Tell them we may comment on this police arrest backlog.
Yeah, but we do need to coordinate that with the Home Office.
Yeah, we're on duel commentary. Yeah, like the tennis.
Yeah, sadly without Boris Becker.
I'm very surprised that Sue Barker doesn't just sink her teeth
into his thighs, aren't you?
Okay, team, we need to get it out there that the police arrest backlog
is not a DoSAC FUBAR. Okay?
The Home Office cut paperwork, therefore there are more bobbies on the beat,
no one to process them at the stations.
I doubt there are any major criminals on the loose.
It's about paperwork, it's not Con Air . I mean, I wish it was.
-Give that to Peter. -Oh, good morning, Minister.
-How did it go with the DPM? -(SIGHS)
Oh, so that good. I've got to go.
Anyone read Wolf Hall?
I'm just shuttling messages between them.
I'm like a blue-bottomed fly, frankly.
Ah! From Fergus.
It's the one set on a plane.
No, that's Snakes on a Plane.
This one is Nicholas Cage on a plane.
(PHONE RINGING)
PHIL: (SIGHS) Heaven's sake!
(PHONE RINGING)
Look, Phil. Every petty criminal in the country is in a holding pattern
because that barrel of cocks at the Home Office
can't process their arrests quick enough.
So why am I the one who has to gimp himself out all day
to Martha Kearney and Eddie Mair?
Because since the inquiry, DoSAC looks toxic and weak,
and they're just trying to pile all the government's ills on top of us.
Whose fault's that, Phil?
I've said I'm sorry about the inquiry, okay?
I started writing you a letter but it, it, it just seemed pretentious.
Look, if it's any consolation, I haven't felt that humiliated
since my trunks fell down at the school swimming gala.
It's of absolutely no consolation to think of you naked in front of 500 boys.
Yeah, absolutely, Trevor. Okay, yeah, drinks soon. Yeah, you, too.
(LAUGHS) Okay, bye.
Oh, God! I just felt my ovaries cringe.
I'm trying to flirt our way out of this police backlog.
Peter, quick reminder. ThinkSocially, the social enterprise scheme.
-We're launching it tomorrow. -Sod that.
I need to keep a low profile. Give it to Fergus and Adam.
Sorry, Han, can I just put you on pause there?
-I'm just in the Minister's office. -Oh, great!
Oh, no, the proper one! (LAUGHS) Just pausing you there.
Mary Drake from the Home Office.
She's going to come over, fancies a chat.
But I told old iron blouse that I'd talk to her presently.
What part of that sentence doesn't she understand?
TERRI: Just thought you'd like to know.
I don't want to be accused of being a barricade or anything.
ALL: Blockage.
Look, things were said at that inquiry, Terri.
They certainly were.
Yeah, well, can you just be a fucking professional and get Fergus in here?
I am an F-wording professional.
Wait, wait, Terri. Can you
give this to Fergus and tell him he's going to front ThinkSocially tomorrow?
Ah. Yeah, okay. Er, erm, Peter, may I just...
No, you may not.
I thought we weren't talking to The Proclaimers?
We have to play happy families for Mary, pretend I don't actually want
to strangle Fergus's bollocks so they look like glace cherries.
-Sorry. Can, can I... -Christ, you just can't flush her.
(SOFTLY) Can I borrow her?
Yeah, but there's a fine if you don't bring her back.
Actually, it should be a fine if you do bring her back.
Ever since this inquiry,
Mannion and Fergus, their communication has totally broken down.
Yes, which is why we have the, the double-stamp system.
-Yeah but... -No decisions without dual approval.
-What... -Occasionally, just because of
a time-sensitive decision, I have got a stamp from Peter
but unfortunately been unable to locate Fergus.
Okay, Terri, let's just fast-forward to the bit
where I don't want to eat my own lips off.
In order to prevent a Fergal paper jam, I have stamped certain decisions
based on what I imagined he might think.
So, so you have approved a policy that Fergus is going to launch,
that Fergus knows nothing about.
-Sort of. -Sort of, or sort of exactly?
Sort of exactly.
You are telling me that you have been running parts of this country, Terri.
What the fuck are you trying to do, prove the Mayans right?
