All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S02e03.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

(Terri) Can I
cancel the subscription?

Actually, he's dead.
I've got to go.

Can I take it
that it's cancelled?
Thank you.

I'm the Minister for fucking
Social Affairs. Hugh Abbot.

Could you
explain to these people
I'm the reason they're here?

(Terri) Sorry about that.
(Hugh) Amazing place.

(Terri) Welcome back.
(Hugh) Thank you.

It's ironic, we're both
back on the same day.

Although your
reasons for being away
were more important than mine.

- Just a frivolous holiday.
- No...

It was fantastic, though.
You can't go wrong with Italy.

- But how are you?
- Really upset
and sad about it.

- That your father had died.
- My father had died.

Anyway...erm...

- Shall we...?
- We're upstairs.

..get a bit of a wiggle on.
Yes.

So, this is like
a sort of governing mall.

There's actually
quite a few problems here.

- The e-mail
system isn't working.
- Oh.

- And
the intelligent ventilation...
- Intelligent ventilation?

What we've got
is a wind tunnel
up in the Asylum Directorate.

Don't let any of those
out as Diary stories.

This is us.

Right. A bit too light
and airy for my liking.

Ooh...and these are awful.

Do we have to have those? They
look like Alicia's
Barbie furniture.

- Do you think they match?
- Not if you wear that dress.

One of them's going to have
to go and I'd rather
it was the sofas.

- Is this us?
- Yes, this is actually you.

- (Glenn) Isn't
that David Dickinson?
- Ooh, nice tan!

I can't take all the credit,
the sun did the work.

There's not much privacy.

It doesn't matter.
We're moving upstairs.

It's going to be hard
to shoot up in there.

Yeah, yeah, that's true.

This is so poky.

We're not here long enough
for it to matter.

It might interest you.

The date for your appearance
before the Education
Select Committee.

- It's tomorrow.
- Oh, great!

Oh, that is great.
Yes, welcome home, Hugh.

Couldn't you
have pushed it back?

Given me something cushy
for my first week back?

A couple of lunches or
a fact finder to Dublin?

That's the date they gave me.

You can't change
Select Committee dates.

Oh, can't you?
How did Liam get his changed

so he could go
to the Test match?

It's going to be like sitting
on a crate having chicken
shit sprayed over me.

I mean, why do we want
to close down schools for kids
with special needs?

It's the one thing that I
really, really,
actually do not want to do.

And yet, bizarrely, I am
the person most intimately
involved in doing it.

Robyn, go and see IT
about the e-mail problem.

Please. That'd be great.

So now Terri's back, I just
get all the dull stuff.
Is that right?

Pretty much, yes.

Oh, well, right.
Yeah, well, of course.

Well, I'll see you later.

Glenn, the Special Needs Bill.

With your, you know,
particular interest,
I can't do this.

You know my views. Inclusion
is an illusion.
It doesn't work.

- But you don't
mind if I go with it?
- Of course not.

You know, look,
you're only following orders.

So you won't make me feel bad

except by comparing me to
a concentration camp guard?

Right.

Now, tomorrow.
Select Committee,
that's Ballentine, isn't it?

Who wants to go and
watch bollockvision?

Bollockvision?

Mr Malcolm Tucker, turning it
all the way up to eleven,
down in the lobby.

- (Malcolm shouting)
- (Hugh) Poor Keith!

You should have discussed it.

Malcolm must love this.
Four ministers
in one building.

It's his dream.
A one-stop bollock-shop.

Trouble is, we're going to be
getting some of
that in about an hour.

Which is worse? Watching him
rumble towards you
like prostate cancer,

or him appearing suddenly out
of nowhere,
like a severe stroke.

Oh...
How's your sister coping?

So, Hugh,
this new word, "Citizenship".

Did the PM actually outline
what it entails?

To be honest, I think he was
making the reshuffle up
as he went along.

We were lucky that citizenship
was the first word
that sprang to mind.

We could be in the Department
for Social Affairs
and Woodland Folk.

The problem is, though, Hugh,

that there's been
a bit of a rush,
with you not in place,

every department trying
to unload all the stuff that
they didn't want.

It's been like
somebody driving
a lorry down Whitehall,

shouting,
"Bring out your shit",
and it's ended up at our door.

What are we getting?

Citizenship basically involves
cutting pensions
to the Ghurkhas,

rejigging the protocols
for a rabies outbreak,

some crap from Health
about long-term
care for the elderly,

that neither they
nor we have any idea about.

