's not a very good idea now is it?

Peter Mannion:
Not actually to f*** off, just make an excuse, pretty it up. But when you do tell him, make sure he knows, reading between the lines, that I told you to tell him to f*** off, but you're prettying it up.

Jamie:
Are you a horse?

Cliff Lawton:
Sorry?

Jamie:
Are you a f***ing horse?

Cliff Lawton:
Um... dunno... what you mean... wh...

Jamie:
Are you a f***ing horse?

Cliff Lawton:
Ok... No I'm not a horse.

Jamie:
Are you sure?

Cliff Lawton:
I'm sure.

Jamie:
You got a pretty f***ing horsey face, and a bit of a horsey wife... are you a f***ing horse? Are you?

Cliff Lawton:
Ok, leaving the wife aside for a second...

Jamie:
Are you a horse?

Cliff Lawton:
No...

Jamie:
EXACTLY!

Cliff Lawton:
-Categorically say I'm not a horse

Jamie:
You're not a f***ing horse. You're no horse, and you're not a stalking horse. You are the real thing. We will ram you up Tom's arse so hard that he will have to sh*t out of his lying mouth.

Cliff Lawton:
Not a very nice image. It's motivating...

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Cliff Lawton] I'd love to stop and chat to you but I'd rather have type 2 diabetes.

Cliff Lawton:
Malcolm!

Malcolm Tucker:
Elvis! Sorry, sorry, Cliff. Where are you off to?

Cliff Lawton:
I'm actually off to see and old collegue, you know, back from the old days, before you asked me to resign.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, lovely, lovely. Well, look, I'd love to stop and chat but I'd rather have type 2 diabetes.

Cliff Lawton:
Yes, f*** you.

Malcolm Tucker:
Happy New Year.

Malcolm Tucker:
Has anybody seen Jamie?

Glenn Cullen:
Why? Have you lost him?

Oliver Reeder:
Don't tell me he's gone feral, 'cause he was f***ing terrifying when you had him on the leash!

Malcolm Tucker:
Let's not overreact.

Oliver Reeder:
Easy for you to say, he threatened to shove an ipod up my cock!

Malcolm Tucker:
You get that alot, though, don't you?

Glenn Cullen:
Tom's lot has gone into a huddle.

Oliver Reeder:
What, already?

Glenn Cullen:
This is it, you know. This is where it begins. Who's in, who's out. Fatty is out.

Oliver Reeder:
At least he'll spend more time with his fridge. [Tucker arrives]

Malcolm Tucker:
Has anybody seen Jamie?

Glenn Cullen:
Why? Have you lost him?

Oliver Reeder:
Don't tell me he's gone feral, 'cause he was f***ing terrifying when you had him on the leash!

Malcolm Tucker:
Let's not overreact.

Oliver Reeder:
Easy for you to say, he threatened to shove an ipod up my cock!

Malcolm Tucker:
You get that alot, though, don't you? Who it is that's booked to go on Today tomorrow, do you know?

Terri Coverley:
I could find out...

Glenn Cullen:
It could be Bob Ryan. [everyone laughs]

Oliver Reeder:
That's exactly who it's gonna be.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah Glenn, probably Bob Ryan. For f***'s sake! Have you gone back in f***ing time? Yeah, I believe Disraeli's standing as well.

Terri Coverley:
And Oliver Cromwell.

Oliver Reeder:
Also fish who hasn't crowled onto the land yet to form the first tetrapod. [everyone stare at him] I was hearing maybe... Geoff Holhurst?

Malcolm Tucker:
Geoff? No f***ing way, no, he's ruled himself out for definite. Mind you, I could always go and fire a warning shot across his throat.

Robyn Murdoch:
I just don't know what to say when the bloggers and the diary writers hit me with "what about this rumor?". I'm just not comfortable lying.

Terri Coverley:
Oh for God's sake, Robyn. Bloggers! Just tell them to bloody well sod off to their grubby dingy little bedrooms.

Robyn Murdoch:
Now I'm getting calls about Geoff Holhurst, about him standing.

Oliver Reeder:
About Geoff? Calls about that already?

Terri Coverley:
Geoff Holhurst? For leader? That would be extraordinary, very bizzare, he's got such a tiny head!

Oliver Reeder:
You're right, actually, he's got a miniature head!

Robyn Murdoch:
Is Geoff's tiny head standing? Is he out in the cold?

Glenn Cullen:
[watching Dan Miller on TV] You don't think he's got a chance, do you?

Oliver Reeder:
No, he's just a droid, isn't he? He's just... [makes bleeping noises]

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey hey, don't leat him hear you doing that sort of stuff! What happens if he does stand a chance, eh? He'll f*** you harder than Ron Jeremy and with less warmth.

Ben Swain:
Hi Glenn.

Glenn Cullen:
Ben. How's everything with you? How's the huddle? What is the next mooove?

Ben Swain:
The next mooove, my aged retainer, will be the next mooove.

Glenn Cullen:
Oh well, gosh, I got to write that down, does it mean anything?

Robyn Murdoch:
Someone has leaked some things about, you know, immigration policy and the computers and the Mail would like to know what our line is.

Glenn Cullen:
For f***'s sake, that's not a priority, stonewall it.

Robyn Murdoch:
But I can't just say...

Oliver Reeder:
Give them the cold cock, Robyn.

Robyn Murdoch:
What is the cold cock?

Glenn Cullen:
Look, nothing is happening on that tonight, ok? We've only got one fish-frier in here and we have a massive political fish to fry, ok?

Oliver Reeder:
Don't, under any circumstances, mention the massive political fish when you're talking to them!

Malcolm Tucker:
Where's Robyn? Robyn, come here! Quick! I'm bringing Jamie over to fire-fight this Watford story, so you'll be working with Jamie for the rest of the night, you take orders from Jamie. I want you to bury this Watford arsey tonight, because tomorrow morning - from broadsheets to wank rags - I want pages one, two and three to be a profile of Tom looking like a f***ing political colossus, you know - Tom meeting the Pope, Tom in a NHS hospital chatting to little baldie kiddies. I want pages four and five to be a timeline of the last years of British politics with ME at the center, looking f***ing indispensable and f***ing benign, and I want page six to be f***ing Israel or some bullshit, not a f***ing DoSAC deepshit legacy-distracting COCKUP!

Robyn Murdoch:
It's just Jamie, I find him just a little bit frightening...

Malcolm Tucker:
Relax, he has never hit anyone! Or at least anyone he's hit has never had the bollocks to take it to a superior! It's a f***ing joke, it's a joke, ok? The man is a professional, you will be fine!

Glenn Cullen:
Actually, Malcolm, we still have no word on Dan Miller, he's gone dark, he's not answering his phone...

Malcolm Tucker:
Maybe he's in a hotel with his own huddle! Ring around, try and find him.

Glenn Cullen:
What, ring every hotel in London and ask if Dan Miller's booked in?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah! Although he could be using an assumed name...

Glenn Cullen:
So, you want me ring round every hotel in London and ask if anyone of any name has booked in?

Malcolm Tucker:
Keep you busy! You know, you have to keep the mind active at your age. [to Ollie] You! Walk my way. I need you to go over there for me. I need you at that hotel.

Oliver Reeder:
You wanna to have a loop.

Malcolm Tucker:
F*** you, Andy-Pandy, I AM the loop. I want you in there for reason that will not become cleat to you for about 200 years so just do it. Specifically, see if any of Dan Miller's army are mincing in fish nettings and high heels. And I want updates every five.

Oliver Reeder:
Ok.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oi, and listen, get onto your ex at the Mail, allright? Tell her no f***er is standing, it all evaporated like cat's piss on a hot tin roof. Ok, twat-weasel? You got that?

Oliver Reeder:
Yes, thank you. [walking away] Malcolm Tucker, an investor in people.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes, I heard that! F*** you!

Malcolm Tucker:
[answering his cellphone] Terri, I think you've dialled the wrong number, this is not the Samaritans.

Terri Coverley:
Yes, very very funny. Listen, I've got something for you, a bit of intelligence. Jamie has got Cliff Lawton as his stalking horse.

Malcolm Tucker:
Who told you it was Lawton? Martha Karney's gardner?

Terri Coverley:
Malcolm, it was Robyn told me. [Tucker hangs up] Malcolm? Are you there?

Jamie:
[cut to Jamie and Cliff] Nobody gives a sh*t if you got shuffted by Malcolm.

Cliff Lawton:
I will never ever forgive him for what he did to me.

Jamie:
Jesus, this isn't Eastenders! This is politics! We're all in the same playing pit, Cliff, there's no clean hands.

Cliff Lawton:
Alright.

Jamie:
[phone rings. Jamie answers] Yeah?

Malcolm Tucker:
Jamie... What's that sort of droning noise in the background there? What, kind of boring, kind of low, sort of droning, boring, kind of miserable, whining, kind of, sort of boring noise going on?

Jamie:
Yeah, well you've got it wrong, yeah?

Malcolm Tucker:
Cliff f***ing Lawton. Hey, nice. Was the Cillit Bang guy not availabe?

Jamie:
F*** you. [hangs up]

Cliff Lawton:
[reading from his speech] "... to put it simply, I'm back!"

Jamie:
Oh f*** off, Cliff!

Cliff Lawton:
Sorry?

Jamie:
F*** off! You're a busted flush! You're not gonna be any Prime Minister, you're not gonna be anything, so f*** off!

Cliff Lawton:
That's your thing, isn't it? Everything has to be in absolutes, everything has to be black and white. You know, "I love you -f*** off". There are lots of shades of grey, you know!

