All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S03e01.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

Ed! Get Tom Rudd in. Now.

We're offering him
Northern Ireland,
the lucky sod.

I think he's expecting
to be offered Transport.

Well,
tell him he's taking the bus
to George Best airport, right?

He's making Paul Remington
a cabinet minister.

Remtard Remington.
I mean,
the guy is an epic fuck-up.

He's so dense
that light bends around him.

(CLAPS) Come on, people!
Let's get going here.

I've got a to-do list here

that's longer than
a fucking Leonard Cohen song.

-Remtard at Energy
and Climate Change.
-Really? I'm not getting that.

It's not on here.
How did you get that
about Remington?

Refresh the page.

Yeah. Ah, yeah. Oh, look!

Fatty's staying put.
They're not moving Fatty!

Yeah, well, that's because
they haven't got five big
blokes and a winch.

They couldn't
really demote Fatty
'cause he knows too much.

He doesn't know where
the Ryvita's kept, does he?

I've got this
reshuffle going on,

the Leamington Spa
by-election coming up...

I've got more on my plate
than a spinster at a wedding.

That wasn't a reference to
your daughter,
by the way, Andrew.

Well. That's Hugh gone, then.

-That's so sad, isn't it?
Hugh.
-GLENN: Yeah.

You don't give a shit.

No, well, perhaps I don't.

Northern Ireland office,
Tom Rudd.
Who's Tom Rudd? Tom Rudd?

Isn't he in Harry Potter?

Tom Rudd is army slang

-for standing-up buggery.
-OLLY: Right.

Doug, Doug, Dougie!
Look at you,

cock the size of
the Pink Panther's tail.

Come have a Kit Kat.

Uh, I'm afraid
I've turned it down,
Malcolm.

You know that 90%
of household dust
is made of dead human skin?

That's what you are. To me.

Doug Hayes is a massive
abortion. Again, not
a reference to your daughter.

We need somebody to plug
this DoSAC hole. Anybody.

A fucking mammal with a head.

Have you two finished
emptying your desks yet?

Yes, don't worry, Terri,
we're all ready to go.

I'm just trying to get
everything organised for
whenever whoever arrives.

They are going to
have their own people.

It's going to be very
embarrassing if your hand
cream's still in the drawer.

-Hand cream?
-Yeah,
well, whatever men have.

I don't know,
electric nose-hair
trimmers, Ex-Lax...

Aww, look at Glenn.
Your face...

On the scrapheap at
the tender age of 76?

It's no life for you,
is it, Glenn, this?

Hey, do you want
me to call Dignitas?

I could call Indignitas.

They could come round and
shove you out of the window
dressed as a clown.

Sam, Sam...

Get me Nicola Murray. Yeah.

If she says no,
well, I don't know,
the only other candidate

is my left bollock with
a fucking smiley
face drawn on it.

Ladies and gentlemen,
may I introduce
the new Secretary of State...

-Hello.
-...for the Department
of Social Affairs

-and Citizenship,
Nicola Murray.
-NICOLA: Thank you.

(CLAPPING)

I'm Nicola.
Lovely to meet you.

-Hello. Lovely to meet you.
-Hello, hi.

-Hello, I'm Glenn Cullen.
-Hello Ken.
How lovely to meet you.

These are just Hugh's, um,

-previous incumbents.
-Oh, okay.

-So, that's Ken and Olly?
-No, Glenn.

-Olly Reeder.
-Right.
Are you an Olly or an Oliver?

I'm whichever you prefer,
in fact.

Okay, well, Oliver.
I like the name Oliver.

Well, Olly. I don't know...

-Oh, you are an Olly.
-I don't know why I said that.

-Thank you.
-Good.

-I'm the ideas man.
-(MOBILE RINGING)

Sorry.
I've got to... Thank you.
Just need one second.

-Um...
-Yes, I know.

They just...
They frog-marched me into it.

I didn't know. I had no idea.

James, be fair!
I left seven
fucking messages for you.

Your secretary or
whoever is useless.

I don't think the school thing
is going to be a problem.