And what to do
with the Isle of Man.

Just what I fucking need.
Five new ways to lose my job.

Where did that come from?

- Oh, Malcolm sent that.
- It's far too big.
Why did he send it?

Office warming present.

- So why did he
send us a present?
- I don't know.

- Has Security checked this?
- What for?
Tiny little terrorists?

- Yes.
- It's a plant. Yes?

So...citizenshit.

What we need is some nice,
touchy-feely,

fondley, sneaky,
hand-in-the-bra policies.

New bicycles for
special constables,
that sort of thing?

Yeah.

Making special needs kids
clean up graffiti.

That's just very mean.

Well, yes. Not, of course,
as mean as making
them spell graffiti.

That genuinely is mean.

- I'll go and have
a word with Malcolm.
- OK.

You just took a shit
with your clothes on, Olly.

- Why?
- Glenn's boy, Peter.

He went to
a special needs school.

Oh.

Yep.

- Glenn's had sex.
- God,
you're such a prick, Olly.

There's more to
life than drinks
at the Foreign Office

and Nick Robinson's number
on your Blackberry.

All right, fine. Sorry, Hugh.

I feel for the guy. I had
a girlfriend with special
needs once, so I know.

Luckily,
I was able to fulfil them.

Oh, God, you're such a...

- Haircut?
- Chemo. Nob.

- So, did you enjoy the show?
- Magnificent.

Should I phone Keith, so I
can get his team to watch
you bollock me now?

No, no. Have I got
my bollocking face on?

- Well...
- No,
this is my bollocking face.

Oh, crikey, yes.
Thanks for the pot plant,
by the way.

- Did I send that?
- As an office
warming present.

-Christ, she's a great PA,
isn't she, Sam?
-Yes.

She always
remembers the little people.

Look at the size of that.
You could crucify
somebody on that.

So, what do you think
of the new building, eh?

I can't wait to move upstairs,
actually.

I don't like the glass walls
on this floor.

I just feel a bit exposed.

Like a whore in
a Reeperbahn window.

Glenn, it's Olly.

He wants you to go through
and clarify
the Citizenship brief.

- How much, love?
- Sorry?

- OK, I'm on it.
- I'll catch you later.

I like the tan, by the way.
Have you declared it?

Staying at the villa
of an influential friend.

I haven't got any
influential friends.

- You are my only
influential friend.
- And I'm not your friend.

You're not my friend.

- So,
this Super Schools Bill...
- Yep.

You don't think
it's so super, do you?

- You're doing it now.
- What?

That's your bollocking face.

You know, it's great that you
get all misty eyed
over Glenn's kid.

But no one's
trying to fuck over
special needs kids.

R...Really?

Before I went away,
I consulted an expert,
Mark Ryan.

The LSE education guy? And
what did that sandal-wearing
nonce have to say?

Closing down
special needs schools

and putting needy kids into
mainstream
education is a lousy idea.

I've got an expert
who will deny that.

SEN parents want
the schools kept open.

Yeah, well, my expert
would totally oppose that.

Who is your expert?

No idea, but I can
get one by this afternoon.

You have spoken to the wrong
expert. You've got to ask
the right expert.

You've got to know what an
expert's going to advise
before he advises.

Hugh, whether you like this
or not, you are going to have
to promote this Bill.

So what I'm going to do is,
I'm going to get
you another expert.

OK.

But surely, Mr Smedley,

inclusion has been shown
to fail the most
vulnerable SEN children.

When inclusion's done badly,
yes. Yes, you get bad results.
That's a given.

Inclusion is an illusion.

Mark Ryan from
the LSE was saying that

when the special schools
do get it right,

that the parents
of SEN children
absolutely fucking flock to...

- You spoke to Mark Ryan?
- Yeah,
well, some expert advice.

- Expert advice
from Mark Ryan?
- Yeah.

- You have a problem
with Ryan?

- In educational circles,
he's a joke.

- That's another given.
- Is it?

- (E-mail alert)
- Ah, sorry.

It's just that I'm
expecting something
quite important.

Is our e-mail up
and running?

No. No, no,
this is my hotmail.

Sorry,
can you excuse me just erm...

(Smedley) We live
in an inclusive society.

We all rub shoulders
together, Mr Cullen?

Indeed.

Let's not let the
Ryans of this world create...

- Sorry?
- ..apartheid for children.

The alternative is to isolate
these kids in ghetto schools.