Ha! Dear Jim, please could you fix it for me
for two departments to fuck up on the same day? Yes, I can. (LAUGHS)
So this government arrest backlog is a really lovely gift token.
Mmm.
The question is what does Daddy buy with it?
Uh, you, the daddy man, er, you could...
How about you point up the split between the HO and DoSAC?
Take the sort of "a Government divided?" route.
Nice, hmm.
Meanwhile, an unarrested feral underclass has gone Mad Max
and police station waiting rooms are heaving like the hedgehog carvery
at a gypsy wedding.
(MOBILE RINGING)
Oh, I do apologise, excuse me. I need to take this.
-We need to drop Malcolm. -Right.
I can't get on my high horse about crime issues
the day after my Director of Communications may have,
i.e. definitely has, committed perjury.
-Mmm. -And I like getting on my high horse.
I look good on it. Like a knight.
So, they're actually going to pursue this?
Right. Thanks for the heads-up, mate, yeah.
Listen, I need a police station with a lot of exits and entrances,
in case the press show up.
(WHISPERING) Sam. Sam, Sam.
Brentford, right, okay. Listen, Sam.
Get ahold of Greg Fraser for me.
I need some hard lawyering, yeah?
-Pink. Pink flowers. For my mother. -Pink.
It's her 80th birthday. Lovely big bouquet of pink ones.
Lovely. How, how are you doing?
I'm bitching. Yes, I'm as busy as a two-twatted hooker.
Great. I, I was thinking, Malcolm,
maybe you should take a bit of time off,
just, you know, maybe tour the Highland distilleries
or whatever it is your people do. You know, take up stunt kiting.
Well, we don't take advice from a guy who looks like
he gels his hair by sticking it up a cow's vagina.
-All right, fair enough. -Here's an idea
that you could pitch to Millertron 3000.
Yes?
Get him to go to a police station, yeah?
-But pick a big one, right? -Right.
Lewisham. It's more impact with a big one
but make sure we get as many press there as possible.
Yeah, okay.
Dan Miller is visiting a police station.
What? Why? Why aren't I visiting a police station?
-Why didn't you think of that? -Yes, why didn't you think of that?
I did. I nearly did, okay? I, I was about to think of that.
Christ, it's like Harry Potter all over again.
You know, I thought of that. I just didn't write it down.
It was Gandalf at school, but it's the same principle.
Look, Fergus has got an idea about the police backlog, just tell him.
Yeah, I'm going to. It is basically an issue of manpower, so we outsource,
we get the private sector in to clear it up. It's problem solved.
It's obvious, really.
Yeah, yeah. Yes, it... Yes, it is obvious.
That's two obvious things you've missed today.
-Idiot! -Yeah, well, what do you think?
No, I think it's good. I mean, the private sector dives in and saves us.
-It plays well for us. -FERGUS: Oh, thank you.
Yeah. Till we, till we get the bill.
Because we've got no money. Anyway, I'm just popping out to Tesco Metro.
-Anyone want a yoghurt? -No, Glenn. No.
Ah, Peter. This War of the Roses with the Home Office? It ends now.
We want a united realm. There's no vision in division.
Well, yes, there is. Anyway, tell Perkin Warbeck over there.
Okay, people, could we briefly form a coherent group?
Mary Drake is in the building. She's on her way up.
Okay, shields up, guys. Centurions, we're forming a tortoise.
Okay, Terri. ThinkSocially. Did I sign off on this?
Because I hadn't heard of ThinkSocially until I said it just then.
-Okay, er... -So what is it?
-Simple explanation. -Love to hear it.
TERRI: Yeah. Very... PETER: Oh, God, here's Mary.
Bunch up, everyone, so she doesn't see the corpses.
Look, synchronise lies, all right? Mary, hi.
Hi, Emma, we met at the away day.
I so enjoyed our, our mood play.
Yes, you actually did, didn't you?
Oh, you must be the legendary Terri.
-(TERRI LAUGHS) -I've heard a great deal about you.
Oh, oh, please, don't, er, don't believe everything that you hear.
I fully intend not to.
Stewart. Chakras balanced?
Er, sorry. Tiny bit of housekeeping.
Terri, erm, ThinkSocially?
-Just checking in on that. -Yes.
Yes, it's a go thing. Double-stamped, yes.
Mary. Great to see you again.