It's not going to be a problem
'cause they'll have
vetted me at Number 10.

And obviously nobody has
soiled themselves or shot me.

Great, well, I take your warm
congratulations as implied.

(SOFTLY) Fucking arsehole.

-You all right?
-Yes, it's all a bit crazy.

No, it just feels
like my head's made
entirely of smoke alarms

at the moment,
it's all a bit...

(BOTH LAUGHING)

Yes,
well, it was a bit of a shock
for us all, you know.

-I'm sure.
-In a good way, in a good way.

-Good.
-Well, like twins
or a tax rebate or...

Yes, let me
continue with the tour.

-That's such a nice chair.
-This was Glenn's office.

Is there any chance of getting
something like that?

TERRI:
Would you like me to have
it moved to your office?

NICOLA: That'd be great.
Can you do that?
Right. Olly...

-Ollie, that's right.
-Glenn and Olly,

what I need to know
from you, really, is

all the stuff that Terri's
not going to tell me.

-The stuff she's
gonna keep from me.
-GLENN: Huge list.

OLLY: Where the bodies
are buried.

NICOLA: Exactly. Yes,
the plague pits.

The, you know, big cardboard
boxes full of bits of
old junior minister.

I'll just go and sort out
that policy digest.

NICOLA: Lovely.

Urban renewal is a bit of
a running sore.

-In what way?
-Well,
it's very woolly and big.

Sounds like a mammoth.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Right. Okay, so, um...

um, my Big Thing...
Come in, actually.

Come into my office with
nowhere to sit
or put anything.

My primary focus
is social mobility.

-That's very
much my Big Thing.
-OLLY: Right.

I suppose I'm
telling you that, really,

partly to get your take on it
and also so that
you can, you know,

start spreading the news
and printing the posters.

And, you know, fire up
the turbo chargers,

set the phases to equality.
It's Murray time!

Well, the thing is,
and Olly, please,
correct me here if I'm wrong.

Oh, I will certainly do that.

Social mobility,
making people richer,
costs money.

OLLY: Yes, and we don't have
any of that, really.

Right.

If you speak to Nick at
the Treasury he
will tell you the same,

only with his annoying lisp.

What you're telling me is that
basically I'm
going to be a woman

with a computer and some pens?

-Well, it's just a pen budget.
-I mean I have
about as much real power

as those twats who sit on
either side of Alan Sugar?

Well... Yes.

Secretary of State, we have
got some clothes
for you to look at

-for a press photograph later.
-NICOLA: Oh!

We can continue this later,
maybe?

Yeah. Definitely. I'll come
find you.

-You're a size 16?
-I'm 12.

Oh, 12. I'm so sorry. Well,
I'll get those
changed right away.

At the moment I've
got nobody at all,

um, apart from
Hugh's guys, who are

just kind of so fucking
patronising and cold.

Seriously, one of them looks
exactly like he works in
menswear at Selfridges.

(CHUCKLES) I don't
know what the fuck
to say to him.

-Secretary of State?
-Yes?

-Your fruit salad.
-Ah, brilliant. Thank you.

Oh, I've just had
a couple of press calls.

A couple of
the papers asking about
your husband and the PFI.

Already? My God. They're so...
They're so on it.

-Aren't they?
-Could you brief me?

Yes, sorry.
It's honestly nothing.
James works for Albany,

which is
the company that was awarded
the PFI prisons contract

-by this department.
-Yes, I remember.

I know that sounds bad,
but actually
James wasn't at Albany

when
the contracts were awarded
and I wasn't here, so...

-Yeah, maybe, um...
-It's not
a conflict of interest, so...

I think you could just run
that by Malcolm.

-He's on his way.
-Not Malcolm. He's...

-What now? Coming in?
-Yes,
he'll be up in 25 seconds.

Okay. Fuck. Right.

So, Malcolm Tucker,
Malcolm Tucker,
Malcolm Tucker!

Malcolm... 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
come into contact with.

-Um, like a rat.
-No, he'd hate that.

He thinks of himself
as a sort of
thin white Mugabe.