The minister
won't be a moment.

(Olly) Good
spot for a suicide,
I would think.

Good long drop,
appreciative audience.

What if you just
broke your back?

It'd leave you
paralysed for life,

and you'd still be depressed
about the thing that
was depressing you.

- What are these
hangy-down things?
- (Olly) Acoustic baffles.

They stop it
getting too echoey.

So when you break your back,
nobody can hear you scream.

Well, that is the kind
of attention to detail that
you get in a PFI building.

Hey!
Get back to work, all of you!

Right, I'm off to
Number Ten for this
Cabinet summit

with the PM and Education,
try and swing
this Bill around.

Now, if it drags on
can you phone my
home and tell Kate?

She doesn't watch rolling news
because she's
a normal human being.

(Parody accent)
Yes, massah, I's a good slave!

- Can I say, that manner...
- Something
catastrophic has happened!

Whoa! What's going on?

I've just had a phone call
from a man. He's got a child,
he lives in Reigate.

This child, she is called
Glenn, after Glenn Close,
and her surname is Cullen.

She's Glenn Cullen. And this
morning,
apparently, in her in...

In the e-mail tray,
she got a note,

and it used these words.
"Christ",

and "cunt".

And apparently I sent it.

- No!
- Anybody could
use that computer.

- Hugh,
Glenn says can you head over?
- Yes, I must, I must...

Olly was using it.
Olly was using it earlier.

Did you send an e-mail,
Olly, about me,
calling me a cunt?

No. No, I never use that word,
let alone about you.
No. Absolutely.

I won't use it
until it's been
fully normalised

and has no further association
with the female twat.

- It was you!
- We'll get to
the bottom of this.

I've got to go off to
Number Ten, but I absolutely
give you my word.

Look.

Hugh...

No, I didn't get any e-mail
about Roy Smedley.
Was it funny?

Kind of. It was a bit sweary.

At least he's
served his purpose.

We've now got
some very useful
material to trot out

in case My Bloody Ballentine
wants to know

why you've done a U-turn
in favour of inclusion.

But I haven't.

I'm going to take a fucking
stand. I'm buggered if I
let you down now.

I'm going to go in to the PM
and tell him straight up,
this bill is bollocks.

No, you're not.

No, I'm not, but
it would be great if I did.

Another little bit
of my soul chipped away.

Don't worry about it.

(Frantic stonewalling)

Hugh, the Guardianweb site
has broken the e-mail thing.

In the final edition,
here, of the Standard

I am suddenly
a major news story.

Sweary Woman Of Whitehall.

Sweary Woman Of Whitehall.
A pun.

It's not really punning
on anything, is it?

How do you
appear out of nowhere
in a building made of glass?

I'm a shape shifter.
I don't need this,
get this fucking sorted.

What is wrong with you?
Having a nervous breakdown?

Get on top of it, OK?
You will see me again.

I don't want this, Hugh.
I don't want to be the story.

The Sunare running a cartoon
with you being
arrested by a cuntstable.

- Olly,
don't be such a bastard.
- Hey, whoa, turd tonsils.

That's quite
enough of that, Olly.
Just knock it off, OK.

Terri, Terri, come with me.
Come here.

Just fucking act your age.
We've had enough of your
puerile influence.

Actually, I think
I might have an idea about...

Just...just tell me,
truthfully,

did you send that e-mail?

No, I didn't.

And you know I didn't.

- What? I'm sorry?
Are you inferring...
- Implying.

- You're implying
that...it was me?
- Hmm.

(Whispering) I saw you, Hugh.
I saw you do it.

(Floor creaking)

It...it was for Glenn,
for our Glenn.

To amuse him when that
prick man was in his office,

and I just typed in
the wrong address.

It was a genuine mistake.

I didn't really see you.
I was bluffing.

That doesn't bode well
for your Select
Committee performance.

I knew you were bluffing.
I admitted it because it's
the right thing to do.

Not because
you'd caught me out.
And I caught you out.

You lied about
seeing me do it.

So,
how do you like them apples?

Are you going to
admit to this publicly?

What?

No! Are you mad? I can't do
that. That mustn't happen.
You've got...

- I need you to...to...to...
- What? To lie?

It was Derrida who said
there is no such thing as
empirical truth.

I'll tell you what Derrida
said. He said,
"Go fuck your face, Abbot!"

You need to mind your
language. It will keep
getting you into trouble.