I'm here in an angry capacity.
Ah! The cream in our coffee, Mary.
The message from the Home Office is this:
Move away from the backlog. There's nothing to see.
Let the police do their jobs, let us do ours.
-Sorry to be, er, contrary, Mary... -(LAUGHING)
...but Peter and I have just been discussing this very issue.
MARY: Shut up.
Let me tell you something now.
DoSAC is one rat's whisker away from being shut down
and subsumed by the Home Office
and put in charge of cocking up the tea run!
And I like mine weak and white. Like my men.
Stewart, any thoughts from within your fucking dream yurt?
I will go and try and de-frag this situation,
but I am staying strictly macro.
Subtitles. You need subtitles!
Sorry, erm, ThinkSocially. Terri, would you mind explaining rationally
why I appear to be giving a ringing endorsement to a piece of shit
that I've never even heard of?
It's not my fault. It's the double-stamping nonsense.
-That's the reason. -Oh, really?
-Yeah. -Because right now,
I want to double-stamp on your fucking throat.
I'm going to take that seriously as a physical threat.
You know, one of the many, many things that baffles me about you
is you remain unmurdered!
-What time are we due at the Mirror? -Oh, not for another hour.
Oh, okay.
Got plenty of time to get into your Boudica mode.
-I am woman, hear me roar! -(CHUCKLES)
Get your jugs out. Get on your chariot. (LAUGHS)
Oh, crikey.
I think given that I'm hoping to get back into cabinet at some point,
I might keep my jugs in the cupboard. (LAUGHS)
Right.
Or I suppose I could always pop one of them out if the interview's flagging.
It's an option. (CHUCKLES)
Erm, I did apologise, didn't I, for telling you to fuck off?
-Yes. -Good.
Because I, you know, I didn't mean it.
I wouldn't be here if I thought you meant it.
I've got plenty of places to fuck off to.
That's a big funeral home, isn't it?
-M Tucker. -Olly.
-Malcolm. -We need to have a little chat.
You're not splitting up with me, are you?
Because I'm pregnant and it's quads, so, you know. You're not laughing.
Well, I'm laughing on the inside.
Which is a tad ironic, because I'm leaving here in five minutes
to get arrested.
Hang on. Sorry?
Er, you're going to be arrested at the exact same time
that Dan Miller's doing his Lewisham walkabout?
Yeah. But I'm going to Brentford where nobody will be watching me,
because they'll all be with him.
So the Leader of the Opposition is going to be filmed
at a police station at the exact moment that his head of communications
is being arrested. Yes! Okay, great, great.
So that's a sackful of face-chewing rats, thank you very much.
Look, it's... This is what you have to deal with, right?
It's just another day at the fuck office.
So, now, I have to step into your shoes but after you've shat in them?
Olly, look at me. I'm not pulling anything out of a magic hat.
The rabbits are falling to pieces.
Their fucking heads are coming off and frightening the kids.
So, somebody else is going to have to help out.
Well, who says I even want to be you, Malcolm? Who says that?
Nobody says that. Except every screaming atom
of that etiolated stick of fuck you call a body says that.
Every fibre of your being, every stamen says that.
-But you are not me, Olly. -No.
And you never will be me. I knew Malcolm F Tucker, sir.
And you are not Malcolm Fucking Tucker.
You're not even fucking Manchester's top Malcolm Tucker tribute band.
And trying to be me? You?
Trying to be me will fucking kill you.
I give you 18 months before you're a washed-out,
weeping alcoholic with no fucking bladder control.
Sleeping on your brother-in-law's sofa.
And so on and so on. It doesn't have to be like that now, Malcolm.
-Politics has actually changed. -Oh?
Right? Yeah, yeah. And you probably haven't noticed
because you've been on transmit for the last fucking eight years.
Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah!
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.
Oh, how quickly they grow up. You fucking think you know me?
Well, yeah. Yeah, I know you.
You know Jackie fucking Chan about me.
You know fuck all about me!
I am totally beyond the realms of your fucking tousle-haired, fucking dimwitted
compre-fucking-hension. I don't just take this fucking job home, you know.
I take this job home, it fucking ties me to the bed
and it fucking fucks me from arsehole to breakfast.