Do you think?

Because if you are worried
about Malcolm, you know,

we have amassed a few tips

how to deal with him,
over the years.

We have worked out when
he's going to give
you a verbal colonic

and some, you know,
avoidance manoeuvres.

Tae kwon spin!

Is this the No.1
Ladies' Detective Agency?

Malcolm Tucker!
The real deal. Hello.

The real deal.
Good to see you.
You're looking great.

All right, Hinge and Bracket,
time to go and hang
up your lady-cocks.

Nicola Murray!
Here you are,
Secretary of State

for the Department of
Social Affairs
and Citizenship.

Yep, I now have one the of the
longest job titles in
Western politics.

Thank God I don't have to
wear a lapel badge.

It's a pity we couldn't just
make an abbreviation of it,
you know, like PFI.

Which I think stands for
Pretty Fucking Imbarrassing.

If you're a bit sloppy
about the details,

which clearly your
fucking husband is.

Okay, look.
James works for Albany, fine.

He wasn't even
working there when
the contract was awarded.

-Don't worry. That was just me
-Okay, right. Fine.

I mean,
that's the sort of thing
the press will throw at you.

I mean, you step out of line,
they'll be all over you.

Like a pigeon on a chip,
you know?
Is that your chair?

Oh, God, yeah.
It's cool, isn't it?
It's got lumbar support.

Bin it.

People don't like
their politicians
to be comfortable.

They don't like you having
expenses, they don't like
you being paid,

they'd rather you lived
in a fucking cave.

Okay, fine.
So,
what should I be sitting on?

Should I just get an
upturned KFC bucket?

Just a fucking normal chair.
Right?

Not a fucking
massive vibrating throne.

GLENN:
Malcolm must be hating this.

All these bright, fresh new
ministers to blood in and to
plan a by-election.

If it's any
consolation to you,
a little bit of you

will always be in this
department because she's
nabbed your chair.

Hasn't she?
She's got your chair,
and in fact your dandruff.

Ha, ha, ha. If I go,
that chair is coming with me.

You know those old men you see
who go to the park
to read the paper?

That'll be you.
You could go in your chair.

They'd make you
king of all the tramps.

So,
uh, you got three kids, yeah?

-I've got four. Yeah.
-Four?

Katie's 16, she's the eldest.
She's just left school.

Not going to a college,
to university?

-Uh, she's a bit of a rebel.
-What sort of a rebel?

I mean,
so what are we talking here?

Are we talking a pierced navel
or holidays at
Pakistani training camp?

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 career.

I'm sorry to disturb. Um...

-Morning, Malcolm.
-Morning, Terri.

Just wanted to give you
a few things here.

That's change
from the fruit salad.

This is this morning's paper.
Do excuse me.

I'm surprised that
you haven't vetted me,

I thought you'd
know about the kids.

It's just that
'cause you were just
a sort of, you were a bit of

-a late-ish kind
of appointment.
-Mmm.

That didn't quite give me
the time to, you know,

to fuck the I's
and fist the T's,
as Robert Robertson might say.

Sounds to me like that she's
only bringing in one
other person, so,

you know,
I wonder whether she might
keep one of us on permanently.

TERRI: Thank God I'm safe.

Gee,
we know you're safe, Terri!
How do we know you're safe?

We know you're safe because
you keep using
the word "safe",

like bloody Jim Bowen.

(AS BOWEN) Yeah,
you've got DoSAC,
that's safe.

Do you want to go for
the treasury, young lady?

Okay. Mrs Walton.

What about these other kids?
What ages are they?

They're 11, nine and five.

-11?
-Mmm-hmm.

So that's,
uh, secondary school?

No, she's still at primary,
state primary.

Lovely little school
with terrible SATS results,

but, you know, really good
kind of broad
demographic and steel band.

So, she will be going to a
secondary school,
what, in September?

Yeah, yeah. So, um...

I... I can see
where this is going.
Um, it's not an issue.

Great! If it's not an issue
I'll just fucking
toddle off, then.

I'll go and have
a nice relaxing
wee sleep under my duvet.