I can't even get out
of the fucking room!

(Terri) Excuse me.

Now to the meat
of the Committee's interest.

You've made quite a U-turn on
SEN schools,
have you not, Minister?

Why have you sold out?

Sold out? That's rather
an emotive way of putting it.

But you are on record
as having been in opposition

to the policy of inclusion.

No, it's just that times have
changed and I have
reassessed the landscape.

We now have
the funding for academies

which will have two
behaviour support teachers.

These Super Schools
will offer skill clusters...

But we're not
interested in that.

What the Committee
are curious about is

how it is that
you've changed your mind,

given your
opposition to these policies
in the past.

Did you seek
specialist advice?

Well, naturally.
I sought expert advice.

Yes. Who?

- Roy Smedley.
- And?

And...he was very good.

And his was
the only advice you took?

You saw only one expert?

Yes.

And you thought
that was enough?
Just one?

- I tried to find
somebody different.
- And did you succeed?

- No.
- No one?

No.

How was that?

I lied to
the Select Committee. I lied.

- Is Tucker in the building?
- Malcolm In The Middle.

It's what they're calling him.
He can stand in
the atrium and shout.

I don't want to see him.

I can't take one
of his scenes from
The Exorcistjust now.

I don't think
Ballentine's on to anything.

Oh, no?

Well, why did she keep asking,
"Just one expert? Only one?

"Less than three,
but not two?"
Fucking bitch!

She's trying to
throw you off balance,
like a Sumo wrestler.

It worked.
I was on the floor,
in a fucking nappy.

Oh, shit, it's Malcolm.

- A man in his 50s, hiding.
- Look, he's gone.
Hugh, come out.

Get it in perspective.
It's not a major lie.

It's not like you were selling
naval secrets down a gay club.

Why does he never
laugh with me like that?

(Olly) Lack of click?

I thought I was
a professional press officer.

I don't know.

It just is absolute hell.

- Hi.
- Oh, hello.

- How is the...
- I'm actually in
a bit of a state here.

Yeah.

Something cropped up
that we need to talk about,

and then
afterwards you can get on
with whatever... You know.

Don't you think that
I'm due a bit of support?

Yes, I do, I do. Absolutely.

But my Committee thing is
actually a bigger deal than
your...sweary thing.

So, you know...it just is.

- Hi, Malcolm.
- Were you hiding just now?

No.

Terri, you're giving
a press
conference in 90 minutes.

You're going to apologise.

There's your statement.
Learn it.

Erm...I organise
the press conferences.

- I don't give them, normally.
- Oh, God!

As you're not used to this,
I'll go through it for you.

What happens is this.
A bunch of
press people appear.

They have things called
cameras and microphones,

and mobile phones,
hangovers and bad breath.

Then you are going to walk
out and read from what we call
a prepared statement.

In that, you will say,

"I'm really fucking sorry

"for sounding like
a hairy arsed docker
after 12 pints.

"I promise that I will never
call an eight-year-old
girl a cunt again.

"Can we now just draw a line
over this and fucking move on?
Thank you."

Everybody goes home
and we see what happens.

The best case is
you keep your job,

although you will be
The Sweary Woman of Whitehall.

This first Mark Ryan meeting
would be in the diary.

Do you want us to see if we
could post that down
the memory hole?

I mean, diaries do
get lost, don't they?

Well, yes.

- We've lost a few
diaries in our time.
- Well, erm...

Listen, do it subtly.
I don't want to know about it.

- I mean,
do it, but don't tell me.
- OK.

- Do I know?
- Yeah. No. I don't know.

- Do I?
- Don't... You sort it out.

Do I know?

Sort it out but don't tell me
because I don't want to know.

I don't think
you quite get it.
My life is in tatters.

Nobody will speak to me at my
daughter's school.
Why should I lie for Hugh?

Because it's your job
to make him look good.

What kind of a PR person
are you, anyway?

I mean, look.
Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Are you going to
take a bad story
and make it worse?

You say,
"Oh, hi there, everyone.

"I know this looks bad,
but wait till you hear this.

"It was actually the Minister
for Social
Affairs and Citizenship

"who called a child a cunt.

"There you are,
it is worse than we thought."

If you were to go out there
and tell the truth,

it would be morally repugnant.

Because you
would be condemning

a guy who's doing
his fucking best
to try and make things better.

You'd be condemning him
to the scrapheap.

(Terri) Right...
(Malcolm) OK?