Then it wakes me up in the morning with a cupful of piss slung in my face,
slaps me about the chops to make sure I'm awake enough
so it can kick me in the fucking bollocks. This job has taken me
in every hole in my fucking body.
Malcolm is gone! You can't know Malcolm, because Malcolm is not here!
Malcolm fucking left the building fucking years ago!
This is a fucking husk.
I am a fucking host for this fucking job.
Do you want this job?
-Yes. -Yes, you do fucking want this job.
Then you're going to have to fucking swallow this whole fucking life
and let it grow inside you like a parasite.
Getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it fucking
eats your insides alive and it stares out of your eyes
and tells you what to do.
Malcolm, this sounds like the fucking video you leave on YouTube
after you've blown your brains out.
I'm as dead as fucking two-tone. But I can fashion my own exit.
Oh, Christ! What, are you going to fly to Switzerland
and have a wank off a nurse and a bye-bye pill, are you?
Funny, funny man. Political exit.
No, I know.
I'm going to leave the stage with my head held fucking high. Right?
What you're going to see is a master class in fucking 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, fuck them.
-NICOLA: Hello. Hi. -Hello.
Hi. Nicola Murray, Leader of... Oh, I have to stop saying that.
-Hello. Helen, hi. -Declan.
NICOLA: Declan, hi. DECLAN: Nice to see you again.
-Yes, again, er... -Do you not remember me?
I am so sorry, you look very familiar. But it's just I meet so...
-Well, I met so many people. -"You're for the chop!"
-(CHUCKLES) -Oh, right. You're...
-(LAUGHS) Okay. Mr Chop. -Mmm-hmm.
Yeah. I'll look forward to giving you a bit of a grilling.
Well, this might be your chance. I'm the one doing the interview.
-Are you? Great. -Just...
HELEN: Here we are. Oh! DECLAN: Here's an old friend.
NICOLA: Oh, yeah. HELEN: Wow. Yeah.
Still... Still doing that joke! (LAUGHS)
HELEN: Big, though, isn't it?
Um, if you'll just excuse us for one minute, Mr Ch...
Erm...
-Declan. Sorry. -Declan. Yes, yes, yes, of course.
-I just need a quick strategy chat. -Sure.
I am, er, ever so close
to being on the verge of bawling my fucking eyes out
disappointed about this. I mean, this was it, was it?
What was the alternative? Going on Strictly Come Dancing
and doing a fucking hooky waltz with Abu Hamza?
This is pretty low. This is lower than my mother's pelvic floor, Helen.
I had to virtually go on the game to get you this.
So, frankly, I don't care whether he wants
to roll around in apple sauce with you, get in there and do as you're told.
Right. I will go, because I'm choosing to go in,
but I just need you to know, for the record...
Just get in there before I push you in.
If they video this as well, I'm going to swallow my own fucking thumbs.
-Okay. -Sorry about that, yes.
Not at all. Now, we're going to be videoing this as well, if that's okay.
So, I thought interview first, then I'll get myself
into my chop costume and we'll do a little double act.
What news from the front, my hardy legionnaires?
Er, Forest Hill running smooth, Croydon lag time, get it?
Down to 15 minutes, slamming the hoods.
-Boom! Fuck the Home Office. -Yeah.
-Double-stamped. -Fuck the police!
Yeah, that doesn't work.
Christ, I haven't felt this alive for months.
I've felt like I've had a health scare.
Okay, Dan Miller's station visit's on.
He's going to be meeting and greasing. Ugh.
Er, Emma, which police station is it?
Lewisham. Actually, Phil, how long is the waiting time there?
Well, that's a big nick. Tough nut to crack.
Phil, can you stop pretending you're in The Sweeney and just,
just give me a fucking fact?
-How long? -It's coming down.
Hour, hour and a half, tops.
-Okay. -So listen, you know,
I, I was thinking of learning a new language.
-(MOBILE RINGING) -Oh, sorry, got to take that.
Oh! It's my sister.
EMMA: Peter, we need to get as many staff
as possible down to Lewisham, okay?
When Miller gets there, we need them to be processing like, like human Pentiums.
Yeah, I agree. I don't care who's queuing for arrest
or if they go on to kill again, Lewisham's the priority.
Brilliant! We make it seem like Dan Miller's the problem.