Probably won't even
have to tug myself off

'cause I'm so fucking
relaxed about that.

'Cause I know that there is
no fucking issue here. Right?

She's not going to
the comprehensive, Malcolm.

She's going to a local
independent school.

Jesus H fucking Corbett.

Do you honestly think...

Do you honestly believe that
as a minister you can
get away with that?

You are saying that all
your local state schools,

all the schools
that this government
has drastically improved

are knife-addled rape sheds,
and that's not a big story?

For fuck's sake!
Sort it or abort it!

Let's get this clear.
My family is off limits.
All right?

This job is not
going to get anywhere
near my husband and my kids.

-It just doesn't.
-Of course it fucking does.

As per the wee barcode and the
serial number under
your right armpit,

you are now built and
owned by the state.

And you are
under the spotlight
24 hours a day, darling!

You know what you are?

You're a fucking
human dartboard.

And Eric fucking
Bristow's on the oche
flinging a million darts

made of human
shit right at you.

Can you take that? Can you?

Okay, look.
You, the all-swearing eye.

You didn't even know how
many kids I had.
You had to ask me.

So who on earth
in the press is
going to even know or care?

Do you remember
The Big Breakfast?

-Remember that programme?
-Yes!

Remember how Chris Evans
started that? Do you remember
it was a big success?

And then they had that guy
Johnny Vaughan, remember him?

-Uh-huh.
-Everybody loved him.

Fuck knows why
but they loved him.
Do you know what this is here?

This here is fucking series 10
of The Big Breakfast.

And do you know what you are?
You're the fucking dinner lady

that they have asked to come
and present the show.

The reason I didn't know
about you and your children

is 'cause you were so low down

on the list of
candidates for this job,

I didn't even have the chance
to look into you.

So low.

Way, way,
way, way, way, way, way low.

You are now
being scrutinised for
what you wear, what you say.

For your hair, your shoes,

your fucking earrings,
your fucking
cleavage and your dress,

which,
by the way, is way too loud.

Too loud?

Yeah, I'm getting
fucking tinnitus here!

Look. Your crooked husband
I can make go away.

But your crooked
husband combined
with you being worried about

your underage daughter
coming home up the duff

from some truanting bastard,
I cannot.

She goes to the comp, okay?

Oh, God.

Um, you, Glenn, yes.
And or Olly. Terri!

-Just a quick update, really.
-How did it go?

It was all very positive,
we sort of
know where we all stand now.

The PFI thing you know about,
is not a problem,
Malcolm's fine.

Second little thing I've just
apprised Malcolm of

is that my 11-year-old
daughter will be going to
a private school.

Oh, for fuck's sake! Sorry.

Okay. It's a personal issue.
I'm not
Education Secretary so...

Nor will you be.

Secretary of State,
with respect,
this is political suicide.

All right.
Well, thank you very much
for your support, Glenn.

Perhaps I was hoping
there might be
a way around it.

Sorry, there is no way around
it, it's horrible.
It's a bit like Dover.

You know,
if you want to go to France,
you've got to go through it.

Well,
you don't have to go through
Dover to get to France.

You can go through Weymouth,
Portsmouth, there's plenty...

I don't want to go to Dover.
I don't want to go to
fucking Dover or France!

I just want my daughter to
be happy at school.

Great,
well that's good, that's,
that's excellent.

That's a super
message to send out,

shows you've got principles,
it's the kind of
thing you could be...

For fuck's sake, Olly,
there's no point

telling her just what
she wants to hear, is there?

NICOLA: So, Terri?

Uh, yes? I'm sorry
but personal
issues are not my brief.

Okay, thank you for that.

Um, the chair, the lumbar
chair, has to go in the skip,
Malcolm insisted.

-Oh, okay.
-Not now,
cause I've got work to do.

But if you can get somebody...

Apparently, if you have a
nice chair it turns you
into Saddam Hussein.

This entire building
smells of coleslaw.

Ah, so, first cabinet meeting.

-Yes.
-How do you feel?

Anxious? Nervous? Worried?