Jamie:
I know that, I'm looking at fifteen of them right now!

Adam Kenyon:
[talking about Tom Davies losing supporters after the antidepressants incident] Right, how many has he lost?

Angela Heaney:
At least half a dozen.

Adam Kenyon:
That's alright, though, isn't it? Still in the hundreds, way above the 44. What does Macaulay Culkin think gonna happen next?

Angela Heaney:
He doesn't know.

Adam Kenyon:
Offcourse he doesn't f***ing know! He's about as connected as a kibbutz. Right, come one then, chop chop.

Angela Heaney:
What am I doing?

Adam Kenyon:
I don't know! Just get on with it!

Oliver Reeder:
Ben. A quick thought.

Ben Swain:
Come on, then, enlighten us, grasshoper.

Oliver Reeder:
Tom's dying. He doesn't have to die. We can take his DNA and transfer it to a healthier host.

Ben Swain:
What are you talking about?

Oliver Reeder:
Science fiction analogy. What I'm saying is why don't we sound out a potential fallback?

Nick Hanway:
Who?

Oliver Reeder:
Claire Ballantine. She's highly regarded, she's clean...

Nick Hanway:
Yeah, yeah, I get it... To be honest, I was really hoping that was gonna be sh*t because I'm tired and I quite like to hit somebody.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] Yeah, yeah, for sure Ballantine's out.

Adam Kenyon:
Thanks. Thanks for that, Malcolm. I really appriciate it.

Malcolm Tucker:
You know what they're calling her already? Ugly Betty.

Adam Kenyon:
That's f***ing brilliant.

Malcolm Tucker:
So, that's big night for you, eh?

Adam Kenyon:
Well,yeah, you know...

Malcolm Tucker:
Listen, this Tom story, who's got it? How you're gonna run it?

Adam Kenyon:
You mean the ''vitamins''?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes, the ''vitamins'', ha ha.

Adam Kenyon:
Probably nothing, actually, to be honest.

Malcolm Tucker:
No, nothing, nothing at all?

Adam Kenyon:
If the guy's gonna be the next Prime Minister, I don't wanna piss him off with something that can't stand up.

Malcolm Tucker:
Good call. Listen, we should get you over here sometime, yeah?

Adam Kenyon:
I'd love that.

Malcolm Tucker:
And obviously if you do think about running with this pills story, I will personally f***ing eviscerate you, right?

Adam Kenyon:
Right...

Malcolm Tucker:
And I mean, I don't have your education, I dunno what it means, but I will start by ripping your cock off and I'll bask it from there, ok?

Adam Kenyon:
Good, thank you, again.

Malcolm Tucker:
Talk to you later.

Adam Kenyon:
Cheers, bye bye, now. [hangs up. To Angela] He's a nice guy.

Ben Swain:
So why have you got me? Why have you called me back in? Are we gonna do a post-Claire, preemptive-Dan Miller strike?

Malcolm Tucker:
We're thinking, Ben, about you.

Ben Swain:
About... As in, ME?

Malcolm Tucker:
People still want a Tom figure, but Tom is tainted, you know, but you, you're clean, you know. You are the exactable face of Tom. Tom is analog in a digital age. You are Digital Ben. You're DigiBen. I think, I really think you could get it. I really do. I really, genuinely do.

Ben Swain:
[shocked] Oh, shitcakes. So I could be like a younger, sort of hunger... hungrier, leaner version of Tom?

Malcolm Tucker:
Not leaner.

Ben Swain:
Allright, a younger, hungrier Tom.

Malcolm Tucker:
That's it! I mean, because there's an army of people out there who want Tom's ideas. You could bring those ideas, but you know, without the dribbling.

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ben] Stop f***ing blinking! Or I will take your optic nerve and strangle you with it!

Oliver Reeder:
[on the phone] Listen, Angela, how far have you got with the Ben Swain thing?

Angela Heaney:
Why?

Oliver Reeder:
Well, however far you've got with it, basically, that is too far.

Angela Heaney:
It's not happening.

Oliver Reeder:
I'm reverse-floating it now. I'm sucking it back in the pipe.

Adam Kenyon:
[Adam joins in the conversation on his phone] Hello.

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, Adam, hi. Listen, I'm really sorry about this Ben Swain thing.

Adam Kenyon:
Yeah, you know, these thing happen, don't they?

Oliver Reeder:
They do happen.

Adam Kenyon:
Do you know what I'm gonna change page 4 and 5 to now? It's gonna say "Junior government gimp wrecks ex-girlfriend's career." How about that? Do you like that? Do you know what I'm gonna do, Oliver Reeder? I'm gonna spend the rest of my life dedicated to persecuting you in the most poisenous vendetta ever known in the British media, how about that? You have a great day, you have a smashing f***ing day.

[hangs up]

Jamie:
It's show time! Can Teflon Tucker save the Nutters or will Dan Miller rip his sculp off and use it as an oven glove?

Nick Hanway:
[Ben and Nick coming down the stairs] Guys! Is he here? Dan's not arrived yet, is he?

Malcolm Tucker:
Laurel and f***ing Hardy! Glad you could join us. Did you manage to get that piano up the stairs ok, yeah?

Jamie:
Oh, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for The Right Honourable Dan Miller, MP!

Dan Miller:
Oh, the reception committee. What a turn out. And they say no one is interested in politics. Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
Dan.

Dan Miller:
Nick.

Nick Hanway:
Dan.

Dan Miller:
Ben.

Ben Swain:
Dan.

Dan Miller:
Jamie.

Jamie:
God, enough with the pleasensies here, let's just oil up and get f***ing, yeah?

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm looking forward to today.

Dan Miller:
Today should be very interesting.

Malcolm Tucker:
I just wonder what are you actually gonna be saying on Today.

Dan Miller:
On the Today program? Well I'll be saying that I'll be fully endorsing Tom. Tom's my guy and he always has been.

Nick Hanway:
Really? Is that it? No buts, no elephant traps?

Dan Miller:
No, no. Tom and I came to an arrangement about an hour or so ago.

Malcolm Tucker:
Well, my work here is done.

Nick Hanway:
Why wasn't I told?

Jamie:
[Jamie does a flying movement with his hand, complete with whistling. Nick looks at him in puzzlement] It's the sound of you flying out of the loop head first into a huge mound of shite.

Nick Hanway:
So this whole evening has just been a waste of time. [Jamie does the flying thing again] Yeah, yeah, I got it, got it.

Dan Miller:
Yes, yes, that's pretty much it. That's why I went home, had a good night's sleep. Oh, by the way, Malcolm, Tom said to liaise with you on the press and...

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes, yes, offfcourse, yeah... [Tucker recieves a message on his beeper] Oh, God. Oh, I've been summoned to the breakfast meeting, to talk to Tom about this morning, some details about Claire Ballentine maybe, Geoff Holhurst, young Benjamin here.

Nick Hanway:
F*** you very much, you unscrupulous bastard.

Terri Coverley:
[on the phone] Hi, Jamie, what can I do for you?

Jamie:
I need you back here now.

Terri Coverley:
Oh...

Jamie:
Well I'm asking nicely, but if necessary I could come and kidnap you. I do keep a balaclava and gaffer tape in my car. No I actually do, do you hear me, Terri?

Malcolm Tucker:
So how's the rebrand going?

Nick Hanway:
Ok. We've booked him for a photo op on Tuesday, he's taking the family to a harvester.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, Jesus Christ. Really? "Have you been to a harvester before, Prime Minister?" "No, in fact I've never been actually out of the f***ing house with my family before".

Nick Hanway:
Anyway, look, do you know the name of the guy who's booked to go on Today in the morning?

Malcolm Tucker:
Sure, yeah... Do YOU know?

Nick Hanway:
Yeah, we've just found out. So, you know who it is.

Malcolm Tucker:
Offcourse I know! There's nothing that you know that I don't know. I'm Doctor f***ing Know.

Nick Hanway:
Who is it?

Malcolm Tucker:
Are you testing me now? 'Cause I could test you and we could have a big match of testostothone. I mean how do I know that you've got the f***ing name anyway?

Nick Hanway:
Because Hugo at Today told us.

Malcolm Tucker:
Right.

Nick Hanway:
So what name have you got?

Malcolm Tucker:
[long pause] Dan Miller!

Nick Hanway:
Oh, ok, so you do know...

Malcolm Tucker:
'course I f***ing do...

Nick Hanway:
Look, Tom's announcing his team in the morning and I got to to stop Dan Miller from announcing his team two hours before we announce ours, so if you wanna get on the bus...

Malcolm Tucker:
That is my mission. You, mister Nutty-Bar, have given me a task. Jesus Christ! Who the f*** does Tom think he is?

Nick Hanway:
The next Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Malcolm.

[Turning to leave]

Malcolm Tucker:
Nick. Tell mighty f***ing Tom that his transition will be as smooth as a Brazilian's fudd.

Jamie:
[Jamie comes into the office] Oh, Trinny and Susannah! I'm sorry to burst into your little f***ing boutique, but you've got a fight on your hands! That's all I'm saying, I'm backing a rival candidate, so f*** you and f*** you and your Nutter coronation 'cause it ain't happening!

Nick Hanway:
You're backing Dan Miller, are you?

Jamie:
No, I'm not backing Dan Miller, don't you f***ing ever ask me a question again!

Jamie:
[to Julius] Eat the cheese! Eat the f***ing cheese!

Jamie:
Have you been talking to Malcolm?

Robyn Murdoch:
No, should I have?

Jamie:
Who did you mention Cliff Lawton to, then?

Robyn Murdoch:
Only Terri.