He's wasting police time. He's the backlog.
-Oh, Peter. When you have a moment... -Yeah.
...erm, can I get a quote on Malcolm's arrest?
-Malcolm? -Tucker.
Malcolm Tucker's being arrested?
Well, I was thinking of coming down there in October anyway.
What the fuck? This is...
I've been getting calls for 15 minutes.
These aren't the same sources that told you David Beckham was running for mayor?
Malcolm's solicitor phoned the police, who phones the journalists
-and they tell me. -Okay, right.
And after all that people phoning you,
then you just... Then you just have a little tuna salad, do you?
Watch Loose Women? You lay an egg over there and then...
Terri, Terri. Can you spot who, who the blockage is in this office?
I have been getting on with doing
exactly what you told me to, which was...
-What? -...dealing with this arrest backlog.
Can't you react to events? Fuck!
Yes, just doing one thing at a time, are you? Because you're a uni-tasker?
All the press are going to focus on, right, is, is Malcolm's arrest,
not on everyone else who's being arrested. We've been trumped again!
No, this is good. We swoop in, sort the system, and we get Tucker in clink,
-it's a double-stamp. -Which police station's he going to?
TERRI: Brentford, apparently. EMMA: Brentford.
Shit, it's off-grid! It'd be here. The vector would be here.
-TERRI: Right. -Okay, listen up everybody.
Forget Lewisham.
I want every warm body we've got down to Brentford.
Let's put the fucker in a cell with a genuine psychopath, seriously.
Can I just make sure that this is a double-stamp?
This is a double-stamp.
Yeah, well, don't worry, because I can come down and I'll have that wall
whitewashed in about half an hour.
So, you're telling me I literally cannot get arrested?
Look, I haven't got the staff to deal with the workload right now.
My client is doing everything in his power to help you with your inquiries.
They are processing arrests at Lewisham, I suggest you head down there.
-We can't go to Lewisham. -Why not?
Dan Miller's there, fondling truncheons.
Oh!
-This, as you can see, is our... -Dan Miller, hello.
...control room, our...
-Hello. Dan Miller. -Our nerve centre, shall we say,
where we've been managing the situation.
Hi. Dan Miller.
So, you must be incredibly concerned with the log jam that we've been seeing.
Oh, absolutely, yesterday was a very, er, challenging day.
I can imagine.
Yeah, but since we've had the additional help from the private contractors,
we're really getting on top of it.
Great. Well, yeah. Can I just...
-Oh, of course. -Olly, what the fuck are we doing here?
Everything's fine. I'm like lube at a funeral.
Yeah. I can't believe it but DoSAC have actually turned this around.
They've Apollo 13'd it.
Fucking press.
MALCOLM: Excuse me, is there another way out of here?
PRISONER: You could hang yourself. MALCOLM: Fuck off!
Just down there, turn right, on the left.
Have you heard this rumour that Malcolm Tucker's going to get arrested?
Two minutes, I will have something for you on that.
Tell me that was a rhetorical question.
Erm, Malcolm was supposed to get arrested, erm, quietly
on the other side of town but obviously it's actually got out.
How?
Do I have to say this? Do I have to say it out loud?
-Because the police... -Oh, why don't you say it out loud? Yes.
Yes. Maybe they can do me a favour and throw you down the fucking stairs.
This is basically the same fucking exit.
This is rubbish! This is... This is literally rubbish.
JOURNALIST 1: Malcolm! Malcolm! Excuse me! Excuse me!
JOURNALIST 2: Malcolm!
Hey! Get the fuck back here! Jesus Christ.
Go. Go, go, go!
MALCOLM: You fucking drive off like that again, I'll stick your meter
so far down your throat you'll be able to tell the price of your next shit.
Why the fuck have you brought me to a police station
when one of our most senior figures is about to be arrested?
Erm, don't clasp your hands behind your back,
it makes you look like you've been cuffed.
(MOBILE RINGING)
Oh, it's him. Marvellous!
Put him on speakerphone, he might want to do an interview down the line.
Oliver Reeder.
MALCOLM: Olly, some press turned up at Brentford.
I've just been chased into a cab. It's like Hard Day's fucking Night.
-Where can I go? -Er, I'm hearing Hackney's good.
82% operational.