Well, she probably wasn't
until you said, "Anxious?
Nervous? Worried?"

Now you're
an advert for Tamazepam.

If I'm sick all over the
Foreign Secretary,
would that look bad?

No, Geoffrey Howe shat himself
on his first morning.

Olly, please!

Well, I find that kind of
tomfoolery very tiresome...

Sorry, Terri,
what's the driver's name?

It always makes
you look more human
if you know their name

-and I am human, so...
-It's Elvis.

-Seriously, what's his name?
-No, it's Elvis.

He's from the Ukraine,
you see.

And nobody can
pronounce the real name

so they call him Elvis
on account of the...

(MIMICS ELVIS) * Uh-huh-huh *

-What?
-Take a peek.

(EXHALING)

Hey, what's wrong with you?

You look like you've shat
a Lego garage or something.

Jim Lane's daughter is
standing as an independent
in Leamington Spa.

For fuck's sake.

Fuck! This is going to split
our vote.

Do you think we're
in trouble?

Maybe we should
have chosen her
over Liam Bentley.

No, she thinks just because
her dead
fat-arse dad was the MP,

that gives her the right
to be our candidate.
No, no, no.

This isn't tsarist Russia.
It's not
the fucking Dimblebys.

-What do we do?
-We send everyone up there

to support Liam Bentley,
including the Prime Minister.

You want to send Tom up there?

Yeah, fuck it, he'll be all
right as long as he
doesn't do the smile.

You hit the phones, right?

I'll be with you in two shakes
of a crying baby.

-Wow. Black widow.
-Malcolm.

Congratulations.
First cabinet.
I heard you wowed them.

The meeting's
literally just finished,
how would you know that?

PM texted me,
he's very impressed.

You could be nominated
for best newcomer.

-Really?
-No.

You knew Jim Lane, didn't you?
The dead fucker. God rest him.

Yeah, I did, a bit, back home.

Very sad, all those weeks
on life support.

-Nice chair.
-Sad?

What, lying on your back
getting fed
nutrients through a tube?

It's my idea of
a fucking holiday.

How would you like
to go to Leamington?

-When?
-This morning.

It's never too soon
to go to Leamington.

I've just taken
over a department,
I have a hell of a...

You've been asked by the PM
specifically to pop
along to Leamington

and do some photo
ops with Liam Bentley.

Supporting him, yeah?

-I don't really
have any choice, do I?
-Of course you have a choice.

You can decide exactly
how you say yes.

You can do it with a voice.
Have fun with it.

Yes. In my own voice.

I look forward to
toasting your success.

-Have a lovely time
in Leamington, yeah?
-Can I go?

Of course you can fucking go.

(SIGHS)

Jesus. Never easy.
Never fucking easy.

-Yeah, hi. Come in.
-Um, hi.

Um, yeah.

-Glenn.
-Glenn...

What do you think of Glenn?

(LAUGHS) Well, it's sort
of like asking what I think of
skirting boards?

I mean,
I assume that we need them
but I'm not really sure why.

I'm finding him
very old-school.

Well, yes.
Well, he's ancient-school,
really, Glenn.

I mean, he used to get his
packed lunch nicked by Plato,
he's an old...

So, um,
I'd like you to come up to
Leamington with me.

Oh, great, yeah.
Well, it's, uh...

It's my favourite
of the spa towns.

Erm, apart from
all the others, so...

Okay, lovely. So if you could
just get,
uh, Terri in, please.

Sure.

-Terri.
-Yeah?

-(PHONE RINGING)
-You're on.

What?

What were you
and Bravo Two Zero
talking about in there?

-Who?
-Her, you know. Her in there.

Bravo Two Zero.

Well, I don't know what
that means, Glenn.

Yes, you do.
No, I don't mean that.
I mean Juliet Bravo.

You've
completely lost me, Glenn.
I really...

Juliet Bravo!
She was a lady policeman.

(CHUCKLES) A lady...
A lady policeman?

Did the last 30
years not happen to you?

-What?
-Have you been asleep

in a box full of straw
like a Blue Petertortoise?