Jamie:
For f***'s sake woman! What is your f***ing problem? No no no, don't answer that, we'll be here all f***ing night!

Jamie:
Malcolm, what's the f*** happening?

Malcolm Tucker:
Tom's in trouble.

Jamie:
Good.

Malcolm Tucker:
His numbers are falling.

Jamie:
Good.

Malcolm Tucker:
So I suggested that they take a look at another runner.

Jamie:
Claire Ballantine? Ok... I'm not hating that. That's not total sh*t.

Malcolm Tucker:
Are you in on this?

Jamie:
I'm not leaving it to you, hey? You couldn't organize a bum rape in the barracks.

Malcolm Tucker:
Au contraire.

Adam Kenyon:
[to Angela] You know how Geoff Holhurst photographs - he looks like his body's in the foreground and his head is really really faraway. It's f***ing weird.

Adam Kenyon:
Right, Geoff Holhurst?

Angela Heaney:
Yeah.

Adam Kenyon:
What, Ollie's our source on this? Ollie Reeder? Shallow Throat? Brilliant.

Angela Heaney:
I know you don't rate him...

Adam Kenyon:
You can say that again. Ollie Reeder is, to quote Bobby Kennedy, a complete f***ing spasmanoid. Plus, you know how Geoff Holhurst photographs - it's like his body's in the foreground and his head is really really far away, looks f***ing weird. Just something solid, allright? Otherwise our front page is going to be an interview with Janet Street Porter on why she hasn't been asked to be Prime Minister and a giant f***ing Sudoku.

Oliver Reeder:
[on the phone with Ben Swain] Mister Ben Swain, my main man, the Swain man! Yeah, no, I just told them I was popping out for a sandwitch, which I was, in fact I still am, listen. [chewing] Hear that? That is the sound of my teeth. Already? You're in a huddle with Tom NOW? Offcourse I want in! Well, yeah, absolutely. 'Cause you're my man, aren't you? You're the Ben. You're THE Ben. You know, you're Ben Nevis, Bently Hill. You know, I was thinking, it's just like Election night. We know that we won, already.

Glenn Cullen:
[on the phone with Nick] Nick! Mister Hanway! Good afternoon! Well, I'm fine, thank you. Everything here is a little bit odd, you know. A little bit 'Bob Todd'. Oh, the Hughster! No, he's always been a very big admirer of Tom, so I don't see why he wouldn't back Tom.

Oliver Reeder:
[on the phone] Angela.

Angela Heaney:
Ollie! How are you?

Oliver Reeder:
I'm Tickety Fockety Boo, thank you very much!

Angela Heaney:
Sorry?

Oliver Reeder:
Tickety Fockety Boo. Just something Ben said.

Angela Heaney:
You and Ben Swain big buds, then?

Oliver Reeder:
Well, you know... Could you hang on just a second? [goes to the lavatory] Things are just a little bit fluid here, and Glenn's not really a big Ben fan. Ben Swain, obviously, not the clock. Well, it's not the clock, it's the bell that's called Big Ben.

Angela Heaney:
So, go on, tell me, who else is running?

Oliver Reeder:
Well, no one. No one's gonna stand against Tom, surely he's going to be unnopposed. They'll be re-branding him as we speak, I would imagine. New hair, Ted Baker teeth, all the modern trappings of your political leader...

Angela Heaney:
Ollie! Are you pissing?

Oliver Reeder:
Ah, no, that's the flush of the automatic urinals in the gentelman's lavatory.

Angela Heaney:
I don't wanna talk to you while you're holding your penis.

Oliver Reeder:
Well, that's not what you used to say, Angela.

Angela Heaney:
Yes it is.

Oliver Reeder:
No well, actually that's precicely what you used to say.

Angela Heaney:
We're hearing that someone has booked in to do a Today programm in the morning to announce they're standing.

Oliver Reeder:
Oh?

Angela Heaney:
You and Big Ben out of the loop on that one?

Oliver Reeder:
Ah, no, no, no... That's... Not Geoff Holhurst?

Angela Heaney:
Geoff?

Ben Swain:
Right, Glenn, I'm gonna leave you to your switchboard duties.

Glenn Cullen:
Don't worry about us.

Ben Swain:
Back where the action is. Don't wanna miss a chance getting into Uncle Tom's Cabinet.

Oliver Reeder:
Ok...

Ben Swain:
Problems?

Oliver Reeder:
It's hammer-time. There's been a wild cat walkout at Watford Immigration Center. Whoever's leeking has told the press we weren't prepared to spend money on the repairs of the computer system. The Mail has told them that this department refuses point-blank to do or say anything about it, so the night shift walked out.

Glenn Cullen:
Robyn! What the f*** do you think you're doing?

Robyn Murdoch:
I cold-cocked! You said to! I said nothing was happening, I said nothing was going on here!

Glenn Cullen:
For f***'s sake, where did you learn that? The Civil Servant's school of telling the f***ing truth?

Robyn Murdoch:
You said 'cold c*cks'!

Ben Swain:
Ollie, I want you to deal with that. I'm gonna get back to the huddle. You get onto the press, tell them I'm all over it, I'm gonna instigate this spectrum-wide sweep of every espect of the... the thing, that I'm not being distracted by leadepship debates.

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, no problem, Ben. I'll see you at the hotel.

Ben Swain:
Ahh... Yeah, sure, but get this done, we'll see.

Oliver Reeder:
Bring me back a tiny wee Fanta from the MiniBar.

Glenn Cullen:
...and then Liam said that someone suggested that Tom should go on Strictly Come Dancing.

Oliver Reeder:
[smirks] He can barely even walk properly!

Adam Kenyon:
Alright, latest.

Angela Heaney:
Ollie says no one's standing in Tom's way, definite.

Adam Kenyon:
Oh, Ollie says, does he?

Angela Heaney:
He's at the Nutter summit now, he's our best source!

Adam Kenyon:
What for, raw sewage? Right, start a Tom story, but just as the spine, don't elaborate, just keep your options open, allright?

Angela Heaney:
Ok.

Adam Kenyon:
Just for now. [to another journalist] Get rid of this Dan Miller horseshit and get going on the Tom! Ok, come on, people, let's go! Come on!

Jamie:
[on the phone] No, no, he is a nice guy, it's just that apparently every eighteen months, two years he burns out. Takes a truck booth full of Prozac to get him righted.

Robyn Murdoch:
I'm getting a lot of calls.

Glenn Cullen:
Well, you're Communications, Robyn, that does tend to happen.

Robyn Murdoch:
Don't do jokes, Glenn, you're not a funny man, you're not that type.

Oliver Reeder:
[on the phone, after the antidepressants thing breaks] Hello.

Malcolm Tucker:
Right, what's the plan?

Oliver Reeder:
They don't have a plan.

Malcolm Tucker:
Perhaps you should give them one.

Oliver Reeder:
Oh, yes, fantastic, actually, Malcolm, because I have a very suitable one attached to the underside of my scrotum, so why don't we...

Malcolm Tucker:
Shut it, you're using up all the minutes on my talk-to-your-head-cancer tariff. Listen, get hold of Nick. Ask him if he's thought of sounding out another body. Suggest Claire Ballantine. She's highly regarded, she's clean, and she could, theoretically, occupy the same space as Tom. Call me in three.

Adam Kenyon:
So it's Ballentine. Well, it's a sideways move but it kind of makes sence. Should we run with it?

Angela Heaney:
Well, it's definitely happening, she's on her way in.

Adam Kenyon:
Is it gonna stand up?

Angela Heaney:
I think it'll stand up.

Adam Kenyon:
You think?

Angela Heaney:
Probably.

Adam Kenyon:
If you were me?

Angela Heaney:
I'd have a sex change?

Adam Kenyon:
Very f***ing funny. Right, f*** it, let's do it, let's run with it. Let's go, Ballantine story, let's go. Better run with something, otherwise we're gonna have to re-print Hitler's f***ing diaries again.

Jamie:
[on the phone to Terri] The results of this new immigration sh*t are hittings us and I need you in here now to eat that sh*t!

Oliver Reeder:
Nick's ready to dump Tom if Ballantine's up for it.

Malcolm Tucker:
[gravely] You've made me very very happy.

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, you look it.

Robyn Murdoch:
The Mail's got hold of a story about Ben being racist to a cleaner and saying racist things!

Terri Coverley:
Yeah, and they're gonna run with a headline "Uncle Tom's Cabinet", which is gonna be a really big problem for us, actually, because it's a very very good headline!

Ben Swain:
I'm not a racist! I'm so not a racist! One of my best friends is an Asian! No, I know that sounds...

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Jamie] You! That's it! I'm not standing for that! It's over! You're f***ing a dead man walking!

Jamie:
You think I leaked this?

Malcolm Tucker:
What do you think I am, seven years old?

Jamie:
Kiss my bollocks, this has got nothing to do with me! [to Ollie] It was you!

Oliver Reeder:
No, it wasn't f***ing me! Why would it be me? I thought we'd be working together in the new administration!

Glenn Cullen:
The new administration! Listen to the First Lady!

Oliver Reeder:
Shut up, Glenn. Shut up.

Jamie:
I've got it! [about Robyn] It was f***ing Johnny Mitchel here, it was her!

Robyn Murdoch:
I've leaked nothing!

Jamie:
What are you talking about?

Robyn Murdoch:
Other than the incidental leak, obviously.

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Jamie] I know it was you. You're a pint pot Judas.

Jamie:
It wasn't me!

Malcolm Tucker:
A pint pot Judas!

Jamie:
I'm five foot ten!