- Yes.
- Good girl.
Get Robyn, she'll help you.

Robyn, can you help her
go over her lines?

It was interesting,
watching you
talking about the truth,

because I had
a similar problem today,
funnily enough.

Really?

At the Committee, I didn't...

Well, unwittingly, I didn't
tell the entire truth.

- You lied?
To Claire Ballentine?
- Yeah.

Does she know?

I don't think so.
She couldn't possibly.

That doesn't matter, then.

I lied to
the Select Committee.
It's like lying to the House.

Yeah, I know.
But if she doesn't know,
then it doesn't matter, Hugh.

Excuse me, but
I can't be fielding calls.

I have got a lot
of lines to learn.
It's Ballentine's office.

They want Departmental diaries
from the last 12 weeks.

- Shit!
- She's on to us, she must be.

- Why else...
- Have you got the diaries?

Yes, in a sense.

Olly might be doing something
with the diaries

I don't know about
because he hasn't told me.

Well, you get him to undo
what you don't
know he's doing.

I can't.
I don't know he's doing it.

Hugh, go and get
Olly and Glenn in here.

This is serious.
You have lied to
a Select Committee.

- I told you that.
- That's like
lying to the House.

- That's what I said.
- They're on to you!

Jesus Christ!

Malcolm, do you think
this is too bright?

It's too bright.

Can you please, Robyn,
go to the Sketchley concession

and get my grey suit? Now.

Do I look ten?
Do I look like I'm
on some bloody...

Please, just do it.
Get the suit.

- Can I have the money?
- Don't you get paid?

Have you got the diaries?

- Yes.
- I don't know.

- We've not shredded anything.
- I don't want to hear this.

Hugh, take your fingers
out of your fucking ears.

You're going to go
to the Committee tomorrow
and you're going to apologise.

I'll tell them I forgot.
Forgetting's an involuntary
thing. It's like farting.

(Rapping on glass)

(Terri) Malcolm!

- What?
- You were meant to
be dealing with me.

The worst that
can happen to you
is you'll lose your job.

- I'm going to
lose my reputation.
- Grow up.

- You should be
doing the growing up.
- I am a fucking grown-up.

- You could have fooled me!
- Glenn's son
could have fooled you.

No offence, Glenn.

You two get
the paper trail sorted
and get your story sorted out.

I'm sorry,
can you stop swearing?

I'm really sorry. You won't
hear any more
swearing from us,

you massive, gay shite!

Fuck off!

Right, how are you doing
in sorting out
whether he lied or not?

- Pretty well.
- Is that a lie?

- Yeah.
- That is not
fucking funny, you retard.

I'm sorry about that, Glenn.
The situation just...

Here she comes.

(Hugh) That fucking sofa!

I would like to offer
my sincere and
unreserved apologies

for the terrible outrage
caused by
the e-mail that I sent.

It was never meant to be read
by anybody other than
the intended recipient.

- I understand that the...
- Oh, for...

- What the hell's he...
- Twat!

..language I used
in the e-mail...

He doesn't realise that if you
walk in front of the camera...

..like that in an internal
departmental conversation,

or any conversation.

I wish I had
never sent the e-mail,

and indeed, I find it
hard to believe that I did.

Whoa,
she's gone off script here.

Fucking hell, Terri, what...?

..momentary
lapse in restraint...
and that...

- OK, we're back on track.
- Thank God.

..and I wish to apologise
that I've let down

the electorate, the minister,
my colleagues,

my own family...

(Glenn) Even though
half of them are dead.

..and indeed,
the voters of the future...

- Our children.
- ..our children.

Now get off.

Brilliant, Malcolm.
Fucking stunning.
Well done, mate.

OK, we've got to get upstairs

and start rehearsing for
tomorrow's Select Committee.

I'm never going to get out of
this fucking building, am I?

Do you remember when I came
to see Peter's
concert at his school?

His face? The pride
he had when he played?

- His face
etched in my memory.
- Yeah?

Fucking unbearable.

That's why I needed Malcolm's
expert to try and wipe
it from my mind.

- It hasn't
really worked, though.
- Hugh, mate, don't panic.

You'll manage. Just do what
you have to do. Whatever you
have to do, do it.

Just make sure that
you don't get sweat
on your upper lip.

It makes you look guilty.

- What am I supposed to do?
- I've no idea.

But if you sweat,
it makes your
face look like Spam.

It has come to
the Committee's notice

that you did not see
just one special adviser,

as you told us in your
previous appearance, but two.