(MOCKINGLY) Lady policeman.

I've asked Olly to come up
to Leamington with me.

-Olly?
-Yeah.

I can't really
connect with Glenn.

(SIGHS) Um...

You think I
shouldn't have asked Olly?

-No, no, I didn't say that.
-You sort of did
with your face.

No, no. Olly has got plenty
of good points,
it's just he's...

Well, he's a little
bit morally bankrupt
and massively self-centred

and a tiny bit
dangerously unreliable.

But he has got
a lot of good points,
as I say.

Great, well, thank you.
Can you just send,
send Glenn in for me?

Glenn.
Nicola would like to see you.

(CLEARS THROAT)

-Hi, Glenn, take a seat.
-Oh, thank you.

-You ever worked
in retail, Glenn?
-No, never have.

Oh, just...

Um, so what do
you think of Terri?
Do you trust her?

-No.
-Right.

'Cause she just told me
she sort of
prefers you to Olly.

When I say I
don't trust her...

(CLEARS THROAT)

What I mean is
I don't trust
her around money.

Really?
Blimey, what, she steals?

No, no, no, no.
I'm not saying
anything like that.

'Cause actually I
got very little change
from my fruit salad so...

No, no, no.
Let me just row back
a little bit here.

Perhaps, um, all the way
to the boathouse.

Actually, I do trust Terri.

Okay.

-Your chair's gone.
-Oh, yes, yeah.

I had to bin it.
Malcolm insisted.

-But it was my chair.
-Oh, right, I... It was...

It was decadent, Glenn.
It was a chair gone mad.

Do you know where it's gone?

...Skip.

-Is this a...
-Skip.

I'm-I'm rea...
I'm sorry for your loss.

I paid £600 for that chair.

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

TERRI:
(ON PHONE) How's her hair?

Terri, you'll be delighted
to know that
the Secretary of State is now

checking her
hair in my glasses.

-You're on TV live.
-What, now?

You're on now, apparently.

TERRI:
Why are you squatting down?

GLENN: Ah, there she is.
Malcolm. Nicola will be
there in a minute.

No, you're in the shot,
actually, Olly.

Why am I in the shot?

-BENTLEY: Nicola Murray!
-Thank you.

Hi, everybody.
Well,
um, I'm very pleased to see

a number of
familiar faces here. Hello!

-Isn't she good
with the people?
-Yes, she is.

But then, so is Kate Thornton
and she's wanted
for war crimes.

Ladies and gentlemen, let's
take a look at Liam Bentley's
election poster.

REPORTER:
Mrs Murray, do you feel
your husband's involvement

in the PFI prisons contract
compromises your position?

Well, I'm just here
to support Liam Bentley.

REPORTER:
You don't feel there's
a conflict of interest?

No, I really don't.

-Excellent.
-She's handling this
very well, Malcolm.

Don't you think?

REPORTER:
Are you going to resign,
Minister?

GLENN: Oh shut up, you twat!

NICOLA: ...and I think
they're interested also

in greater
opportunities for social...

-Looking terrific, Olly.
-She's a little bit...

-What? Sorry?
-A little bit edgy.

TERRI:
Can you please make sure
Nicola's right in the middle?

She doesn't look
important enough.
Can you just move her over?

-Could you move for a second?
-Right here?

TERRI: Perfect! Perfect.

-That looks terrific.
-GLENN: No, no, no. No!

Jesus, Terri! The letters!

TERRI: That's great there.
GLENN:
What does it say, Terri?

-It says Liam Bentley.
-No, it doesn't.

Not there, it fucking doesn't!

PHOTOGRAPHER: Move back
where you were,
please, Nicola.

Uh, okay.

This is
obviously the hot spot.

TERRI:
Well okay, if you crop the...

GLENN: Of course,
if you crop. Malcolm!

You tried. You really tried.

-Did your best, mate.
-Very happy with it.

-You both did your best.
-Thanks.

PHOTOGRAPHER: Big smile!

Hi, darling.
Did you see
Mummy on the telly?