Malcolm Tucker:
Well, you don't feel that.

Glenn Cullen:
Malcolm. It wasn't him. It was me.

Jamie:
Oh, f*** off.

Oliver Reeder:
No way. No way.

Glenn Cullen:
I've been leaking for 27 years, I know how it's done. I leaked!

Oliver Reeder:
You don't leak! Well, not from the mouth, anyway.

Malcolm Tucker:
Just f***ing shut up. At least this is Hugh's Glenn. All you are, mate, is f***ing Ben's Glenn.

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey, it's Nutter Nick!

Malcolm Tucker:
You've got that bullshit Watford story covered, yeah?

Jamie:
Yeah.

Malcolm Tucker:
You and I will have a little discussion later!

Jamie:
I think Watford will get bumped by the fact that we're about to hand the nuclear codes to a guy who, every now and then, loses it so bad he needs SatNav to find his own nipples.

Malcolm Tucker:
What are you talking about?

Jamie:
I just thought it was fair to let everyone know about the Tom rumors, you know. How the guy who's about to become Prime Minister chuggs antidepressant like they're f***ing Smints. How the black dog humps his leg and shits in his duvet every four months! I think that they'll bump the Watford walkout.

Malcolm Tucker:
You gone f***ing psycho, son. F***ing psycho. Twat!

Malcolm Tucker:
[cut to Number 10, Nick and Malcolm are both on the phone] The leader of the Nutters is a nutter! Jesus , my niece is funnier than that, she just makes jokes about poo! No, I don't think that they will run with it because it's liveless. It's just as liveless as the Hugh Edwards rumor. Look, it's not my jurisdiction anyway, Nick Hanway looks after Tom, not me. Thanks, bye!

Nick Hanway:
Oh you're not dealing with this then?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes I am dealing with it, but oficially you're dealing with it, because I don't wanna step on any toes.

Nick Hanway:
Everyone gets down now and again, don't they? Loads of people take antidepressants, millions.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, your potential Prime Minister, for one.

Nick Hanway:
Oh, "your" potential Prime Minister, not "ours".

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh look, don't start with the f***ing semantics sh*t again. You know what I call "semantics"? Wank!

Nick Hanway:
So, what do you say, we bury it?

Malcolm Tucker:
Are you asking me to manage this?

Nick Hanway:
Tom's not sure about you.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, Tom's enormously mental in the head, that's what we've just been discussing.

Adam Kenyon:
We better run with something, otherwise we'll have to reprint Hitler's f***ing diaries again.

Malcolm Tucker:
Nick, I've just had the Mail on the phone. They're running with the Tom story.

Nick Hanway:
That's not looking good.

Malcolm Tucker:
No, it's not good, I'm sorry, it's everywhere, spreading faster than a rent-boy's cheeks. We're gonna need a plan B here.

Nick Hanway:
What about... Geoff Holhurst?

Malcolm Tucker:
His head photographs quite badly, so...

Nick Hanway:
Ok... Do you think Ben could run?

Malcolm Tucker:
If you think... I mean, look, it's up to you, Nick. If you think... I can try him out, if you think he will...

Nick Hanway:
Yeah. Yeah.

Malcolm Tucker:
Let's get him in. Give him a wash and brush-out. We'll botox his eyes open! I'll get the press to stop calling him Blinky-Ben.

Nick Hanway:
Yes.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah?

Nick Hanway:
That's a matter of priority.

Jamie:
[to Robyn and Terri] Hey, Desperate Houswifes! You found out who's leaking yet?

Glenn Cullen:
I have! It's Julius! He's just told me.

Jamie:
Julius? Nicholson? That-baldie-p*ssy? I tell you, if you think he's leaking now, wait till you see him when I'm finished with him! He'll look like f***ing Mel Gibson's Jesus!

Ben Swain:
Have you tracked Dan Miller?

Malcolm Tucker:
No, he's nowhere, man, he's f***ing nowhere. The good news, however, is that the Tom wobble is over. That's great, isn't it?

Ben Swain:
Yeah! So, he's not wobbling, he's... What does it mean?

Malcolm Tucker:
Well it means that all the rats are now returning to a very buoyant ship and a plain deck, so that's lovely, isn't it?

Ben Swain:
What does it mean for me?

Malcolm Tucker:
I guess that means that you are standing in a chamber in the House of Commons with your big flaccid dick hanging out, with a "vote for me" sticking on the end.

Ben Swain:
But you said I had a chance! Half an hour ago you said I was in with a shot!

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't f***ing get... Look, half an hour ago you were in with a shot! This is half an hour hence! We've f***ing time-travelled, yes? We're in a weird and wonderful world where everything is different! Maybe outside the polar ice caps have melted! Maybe there's f***ing robots knocking about and Davina Maccoll is the new Pope! Maybe you can download rice! I want you, right now, to think about your own future, ok? Think about what you are doing, get yourself back on the train to f***ing Thomasville pronto, yeah? "Half an hour"...

Glenn Cullen:
[to Terri] It's not the same. You're on the last chopper out of Saigon, I'm having it up the ass with Ho Chi Minh!

Malcolm Tucker:
Right, hi Geoff, don't stand. No no, I mean don't stand against Tom. Now you see what I did there? I was both being funny and also deadly seroius.

Geoff Holhurst:
Now where did you hear that, Malcolm?

Malcolm Tucker:
Never mind where I heard that. The thing is Geoff, you're gonna waste everybody's time...

Geoff Holhurst:
I'm not standing, Malcolm, I'm just trying to start a debate. You know, a policy debate, future direction of the party.

Malcolm Tucker:
...because, first, you've got no credentials. You're so back-bench, you've actually f***ing fallen off. You're out by the f***ing bins where I put you. Secondly, I'm gonna tell the Mirror about all the drinking, and thirdly, I'm gonna tell the Mail about the affair and fourthly, you've got tiny head.

Geoff Holhurst:
No I haven't!

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes you have, it's out of proportions, everybody mentions that! Now, you see, you're shaking it and I can hardly see it move! Are you shaking it now? I can't tell!

Geoff Holhurst:
I'm not standing, ok! My head is the right size!

Malcolm Tucker:
It's very petite. So you're not standing? You will not stand against Tom?

Geoff Holhurst:
I said, I've bloody said!

Malcolm Tucker:
OK. Thank you Geoff, let's have lunch sometime, yeah? Have a t?te-?-tiny-t?te.

Geoff Holhurst:
Jesus!

Angela Heaney:
They ditched Ballantine.

Adam Kenyon:
What? Already?

Angela Heaney:
Yeah.

Adam Kenyon:
What the f*** is wrong with this people? I mean, what is this? Potential leader speed-dating? Right, who is standing?

Angela Heaney:
I dunno.

Adam Kenyon:
[to a reporter working on a Ballantine article] Ditch that, for a start! Get rid of her! I can't stand her f***ing face.

Glenn Cullen:
I'm supposed to be keeping Hugh abreast of everything but I'm feeling about as up to date as a Gregorian calendar, I'm completely out of the loop.

Julius Nicholson:
Join the club. I'm having a bit of a Robinson Crusoe moment myself, but, between you and me, I'm beginning to piss myself with excitement because I've started to leak the immigration figures to the press.

Glenn Cullen:
You're leaking? That is funny. Julius Nicholson, the wild one.

Julius Nicholson:
I'm the new Che Guevara. I just need a new moustache and some laser correction eye treatment.

Terri Coverley:
Could we have this conversation near some coffee, d'you think?

Jamie:
No.

Terri Coverley:
Thought not.

Jamie:
No, what we're having here is a secret conversation and I'm hoping that this time you can keep the f***ing secret, because normally you're about as secure as a hymen in a south London comprehensive.

Terri Coverley:
Yep, well done. That's offensive on a number of levels in a very concise way.

Jamie:
The leaks are coming from in here.

Terri Coverley:
What, in the gents?

Jamie:
No, the leaks are coming from Richmond f***ing Terrace, right? Now, I want you to find out who the mole is so we can play that game when the mole pops up and I smash it over the head with a f***ing hammer!

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ollie] If you don't go and get me some cheese, I'm gonna rip your head off, and give you spinedectomy.

Jamie:
Nicholoson! The immigration sh*t, it was you, wasn't it? You mimsy bastard quisling leak f***!

Julius Nicholson:
Sorry?

Jamie:
Yeah, you will be sorry, you inflatable cock!

Jamie:
You, Julius Nicholson, being of a sound mind, with a body that looks like a giant sex toy, did knowingly do us up the shithole by passing confidential information to the enemy! And I am gonna have your guts as a skipping rope, then rip yor lungs out, sun-dry them and turn them into a little f***ing waist-coat!

Jamie:
Oh, Trinny and Susanna! I'm sorry to burst into your little f***ing boutique, but you've got a fight on your hands! That's all I'm saying, I'm backing a rival candidate, so f*** you and f*** you and your Nutter coronation 'cause it ain't happening!

Nick Hanway:
You're backing Dan Miller, are you?

Jamie:
No, I'm not backing Dan Miller, don't you f***ing ever ask me a question again!

Malcolm Tucker:
Fatty?

Jamie:
Oh, aye, Fatty, wee Spiderman in his f***ing pijamas, what a f***ing idea. From now on it's a proper fight! It's a pomp-fight, Motherwell rules! And Tom is gonna get a pint glass in his f***ing eye and a pool cue up his arse and another pool cue in his other f***ing eye!

Malcolm Tucker:
Geoff Holhurst!

Jamie:
What, Mister Baby New Potato-Head? F*** off.