Why did you omit to
mention that fact?

Yes, I apologise unreservedly
for that oversight.

- I forgot.
- Are you forgetful generally?

Well, it's hard to know...
erm...how forgetful one is.

You'd have to remember all the
things you'd
remembered and forgotten.

And how could I remember
what I've forgotten,

because I've forgotten it,
by definition?

I'm pretty good. If I see a
picture of the Queen,
I can put a name to a face.

And if I see a movie,
I don't sit there, going,

"Who's that one?
The copper or the pirate?"

So you just accidentally
told a slight untruth?

I... My statement
was unintentionally
not a truthful statement.

- I...I...I slightly misled...
- You completely misled.

I misled the Committee
and I have
apologised for that.

Are you lying now
about not lying before?

Erm...no. I am not a liar.

I categorically did not
knowingly...not
tell the truth.

Even though unknowingly
I might not have done.

I wanted to come back
and apologise to
the Committee...

Glad to be of service, but you
didn't want to
come back, Minister.

You were told to come back.

The last thing in the world
you wanted was to come back,

given how busy you have been.

Interestingly enough,
we do notice from your diaries

that your meeting
with Roy Smedley

seems to have taken place
at almost the same time

as the notorious
sweary e-mail was sent.

I was in that meeting,
so I couldn't
possibly have sent it.

I wasn't suggesting...
It was your
Chief Press Officer.

Yes, it was.
And her father's just died.

I'm sorry to hear that.
No one was suggesting...

No, no, and quite right, too.
But you know what
people are like.

Going back to my,
erm...initial concern,
it would now seem that

the two meetings you had with
the two special
education advisers

provided you with
two opposing verdicts
on this particular issue.

Yet you came up with one.

So would it be therefore
true to say
that the Government

is intent on pushing this
through regardless of
what anyone says?

No. We wanted two opinions
because we wanted
to start a debate.

Not much of
a debate if you ignore one
and just go with the other.

It's a personal thing, but
if government isn't personal,

then what the hell is it?

My senior adviser,
Glenn Cullen,

has a son, his name is Peter,

and he has special
educational needs.

Glenn obviously
wouldn't say
anything about it.

He's far too professional.

But I had the privilege of
going down with Glenn to
Peter's SEN school,

and watched Peter playing
the trombone in
the school orchestra.

It wasn't very good.

Erm... He struggled manfully.

And Glenn leaned over to me,
and he said,

you know, "If only
this was a Super School."

Inclusion is not an illusion.

And...

I think that tipped
the balance for me.

It's a personal thing.

(Glenn exhaling)

- Say something.
- Well, what is to say?

I can't believe you did that.

You said do
what you have to do.

I understand that,
and I know nothing is sacred.

- But I didn't mean
for you to do that.
- Were you misleading me?

- Don't give me that bollocks.
- I...I'm sorry.
OK? I'm really sorry.

Do you know, I wish
I'd kept Peter's trombone.

If I had,
I'd shove it up your arse,
wide end first.

Listen, you're
the best senior adviser
anybody could want, and...

Come on, you're my best pal.

- OK.
- So, am I...?

(Hugh) Hello.
Are you all right?

Very strong performance,
by the way,
the apology.

So you think you
can get round me
with compliments, do you?

I understand I'm not your
favourite
chocolate in the box,

but I appreciate everything,
and I will fight for you,

irrespective of what you did.

What I did? I didn't do it,
Hugh! Do you remember,
you sent the e-mail!

- I forgot.
- Forgot?

No, not forgot.

I can't get anything right at
the moment.
I'm going to go away.

Go to the gents. Look
at the man standing in front
of you in the mirror,

and say, "Can I live with him?
Can I?"

- You're in there.
- I don't know what
else can go wrong.

Unless the energy system
sets fire to my
office and puts it out

by squirting liquefied shit
through the sprinklers.

- Malcolm's coming this way.
- Oh, God.

Check out. Malcolm Tucker
is leaving the building.

Oh, right.

I want to say well done,
you slippery fuck.

You should be able to
weasel your way out

and come back smelling
like a perfumed trollop.

- Thank you.
- No problem.

Hey, I'm going to have
a swear box installed
on Monday, by the way.

- What?
- Fucking joking, you twat.

Right.

- I'm in turbo. Laters.
- Yeah.

(Malcolm) Oi!
How're you doing?

(Heavy sigh)

- Good night.
- Good night.