Olly, will you please keep the rest of the press there with Dan in Lewisham?
Please. I need my dignity.
-Come on, give me my fucking dignity. -Er, thanks for calling.
Okay, we need to get out of here as quickly as we possibly can.
-Thank you very much. -Thank you very much.
-That was really wonderful, carry on. -I'll see you out.
Super, super station. Love what you've done with it.
Malcolm's gone. What's happening? Did he escape?
No, the press were there, it was taking too long.
For Christ's sake, this is like Tora-fucking-Bora all over again.
Where did he go? We've got to get everyone to that location now.
Look, I'll find out, I'll find out.
Let's get a chopper in the air.
-Be like the OJ chase! -He is getting bloody arrested today?
Absolutely he is. This is legacy stuff,
the men who threw Malcolm Tucker in the slammer!
Can I just say that my idea for pop-up prisons doesn't seem so stupid now.
All right? Being this close is not going to...
(MOBILE BEEPING)
-Hackney, Hackney. -There. That's Hackney.
-Hackney. -Okay, it's my manor.
Adam, make it happen. Boots on the ground, yeah?
All right. This is fucking awesome.
It's like Cobra. I hope I get Defence next. Imagine that.
-Want the headset now, don't you? -Fuck off.
I'm just going to make myself an Earl Grey, Glenn, can I get you something?
No, I'm tea'd out. Thank you, Terri.
-Oh. Want a hand? -While you're there
-you could open that cupboard door. -Okay.
-Are you moving offices or something? -Yeah, you could say that.
I'm going to a prison cell.
-Oh, Glenn. -Yeah.
-No. -Yeah.
I've decided I'm going to resign.
Then, after that, I'm going to go to a police station and hand myself in.
No, no, no. Look, I...
I perjured myself at the inquiry, Terri.
They're going to find out. They always do.
I'll have a roof over my head, three meals a day and regular sex.
I might even work out. Get some abs.
What about your sister, Glenn? You've got to whitewash her walls!
Come out, everyone. Tally ho! Yoo-hoo!
Come on, bring out your fucking dead.
Right, everybody listen. I, I've got an announcement to make.
What is it? You got an erection?
No. I would like to tell you all that I'm resigning.
Is that it?
No, you closeted Regency homosexual,
that is not it. Morally, this department
is in the gutter.
Thanks for the speech, Glenn, but...
You stay and take your punishment!
(PHIL HOOTING)
I will lamp you, with a lamp.
Glenn, you've gone a tiny bit psychotic, my love.
You, Fergus. When you asked me to join you, all you had was your principles.
But over the last two years, you've bent like a human fucking palm tree,
swaying to the guff of these six-toed, born-to-rule pony-fuckers.
If you're going to go, just go.
-GLENN: Oh! -Spare us this Peter Finch bullshit.
Adam, you're waiting for your turn!
Oh no! I remember. It's your turn right now.
-Brilliant. Brilliant. Mmm-hmm. -You are simply
the most loathsome human being I have ever met.
-Yeah. -You were so well-suited at the Mail,
it's a shame you came over here.
-Hear! Hear! -You know what? I hate you both.
Tweedletwat and Tweedleprick.
You contribute absolutely nothing to the world, so thank fucking God
you have no power.
-Er, we do actually. It's... -No, you don't.
And, Peter. It's been dreadful. I hope your cock falls off.
Phil, do you know what you are?
You're like an eight-year-old trapped in a twelve-year-old's body.
This is great. Why is no one filming this?
-GLENN: And Emma... -Yeah, yeah. Do Emma. Do Emma!
Yeah, Emma, I'm sorry. You're just a standard-issue insipid posh bitch.
That's it! Terri!
PHIL: Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I don't think I've ever met anyone quite so proud and yet quite so useless.
But I do have to thank you, because
I have managed to stay in shape purely through the energy I spend
in pitying you every day.
Glenn, you're just embarrassing yourself.
Fuck you all up the wrong'un! Ta-ta! Bye-bye!
That was better than IMAX Inception.
EMMA: Poor, poor Glenn. PETER: Should we try and get him back?
Fuck no! He's gone completely mental.
He's gone Glenn-tal.
JOURNALIST 1: There he is, there he is! JOURNALIST 2: Malcolm!