Ben Swain:
[Tom's huddle, after the pills story spreads around, lavatory] It's all gone a bit brawww out there, isn't it?

Nick Hanway:
There's always wobbles, there were last time.

Ben Swain:
Fat Pat was just on the phone to Tom, asking him if he wants to withdraw.

Nick Hanway:
Are you pissing about?

Ben Swain:
No, well, not anymore... So, what now?

Nick Hanway:
F***!

Ben Swain:
She wasn't saying he should withdraw, she was just saying he should... consider it.

Nick Hanway:
Have you gone mad in your blinky head? That's senior Communications telling our boss "You know, we'll just leave that shotgun lying there, in case you wanna use it, mister Cobain".

Malcolm Tucker:
He's on the radar! Dan Miller's f***ing broken cover! He's on his way here, he's gonna be here in fifteen to see Nick. [to Ollie] I want Jamie, I want Ben and [to Glenn] I want you there. Get down there, come on! I need you there! I need a MAN! And you're a man! Come on!

Malcolm Tucker:
Nick, good news! I've killed the antidepressants story! I've been onto the Mail, they're not gonna run it. The wobble is over. Tom is now cycling with stabilizers.

Nick Hanway:
That's great news. How did you do it?

Malcolm Tucker:
Ah, I'd be telling you... But you'll let him know, yeah? You will tell the new Prime Minister who stopped this, yeah? 'Cause if you were to take all the credit well I may have to let him know that you were responcible for starting this Ben-running thing.

Nick Hanway:
Ben was just an option.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, well just you make sure I'm inside the tent, pissing out. In fact, forget the f***ing tent, I want a caravan of my own, adjoining Tom's, with a big pissing veranda.

Malcolm Tucker:
What's that, cricket, that's the English equivalent of sport isn't it? No actual phisical contact, just glaring.

Jamie:
Ok, the line is "Wildcat walkout, we'll be talking to the unions, it's too early to comment". Off the record, union neandarthals with brains the size of children's bogies couldn't take the heat of Hugh Abbot's ring-stinging sh*t hot public sector reforms, but he is flying back like Harrison Ford with a big whip in one hand and a skinny latte in the other and he is gonna whip six shades of sh*t out of them and save the world, ok?

Robyn Murdoch:
I think I've got that..."... six shades of sh*t..."

Jamie:
So, what are you doing?

Robyn Murdoch:
I'm just making a note of some of the things you said...

Jamie:
No, don't take notes, get on the f***ing phone, start pumping the line, ok?

Robyn Murdoch:
Right.

Jamie:
Oh, hey, and don't look so scared, hey? It's gonna to be allright, I'm being polite, aren't I?

Robyn Murdoch:
Yeah, well, sort of.

Jamie:
Exactly, so get on it, you f***ing hippie, or I will personally have you as a light supper.

Malcolm Tucker:
[coming into an office where Julius and Glenn are listening to a radio and eating] Oh God, it's like a prostate consultant's waiting room in here.

Malcolm Tucker:
[comes into a room where Glenn, Julius and Ollie are eating take-away] What is this, feeding time? [to Ollie] You on solids? I thought you were still on the tit.

Jamie:
Oh f*** off Cliff.

Cliff Lawton:
Sorry?

Jamie:
F*** off. You're a busted flush, you're not gonna be Prime Minister. You're not gonna be anything so f*** off.

Cliff Lawton:
This is your thing isn't it, everything has to be in absolutes, everything has to be in black and white you know, I love you - F*** off. There are lots of shades of grey you know!

Jamie:
I know I'm looking at 15 of them right now.

Malcolm Tucker:
The leader of the nutters is a nutter, Jesus, my niece is funnier than that and she makes jokes about poo.

Jamie:
Are you a horse?

Cliff Lawton:
Sorry?

Jamie:
Are you a f***ing horse?

Cliff Lawton:
No.

Jamie:
You've got a bit of a horsey face, and a f***ing horsey wife. Are you a horse?

Cliff Lawton:
No. I can categorically state...

Jamie:
EXACTLY!

Cliff Lawton:
...that I'm not a horse!

Jamie:
Exactly! You're no horse. And you are not a stocking horse. And we are going to ram you up Tom's arse SO hard, he has to sh*t out his lying mouth.

Cliff Lawton:
Very unpleasant image. But, quite motivating.

Malcolm Tucker:
Has anybody seen Jamie?

Glenn Cullen:
Why? Have you lost him?

Oliver Reeder:
Oh, don't tell me he's gone feral, because he was f***ing terrifying when you had him on the leash!

Malcolm Tucker:
I'll get the Press to stop calling him Blinky-Ben.

Nick Hanway:
Yeah. As a matter of priority.

Jamie:
Oh, Trinny and Susannah! I'm sorry to burst into your little f***ing boutique, but you've got a fight on your hands! That's all I'm saying, I'm backing a rival candidate, so

[to Tucker]

Jamie:
F*** you and...

[to Nick]

Jamie:
...f*** you and your Nutter coronation 'cause it ain't happening!

Nick Hanway:
You're backing Dan Miller, are you?

Jamie:
No, I'm not backing Dan Miller, don't you never f***ing ask me a question again!

Malcolm Tucker:
Hey, it's nice Nutter Nick!

Angela Heaney:
Ollie! Are you pissing?

Oliver Reeder:
Ah, no, that's the flush of the automatic urinals in the gentelman's lavatory.

Angela Heaney:
I don't wanna talk to you while you're holding your penis!

Oliver Reeder:
Well, that's not what you used to say...

Angela Heaney:
Yes it is.

Oliver Reeder:
No, well, that's precisely what you used to say.

Jamie:
[to Julius] Eat the f***ing cheese! Eat the cheese, Nicholson!

Robyn Murdoch:
It's just Jamie, I find him just a little bit frightening...

Malcolm Tucker:
Relax, he has never hit anyone! Or at least anyone he hit has never had the balls to take it to a superior! It's a f***ing joke, it's a joke, ok? The man is a professional, you will be fine!

Glenn Cullen:
Actually, Malcolm, we still have no word on Dan Miller, he's gone dark, he's not answering his phone...

Malcolm Tucker:
Maybe he's in a hotel with his own huddle! Ring around, try and find him.

Glenn Cullen:
What, ring every hotel in London and ask if Dan Miller's booked in?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah! Although he could be using an assumed name...

Glenn Cullen:
So, you want me to ring round every hotel in London and ask if anyone of any name has booked in?

Malcolm Tucker:
Keep you busy! You know, you have to keep the mind active at your age.

Nick Hanway:
Tom's not sure about you...

Malcolm Tucker:
Tom is enormously mental in the head, that's what we've just been discussing.

Jamie:
Malcolm, what's the f*** happening?

Malcolm Tucker:
Tom's in trouble.

Jamie:
Good.

Malcolm Tucker:
His numbers are falling.

Jamie:
Good.

Malcolm Tucker:
So I suggested that they take a look at another runner.

Jamie:
Claire Ballantine? Ok... I'm not hating that... That's not total sh*t.

Malcolm Tucker:
Are you in on this?

Jamie:
I'm not leaving it to you, you couldn't organize a bum rape in the barracs.

Malcolm Tucker:
Au contraire.

Adam Kenyon:
[to Angela] You know how Geoff Holhurst photographs - it's like his body's in the foreground and his head is really really far away.

Nick Hanway:
Tom's announcing his team in the morning and I've got to to stop Dan Miller from announcing his team two hours before we announce ours, so if you wanna get on the bus...

Malcolm Tucker:
That is my mission. You, mister Nutty-Bar, have given me a task. Jesus Christ! Who the f*** does Tom think he is?

Nick Hanway:
The next Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker:
Tomorrow - from broadsheets to wank rags - I want pages one, two and three to be a profile of Tom looking like a f***ing political colossus, you know - Tom meeting the Pope, Tom in a NHS hospital chatting to little, baldie kiddies. I want pages four and five to be a timeline of British politics with ME at the center, looking f***ing indispensable and f***ing benign, and I want page six to be f***ing Israel or some bullshit, not a f***ing DoSAC deepshit legacy-distracting COCKUP!

Adam Kenyon:
We better run with something, otherwise we'll have to reprint Hitler's f***ing diaries. Again.

Malcolm Tucker:
Nick, I've just had the Mail on the phone. They're running with the Tom story.

Nick Hanway:
This is not good...

Malcolm Tucker:
No, it's not good, I'm sorry, it's everywhere, spreading faster than a rent-boy's cheeks. We're gonna need a Plan B here.

Nick Hanway:
What about... Geoff Holhurst?

Malcolm Tucker:
His head photographs quite badly, so...

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ollie] If you don't go get me some cheese, I'll rip your head off, and give you a spinedectomy.

Ben Swain:
Where does it leave me?

Malcolm Tucker:
I guess it leaves you standing in a chamber in the House of Commons with your big flaccid dick hanging out, with a "vote for me" sticking on the end.

Glenn Cullen:
I've been leaking for 27 years, I know how it's done. I leaked!

Oliver Reeder:
You don't leak! Well, not from the mouth, anyway.

Malcolm Tucker:
Just f***ing shut up. At least this is Hugh's Glenn. All you are, mate, is f***ing Ben's Glenn.

Oliver Reeder:
"Ben's Glenn"? That's all I am, I'm Ben's Glenn.

Ben Swain:
What's wrong with that? It's not like it's a disease!

Oliver Reeder:
It's not the "Ben" bit, it's the "Glenn" bit.

Malcolm Tucker:
Right, hi Geoff, don't stand.

[Holhurst sits back down]

Malcolm Tucker:
No no, I mean don't stand against Tom. Now you see how I did that? I was both being funny and also deadly serious.

Geoff Holhurst:
Now where did you hear that, Malcolm?

Malcolm Tucker:
Never mind where I heard that. The thing is Geoff, you're gonna waist everybody's time...

Geoff Holhurst:
I'm not standing, Malcolm, I'm just trying to start a debate. You know, a policy debate, future direction of the party.

Malcolm Tucker:
...because, first, you've got no credentials. You're so back-bench, you've actually f***ing fallen off. You're out there by the bins. Secondly, I'm gonna tell the Mirror about all the drinking, and thirdly, I'm gonna tell the Mail about the affair and fourthly, you've got tiny head.

Geoff Holhurst:
No I haven't!

Malcolm Tucker:
Yes you have, it's out of proportions, everybody mentions that! Now, you see, you're shaking it and I can hardly see it move! Are you shaking it now? I can't tell!

Geoff Holhurst:
I'm not standing, ok! My head is the right size!

Malcolm Tucker:
It's very petite. So you're not standing? You will not stand against Tom?

Geoff Holhurst:
I've said, I've bloody said.

Malcolm Tucker:
OK. Thank you Geoff. Let's have lunch sometime, yeah? Have a tete-a-tiny-tete.

Geoff Holhurst:
Jesus!

Jamie:
[to Terri and Robyn] Hey, Desperate Housewives! You found out who's leaking yet?

Glenn Cullen:
I have! It's Julius! He's just told me.

Jamie:
Julius? Nicholson? That-baldie-p*ssy? If you think he's leaking now, wait till you see when I'm finished with him! He'll look like f***ing Mel Gibson's Jesus! F***!

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone] Jamie... What's that sort of droning noise in the background there? What, kind of boring, kind of low, sort of droning, boring, kind of miserable, whining, kind of, sort of boring noise going on?

Jamie:
Yeah, well you've got it wrong!

Malcolm Tucker:
Cliff f***ing Lawton. Hey, nice. Was the Cillit Bang guy not available?

Jamie:
F*** you.

Robyn Murdoch:
You said "cold c*cks"!

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Nick] You know what I call "semantics"? Wank!

Jamie:
You, Julius Nicholson, being of a sound mind, with a body that looks like a giant sex toy, did knowingly do us up the shithole by passing confidential information to the enemy! And I am gonna have your guts as a skipping rope, and your lungs sun-dried and turned into your little f***ing waistcoat!

Jamie:
[to Nick] It's the sound of you flying out of the loop head first into a huge mount of shite.

Jamie:
Enough with the pleasantries, let's just oil up and get f***ing, yeah?

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ben Swain after the Newsnight incident] You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra.

Malcolm Tucker:
[preparing Ben for going on TV again] Get him properly f***ing screen-tested! I'm sorry, mate, but you need a lot of powder. I've never seen anyone look so f***ing ugly with just one head!

Ben Swain:
No, I've lost my... erm... safety...

Malcolm Tucker:
Who was it that did your media training? Myra Hindley? It's terrible! All these hands all over the place! You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra! It was like watching John Leslie at work!

Ben Swain:
Yes, I know all that. It just, kinda, fell away. It's like one of those dreams when you're wandering around Covent Garden with just a west and everyone's staring at you.

Jamie:
It was much worse than that. I mean, how many people see you at Covent Garden? A few thousands? Your meltdown was witnessed by 1.2 million people! That's more people than saw Al Jolson in his f***ing career! And that's Al f***ing Jolson!

Malcolm Tucker:
He loves Al Jolson.

Jamie:
The Guvnor!

Oliver Reeder:
Maaameee!

Jamie:
You take the piss out of Al Jolson again and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano-sheath and push it up your cock! Then I'll put some speakers up your arse and put it on shuffle with my f***ing fist. And every time I hear something that I don't like, which will be every time that something comes on, I will skip to the next track by crushing your balls!

Peter Mannion:
Have I shaved properly? It's just that we're having the bathroom done and I was in the kitchen this morning, using the kettle as a mirror.

Phil Smith:
No, very smooth. Was it a chrome kettle, then?

Peter Mannion:
You've been watching CSI again, haven't you?

Oliver Reeder:
I'm extremely impressed. I'm highly impressed that you're going to see the leader of your party.

Emma Messinger:
You should be impressed.

Oliver Reeder:
Although, ultimately, the leader of your party is just a man, isn't he really? He's just a guy.

Emma Messinger:
That's a good point, actually, because yours, on the other hand...

Oliver Reeder:
No, no, mine is... the leader of the country, also. What I'm just saying if we were playing Top Trumps, which we kind of are...

Emma Messinger:
We absolutely are!

Oliver Reeder:
I win!

Oliver Reeder:
So, Ben, on Newsnight.

Terri Coverley:
Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah. Oh, thank God you didn't know, either. I thought it was just me.

Terri Coverley:
No, I did know about that, actually.

Oliver Reeder:
Why did you say it like that, then: "Ben Swain going on Newsnight?"

Terri Coverley:
You're just out of the loop. I'm very well wired into the Tomists.

Oliver Reeder:
[laughs] Nobody calls them Tomists, they're Nutters, Terri, nobody calls them Tomists.

Terri Coverley:
I don't like that word, my sister works in mental health!

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, well.

Oliver Reeder:
[about Ben's book 'It's The Everything, Stupid: How To Get Ahead In Modern Politics'] This is looking good. When's it coming out?

Ben Swain:
End of the week.

Terri Coverley:
Great title!

Ben Swain:
Thank you.

Oliver Reeder:
And have you written it yourself or was it ghosted by...?

Ben Swain:
By Victoria Beckham? No, everything in there is entirely written by me, I think you will find.

Oliver Reeder:
There you go, you have hidden talents.

Peter Mannion:
I'm modern! I say 'black' instead of 'colored', I think women are a good thing, I have no problem with gays, most of them are very well turned out, especially the men. Why is it this last year I'm being made to feel as if I'm always two steps behind, like I can't program a video or convert everything back to old money? Because that's not me!

Phil Smith:
You still got a video?

Phil Smith:
[Emma comes back from the meeting with her party leader] Had fun there?

Emma Messinger:
Yeah, useful.

Phil Smith:
Playing with the big boys?

Emma Messinger:
Yeah, and now I'm back with the little boys, ah?

Phil Smith:
No.

Stewart Pearson:
[Stewart's making a reluctant Peter try on a new suit, without a tie] Just wondering whether you're fully conversive with the new line, whether you're really up to speed.

Peter Mannion:
I don't know, am I? Because I get people stopping me on the streets and saying 'are you still for locking up yobbos?' and I say 'yeah, offcourse we are!', and then I think 'are we?', because maybe I missed a memo from you, maybe I should understand yobbos now, not even call them 'yobbos', call them 'young men with issues around stabbing'! [pause] No tie, you say.

Stewart Pearson:
No tie.

Peter Mannion:
Nice suit, actually.

Stewart Pearson:
So, what we're thinking... shirt outside the trowsers

Peter Mannion:
Outside? Not tuck my shirt in?

Stewart Pearson:
Yeah.

Peter Mannion:
I always tuck my shirt in, it's part of getting dressed. What, should I not do my flies up either? Let the old chap flop out, is that modern enough for you?

Stewart Pearson:
Just try it, Peter. Not the cock out, just the shirt thing.

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone to Jamie while watching Ben live on Newsnight] He's like a chicken, he's like an enormous chicken!

Malcolm Tucker:
What is going on with this coalface bullshit, Terri?

Terri Coverley:
What this? What this? I don't understand...

Malcolm Tucker:
The Opposition fat-fighting immigration.

Terri Coverley:
There was an official request this afternoon from Stewart Pearson, their PR guy. I saw no legitimate reason to stop it, so... And he was very nice.

Malcolm Tucker:
He was nice?

Terri Coverley:
Good manners cost nothing, Malcolm. Just because you two were raised by Scottish wolves!

Malcolm Tucker:
Jesus Christ! Is it this f***ing easy to get into your knickers? 'Cause if I was you, I would go down to the clap clinic and get them have a good look up you!

Terri Coverley:
Listen, I followed procedure!

Jamie:
What about the two ticks?

Terri Coverley:
I didn't have to do the two ticks! I put a memo through to Julius, he ok-d it and it is going ahead!

Emma Messinger:
[arguing about Emma stealing Ollie's coalface idea and their relationship] Christ, Ollie, if it'd been such a f***ing disaster, why didn't you break up with me sooner?

Oliver Reeder:
Well, if it'd been up to me, I would have broken up with you sooner!

Emma Messinger:
If it'd been up to you... This is Malcolm, isn't it? Malcolm has been pimping you out!

Oliver Reeder:
[to Phil] I will be so not sorry not ever to have to talk to you again, you massive floppy blond tit! I hope your blog gets dumped for libel and you get nobbed in prison by men!

Malcolm Tucker:
You and me, Ollie, hey? I just realised that we're on the same boat, yeah? I mean, obvioulsy, I'm up on the bridge with the binoculars and the Richard Gere gear on, you're down in the engine room trying not to get bum-raped by a bunch of big lads with shovels, but, essentially, it's the same boat!

Oliver Reeder:
Sorry, what boat is... are we discussing?

Malcolm Tucker:
The thing is, people like you and I, Ollie, we need time, right?

Oliver Reeder:
Right.

Malcolm Tucker:
We need time to ease the transition from one regime to the next. And I've been hearing from a very nasty, very baldie little bug that we might not be getting the time that we need to make the alliances that we need to ease the transition.

Oliver Reeder:
Ok, so...