JOURNALIST 3: Malcolm, can you tell us why you're here today?
MALCOLM: Ready?
JOURNALIST 1: Are you here to be arrested?
-GREG: We have nothing to say. -(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)
GREG: Nothing to say. He has nothing to say.
Out of my way, you fucking human Mooncup.
GREG: Come on, back. MALCOLM: Have a bit of class.
You do not have to say anything.
However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned
something which you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be...
JOURNALISTS: Malcolm! Malcolm!
Back up. Back up. All right, quiet, quieten down! Quieten down!
-Give us something. -I have a brief statement
I will read on behalf of my client.
"I am innocent of all charges and vow to do everything in my power
"to clear my name.
"I will fight this all the way and I am confident no jury will be able
"to look me in the eye and say anything other than I am an innocent man.
"But to avoid any distraction to my official duties
"and to begin preparations for my acquittal, I am standing down
"as Senior Communications Officer to my party and with heavy heart,
"am leaving top-tier politics for good." That is all we have to say at this time.
-Thank you. -(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)
No, I want to say something. I want to say something.
It doesn't matter.
(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)
GREG: Excuse me. Let me through.
JOURNALIST: Have you been sacked, Mr Tucker?
Did you resign or were you sacked? Malcolm? Malcolm?
GREG: "...standing down as Senior Communications Officer to my party..."
Oh, I do feel grubby.
I feel fucking great!
That's a huge scalp. Size of a pizza.
How about a toast to the old bastard's hopeful incarceration
with a fine twelve-year-old Glenn Fuck-it?
I haven't worked all that long or all that closely with Malcolm Tucker
but I wish him luck in clearing his name.
Although, obviously, if he is found guilty, then the full weight of the law
should be... Oh, sorry. Full force of the law should be...
I haven't worked all that long...
With him gone, erm, I feel fresh hope.
We can mend and rebuild a credible politics of integrity and honour.
So, er, thank you very much for coming.
I look forward to seeing much more of you in the coming weeks and months.
Not you, Rod, obviously. You're a twat.
But, er, in spite of the awards. Er, for being a twat, I believe.
So, thanks, fellas, don't be strangers.
Oh, Phil, is it too much for you?
It's strong! Oh, poor old Phil!
EMMA: Did you get it in your eye?
ADAM: I've got an image now of you
puking up on some stripper's shoes and then bursting into tears.
-(BOTH LAUGHING) -Drinking on the job, Peter? Why not?
You've already got the efficiency of a man who's half cut.
Oh, then I must have dreamt that my idea had successfully
reduced the arrest backlog.
MARY: DoSAC did do rather well today, actually.
TERRI: Thank you. MARY: But there's a conspicuous blockage
that will lead to a personnel change.
Stewart. You're out.
You're going to be pickled in a think tank.
-TERRI: What? -Of course I am, Mary.
And whose authority is this coming from, hmm?
The PM, whilst acknowledging the need for thoughts,
is keener on actions these days.
I'm going to be providing those.
Stewart, there's no need for you to clear your desk
because you're a walking thought pod, aren't you?
Absolutely. Thank you very much.
Thanks, erm... You know,
I've spent 10 years detoxifying this party, hmm?
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 cunts.
Wow.
EMMA: Bye, Stewart. PETER: Bye-bye, Stewart.
Thanks for everything!
Sod it.
DECLAN: Now, er, if we can just get a couple of pictures,
someone will give you a knife and fork and if you can pretend to eat me.
PETER: What a great day!
Peter, sorry, The Sun have just been on.
I'm afraid a prisoner who was accused of assaulting his wife,
he was accidentally released,
he's gone back and he's attacked the wife and children.
Oh, shit in the couscous!
EMMA: Right, okay, we need a joint statement.
Both departments were too busy with the backlogs. Okay?
FERGUS: Yeah, basically stuff fell through the cracks.
EMMA: Exactly. FERGUS: It was no one's fault.
TERRI: Can I get this double-stamped? FERGUS: Just fuck the stamps.
TERRI: And whose fault is it that the man was released?
Terri, meeting in my office.
-In Peter's office? -No, we're meeting in my office.
-We're having a meeting... -Okay. No, I'm meeting in my office.
ADAM: Fuck your office. PETER: What a shit day!