Malcolm Tucker:
I want the Opposition to make an announcement for me.

Oliver Reeder:
The Opposition?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah. I want them to announce the hiving off of immigration to a non-political executive body.

Oliver Reeder:
That's... that's the PM's legacy!

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah.

Oliver Reeder:
But the Opposition... It's different party, Malcolm. I can't make them do things, even YOU can't make them do things.

Malcolm Tucker:
Where's all this education? Where does it normally go when it comes to this kind of moment?

Oliver Reeder:
I understand that it's [puts up one hand] this party and [puts up the other hand] this party and we're [indicates hands] this party and they're this party, and therefore how can I influence that?

Malcolm Tucker:
You take [puts up his hands the way Ollie did] this and this and you put it onto your bird's breasts, and you rub them and squeeze them very very gently, you get her into the sack, you bang her f***ing brains out, you make sure that she comes and you just give her the policy!

Oliver Reeder:
But I... I chucked her. In a kind of 'it's not you' it's me' sort of... but it IS you, you hideous, vacuous, slow b*tch from hell!

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm really not interested at all in your little tiff. Get round her, take your Barry White album and your lube and your f***ing policy folder!

Oliver Reeder:
Malcolm, this is really crossing the line!

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't start with the moral objections, you f***ing Blue Peter badge wearing ponce! Go and make a contribution to the f***ing Amnesty International! Go and buy a goat a whole village can f***, but you are doing this for me!

Oliver Reeder:
Malcolm! You're bullying me, and I dunno why you're bullying me...

Malcolm Tucker:
How dare you! How dare you! Don't you ever, EVER, call me a bully! I'm so much worse than that.

Malcolm Tucker:
Mannion is not announcing early enough!

Oliver Reeder:
Malcolm, they're the Opposotion! They've got they're own mind, they can make it up! I can't control them, you can't control them! You don't even answer to me, like a one-man guerilla army operating against your own f***ing government!

Malcolm Tucker:
This is not the day for you to be brave with me, boy, let me tell you that. You're no f***ing Andy McNab.

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ben] I want you to announce a policy for me. And I want you take the full credit and be the face of it.

Ben Swain:
This is an overture, then, Malcolm. You coming round to the Nutter way of thinking? You bailing out on the PM?

Malcolm Tucker:
No, no, offcourse not.

Ben Swain:
What's your policy? What's your idea?

Malcolm Tucker:
Taking immigration out of political control.

Oliver Reeder:
Hang on, you're giving it to him now, are you?

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm gonna bang you on Newsnight, right? And you are gonna fly this time, my friend. You are gonna light up the sky! Where's your phone? Give us your phone.

Ben Swain:
I'm not... Newsnight? How are we gonna pay for it? They'll ask me that, how're we gonna pay for this?

Malcolm Tucker:
Ollie, where's the money coming from?

Oliver Reeder:
We can just cancel something that's already on the slate, maybe?

Ben Swain:
Brilliant, I'll say that, that'll be great, thank you, Carole Vorderman.

Oliver Reeder:
Well, why don't we say that we're wrapping up the citizenship program with this. I mean, it won't end up, but then they'll find it very hard to prove because we never actually said how much citizenship costs in the first place.

Malcolm Tucker:
That'll do. Ok. This. Is. It. This is it!

Ben Swain:
No, hold on, I've got to have a think about it! No, don't wave my phone at me, that's not gonna help!

Oliver Reeder:
He's doing the blinky thing again.

Malcolm Tucker:
Right, if you're not gonna go on, I'm gonna get [points to Ollie] this giggling streak of piss to go on to Newsnight, I don't even f***ing care! Let it be his chinless, sulky little face that everyone sees for the whole of the next week!

Ben Swain:
Oh... F*** it, I'll do it!

Jamie:
PM's f***ing resigned! He was getting of a plane in Sunderland and he announced it! There's gonna be a full statement at five, but that's it. He's gonna act as care-taker for one month but he's f***ing gone! Goodbye and thanks for all the varicose veins!

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Jamie, while trying to get in touch with the PM after hearing about the resignation] What happens to me, right? What happens to me? He's gone, right? Does he lift the phone? Does he f***!

Glenn Cullen:
[on the phone to Hugh, after the PM's resignation] You know, as far as the click thing goes, you really click with Tom's wife and Fatty's, you know, not wife, whatever, so that particular glass ceiling is smashed!

Julius Nicholson:
[on the phone] Malcolm Tucker! To what do I owe the pleasure?

Malcolm Tucker:
This coalface bullshit is gonna make us look like a bunch of gurning wankers!

Julius Nicholson:
We will not look like gurning... people. They point out the problems, we solve it. It's a damn slight more subtle than raising it ourselves.

Malcolm Tucker:
You actually want the Opposition to do this? We are through the looking glass now, folks. F*** me! [to Ollie, Jamie and Ben] We're gonna get My Little Pony... erm... young Benjamin here to announce that he's going to the coalface, and we're gonna do this before the wankers do, ok?

Malcolm Tucker:
[coughing after smoking a cigar] Oh... That's like smoking dead skin, that is!

Jamie:
It's not a proper cigar! Proper cigars are those big Cuban whoppers, that is just a jumped up fag.

Malcolm Tucker:
[Ollie comes over] Talking of which.

[to Ollie]

Malcolm Tucker:
Do you fancy a cigar? I promise I won't tell any of the other prefects.

Jamie:
Hand-rolled on a thigh of a Cuban virgin with big tits and four kids.

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah, thanks. Malcolm, I just wondered if we could have a quick word, actually. The Opposition have got the week at the coalface idea, they're gonna do it.

Jamie:
Who? When?

Oliver Reeder:
Peter Mannion, I don't know when.

Malcolm Tucker:
How the f*** did they get that? Your f***ing girlfriend! Jesus Christ!

Jamie:
You should have dumped that mad b*tch ages ago!

Oliver Reeder:
I would have done, I would have done, she IS mad, she's a mental woman but you two kept telling me to go out with her and stay going out with her just in case I found anything else!

Jamie:
And what did you find out? That you've been leaking intelligence to them? You're the f***ing shittest James Bond ever! You're David f***ing Niven!

Malcolm Tucker:
[to a couple of Ben's people] Off you two f***.

Malcolm Tucker:
[meeting with Nicholson. Malcolm passes Jamie a note] "Please could you take this note, ram it up his hairy inbox and pin it to his f***ing prostate."

Stewart Pearson:
So, what we're thinking... shirt outside the trousers.

Peter Mannion:
Outside? Not tuck my shirt in?

Stewart Pearson:
Yeah.

Peter Mannion:
I always tuck my shirt in, it's part of getting dressed. What, should I not do my flies up either? Let the old chap flop out, is that modern enough for you?

Stewart Pearson:
Just try it, Peter. Not the cock out, just the shirt thing.

Jamie:
[practising an interview with Ben] Let's see you do your stuff, Mister Television, ha? Immigration is in disarray, what are you going to do about it?

Ben Swain:
Well, first of all, I would have to take issue with your contention that immigration is in disarray...

Jamie:
Oh, answer the question, you fat f***! Panicked already. Shot yourself.

Jamie:
[to Ollie] So, the girlfriend, she doesn't mind the whole you being gay thing?

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ben] Jamie's gonna stay with you, ok? He'll be by your side until the interview is over, even if you take a dump.

Jamie:
Even if I take a dump, eh? And I sh*t alot... Smoking and a fast metabolism.

Ben Swain:
Well, fantastic, we'll spend the day defecating together. It's the glamor of this job that I so much enjoy.

Jamie:
[to Ben, after the disastrous Newsnight performance] You don't deserve to live!

Glenn Cullen:
[to Ollie, about Ben's performance on Newsnight] It was the worst thing I've ever seen. And I was in 'Nam.

Peter Mannion:
How is my blog? My own personal blog, personally written by me? [all reading the blog]

Phil Smith:
There we go. Yesterday you liked the leader's speach, it was bold, corageous and sent up the right signals. And you had fruit for lunch.

Peter Mannion:
Oh, I write very well. What's the feedback like? Let's see that.

Phil Smith:
Open this page here. Here we go.

Peter Mannion:
[reading] "I don't trust you, you Cypriot crook". Cypriot? This is the sh*t room! You've opened the sh*t room door. "How're the maintenance payment going on, you bastard?" Christ, that was 12 years ago!

Phil Smith:
I haven't seen that one...

Peter Mannion:
[reading] "Adulterous Nazi!"

Phil Smith:
Or that one.

Emma Messinger:
That's actually, I think, the same one.

Peter Mannion:
This is the trouble with the public, they're f***ing horrible!

Emma Messinger:
Peter, you can't say the public are f***ing horrible.

Peter Mannion:
Yes I can, I've met them. [reading] "You've always got such a pained expression. Do you take it up the chutney?" Really? I mean, for God's sake...

Emma Messinger:
The chutney?

Peter Mannion:
It's up the arse.

Malcolm Tucker:
[a party, Ben comes in] Oh, here he is. Dead man walking.

Jamie:
[blinking and making faces] "I-I-I-I wish you stopped saying that!" What's your favorite band? Blink 182?

Glenn Cullen:
Listen, Ollie, you may be babysitting a Nutter, he may look like a Wamble, but he's got Nutter eyes and Nutter ears, so keep an eye on.

Oliver Reeder:
Alright, the minute any chicken blood turns up on the paperwork I'll be straight onto you, don't worry.

Jamie:
Will this help to f*** the Nutters or not?

Julius Nicholson:
Look James, those Nutters, they do not operate in a vacuum. They're part of the party, they're part of government. I mean, Ben Swain is going on Newsnight tonight, God knows what's that gonna throw up.

Malcolm Tucker:
His lunch. I mean, a big nothing, junior Nutter being interviewed by a dwarf hack.

Julius Nicholson:
That is a Paxman interview.

Malcolm Tucker:
No, it's not Paxman. Are you sure of that?

Julius Nicholson:
Yes Malcolm, I'm sure it's Paxman. I've just spoken to Pat Morissy, she's confirmed it half an hour ago.

Malcolm Tucker:
She's ticked this? Well, fine, you know, Paxman, I mean he's lost his teeth anyway, he's like Russel f***ing Hearty these days.

Jamie:
Without the element of danger.

Malcolm Tucker:
[after the meeting] What happened to my tick?

Jamie:
I don't know.

Malcolm Tucker:
God, I just got it and now Pat's taken it away! It's a two-ticks system and she gets both f***ing ticks!

Jamie:
Pumpkin-ticks.

Malcolm Tucker:
She's got a f***ing enormous box as well.

Oliver Reeder:
Well, just check the lines with Pat Morissy, then we'll...

Jamie:
Pat Morissy?

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah.

Jamie:
What, Fat Pat? Pumpkin-tits?

Oliver Reeder:
Yeah. Pat and Communications have asked that everything be double-ticked through her from now.

[to Tucker]

Oliver Reeder:
Well you get a tick as well, obviously.

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, obviously. Well that's very very nice of them, that's very f***ing big of them. I get a tick?

Oliver Reeder:
It's two ticks for a green light, basically.

Malcolm Tucker:
Pat Morissy. The Communications is full of Nutters this days!

Jamie:
As soon as the PM said he'll be gone inside of a year the Nutters start popping-up like mela-f***ing-noma.

Malcolm Tucker:
[to Ollie] See you later. See you in a tick.

Jamie:
[to Ollie] What about you? You're not a Nutter, are you?

Oliver Reeder:
I'm not a Nutter, Jamie. I'm a nipper.

Oliver Reeder:
[to Jamie and Malcolm] What are the two of you doing around Richmond Terrace?

Jamie:
Oh, we're slobbing it. Just going to see Julius, the big baldie ball-bag.

Phil Smith:
[complaining about Ollie being in their flat] Why the f*** do you keep inviting him round here?

Emma Messinger:
Why, are you a bit jealous?

Phil Smith:
What, of the man from the Mister Muscle adverts? I just think it's just unreasonable that I have to watch what I say in my own flat! You could at least give me warning when he's coming round or something.

Emma Messinger:
I'll tell you what, we can put a sex-grid on the fridge, so that you can have dates and stuff. I'll put an A-4 piece of paper for me up and then you could have a half a post-it note. You could share with Affers, maybe.

Phil Smith:
Yeah, I'll have to write very small, though. I've slept with 3 women in...

Oliver Reeder:
Your life?

Phil Smith:
Yes.

Malcolm Tucker:
What is going on with this coalface bullshit, Terri?

Terri Coverley:
What this? What this? I don't understand...

Malcolm Tucker:
The Opposition fat-fighting immigration.

Terri Coverley:
There was an official request this afternoon from Stewart Pearson, their PR guy. I saw no legitimate reason to stop it, so... And he was very nice.

Malcolm Tucker:
He was nice?

Terri Coverley:
Good manners cost nothing, Malcolm. Just because you two were raised by Scottish wolves!

Terri Coverley:
[on the phone, about Peter Mannion in the Immigration center] When everyone went out of the office he just Googled his name.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, that's always fun. Although I find it quicker just to poke needles in my eyes.

Peter Mannion:
[on the phone] Phil. Have you seen my blog?

Phil Smith:
Yeah.

Peter Mannion:
I thought you said nobody reads this things, except political obsessives and mad Christians in wheelchairs but loads of people read mine, because there's a shitload of new obuse on that feedback thing.

Phil Smith:
Yeah, I mean, you read the thing about you being a Holocaust denyer.

Peter Mannion:
Yeah, and the thing about cats!

Malcolm Tucker:
[on the phone, talking about the "Silly Tucker" article] The story isn't me, Glenn, ok? Nobody is interested in me and I'll be pleased if you would remember that, ok?

Glenn Cullen:
You sure you don't want me and Hugh to come back, we could give you some cover?

Malcolm Tucker:
Hugh is not coming back, it will look like we're panicking and we're not panicking, but I need you back here f***ing ASAP to let them know that we're not panicking!

Glenn Cullen:
So you want me to interrupt my holiday in a panic so Hugh doesn't have to interrupt his holiday and look like he's panicking?

Malcolm Tucker:
You get back here! I wanna see you popping a bollock for me! [hangs up. Jamie comes into the office with the article]

Jamie:
You seen this?

Malcolm Tucker:
No, I haven't seen that. I'm the senior press guy for the government of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. No, I don't look at the newspapers, that's f***ing news to me!

Jamie:
Allright, allright, what are we doing?

Malcolm Tucker:
What are we doing? F*** all, we're not doing nothing, because I am not the story here!

Jamie:
You kind of are the story, Malcolm. They spelled your name right and everything.

Malcolm Tucker:
Look, I'm not doing nothing. Not drawing attention to it!

Jamie:
I'm not drawing attention to it.

Malcolm Tucker:
You're drawing MY attention to it! [Jamie looks at the article] Stop looking at it!

Jamie:
Allright, allright, we'll stay frozen to the f***ing phone, we'll send the media to Coventry, that will help.

Malcolm Tucker:
That WILL help, that is the way I wanna play it, ok? I'm going for a walk.

Jamie:
A walk?

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, what, I don't need your f***ing permission to go for a walk!

Jamie:
No,no.

Malcolm Tucker:
I can go for a walk?

Jamie:
Yeah, I just never seen you going for a walk before.

Malcolm Tucker:
How do you think I get in here in the morning? How do I get from the front door to here, I f***ing walk, don't I?

Jamie:
Yeah, but you don't go FOR a walk.

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm away for a walk!

Malcolm Tucker:
You and me, Ollie, hey? I just realized that we're on the same boat, yeah? I mean, obvioulsy, I'm up on the bridge with the binoculars and the Richard Gere gear on, you're down in the engine room trying not to get bum-raped by a bunch of big lads with shovels, but, essentially, it's the same boat!

Oliver Reeder:
[Tucker's trying to get Ollie to use his now ex-girlfriend Emma for his political schemes again] Malcolm, this is really crossing the line!

Malcolm Tucker:
Don't start with the moral objections, you f***ing Blue Peter badge wearing ponce! Go and make a contribution to the f***ing Amnesty International! Go and buy a goat a whole village can f***, but you are doing this for me!

Oliver Reeder:
Malcolm! You're bullying me, and I dunno why you're bullying me...

Malcolm Tucker:
How dare you! How dare you! Don't you ever, ever call me a bully! I'm so much worse than that.

Peter Mannion:
Do I know you? Don't you work for somebody famous? Malcolm Hamish McDeath?

Jamie:
It's Peter Onion, isn't it?

Peter Mannion:
[laughs] That's right.

Jamie:
I alway forget, are you the forced abortion or the lovechild? Or the guy who asphyxiated himself with a kiwi?

Peter Mannion:
Just the lovechild. I was the quite one.

Malcolm Tucker:
[Julius stops Malcolm and Ben from spoiling the PM's Legacy announcement on Newsnight] Right, that's your 15 minutes up. Should have been a bit faster off your feet. Just don't clearly mention the policy.

Ben Swain:
Well, I can't... Then you'll have to cancel it.

Malcolm Tucker:
Are you f***ing kidding me? I mean, you've just watched me break my not-inconsiderable balls trying to get you the second spot on Newsnight. And succeding! I can't back down! No, no, you're on, pal, right? And it better not be too boring, and it better not be too interesting either, ok? And it better not cost too much. It can't be an old thing, obviously, and don't make it too new. And whatever you do, please try not to embarrass yourself, right?

Julius Nicholson:
Right, I want one minute of your time, Malcolm. Just thought you'd like to know that thanks to the mailstorm of confusion and the toing and the froing and the chopping and the changing, the Legacy project has now been ditched. The Prime Minister decided to pull it. Yeah, I hope you're happy about that, Malcolm. I'm sure you are.

Malcolm Tucker:
You know, Julius, if I wasn't an heterosexual man I would kiss you.

Malcolm Tucker:
Ah, Paxo, I'll miss him when he has that massive coronary.

Jamie:
[after the PM's announced his resignation] You f***ing dick! This is all down to you, you know!

Malcolm Tucker:
Oh, don't be so f***ing stupid!

Jamie:
You're a f***ing Nutter!

Malcolm Tucker:
I'm not a Nutter!

Jamie:
Oh, you are going Nutter, mate!

Peter Mannion:
[to Phil, after the PM's resignation announcement] All blown out of the f***ing water! Two days in that hellhole, two days in that f***ing pit! I COULD rape a cat now and I wouldn't get a paragraph!

Julius Nicholson:
[after the PM's surprising resignation] I can't believe it. That was not the date.

Malcolm Tucker:
You can say that again.

Julius Nicholson:
I was given the incorrect date, rather than the date was changed or the original date was not the actual date.

Malcolm Tucker:
Yeah, I f***ing know that.

Julius Nicholson:
I can't believe he didn't tell me the f***ing date! That is f***ing rude, isn't it? I think my diaries will make a pretty interesting reading. Don't try to sack the chief examiner over his son's retake, oh yes, I think they might make an interesting reading, actually.