(LAUGHS) I know,
did I look funny?

It did, good boy.
It said, "I am bent."

-Have you, um...
-Yes.

TERRI: We're currently in
a no-commenting situation.

(ALL TALKING AT ONCE)

Is this now
official nuisance calling?

Great. Someone's just
sent me a YouTube clip

which is me, in front of
the "I am bent" sign

randomly intercut with bits
from Family Guy.

It's not even funny!
Why do people
fucking do that on YouTube?

Look, let's learn and grow
from this experience.

We can make a blacklist
of words you should never
stand in front of,

in case the press get to do
something like that.

-Peacock.
-Peacock, of course.

Shuttlecock. Spatchcock.
Anything cock, really.

Do you remember that
folk singer, Tim Hardin?

Well, you'd be able to get
"I'm hard" out of that.

Coarse fishing, that could be
"arse fish" if you crop that.

And walkie-talkie could be
cropped to say alkie, twice.

There are no walkie-talkie...

Why would I stand in front
of a walkie-talkie sign?

Malkie-Malkie.

Well, you know,
Howard, she's not bent,

neither 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 pissbag.

Oh, hey, Yoko Ono and the two
remaining Beatles, piss off.

Right.
Any chance we could just
skip over the usual abuse bit

and move on to the part
where we sort this out?

Yeah.
You need to make a decision.

Are you still going ahead with
the private school?
Because if you are,

we need to draft a statement
saying that your husband
is leaving his job.

Are you taking the piss?

You're expecting me
to choose between

fucking up my daughter's life
and fucking up
my husband's life?

-Yeah.
-So I just have to
choose between them,

like they're on some fucking
cosmic dessert trolley?

Listen, darling, I can't fight
on two fronts, you know?

If the press run with both
these stories,
you're fucking dead.

You set this up, didn't you?

-What?
-To put me in my place?

Or get back at me
for ignoring your advice?

Or some other
weird perceived slight
that doesn't in any way merit

this massive
fucking out-of-proportion
Israeli-style response.

You don't realise, I'm your
fucking fairy godfather,
right?

-Jesus. God help me.
-I'm your fairy
fucking godfather.

But I haven't got a magic wand
that I can wave about,

I've got a fucking Blackberry
and a chiv.

You've got a decision to make,
you make it.
Talk to you later.

Malcolm.
Sorry, can we just carry on
talking about that thing?

Was it you who
positioned me there?

Do you know
what the first sign
of madness is? Paranoia.

Have you seen that film,
you know, A Beautiful Mind?

The one with
that Russell Crowe.

The one with the maths guy
who thinks that the CIA

are working away in a shed at
the bottom of his garden.
That's you.

No. I am not the mad one here.

You are the mad one.
You're Russell Crowe.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
You are Russell Crowe.

And you need to fucking
listen to me, Russell,

you fucking Antipodean
fucking
kangaroo-loving fruitcake.

See, this poster stuff?
That's fucking small fry.

That's fucking whitebait,
Russ, me old cobber.

The really horrible stuff,

that's all still about to
happen to you, right?

Right, you're coming in here
so we can carry this on?

-What, now?
-If you can spare the time.

Uh, no.

I... No.
I can't... I don't use lifts,
I'm claustrophobic.

(LIFT BELL DINGING)

-You're what?
-Not hugely.

I can be in rooms, you've seen
that. I just don't do lifts,
that's all.

But this lift is...
I mean, it's fucking huge!

I mean, this is bigger than
some rooms, this is bigger
than some people's flats.

-It's about not
being able to get out.
-Oh, well, that's great.

That's fucking great.
That's another
fucking thing right there.

Not only have you got
a fucking bent husband and
a fucking daughter

that gets taken to school
on a fucking sedan chair,

you're also fucking mental.

Jesus Christ. See, you,

you are
a fucking omni-shambles,
that's what you are.

You're like that
coffee machine,
you know,

"From bean to cup,
you fuck up."

-He so is Russell Crowe.
-TERRI: Who?

Nicola, I did want
to tell you that I...

I did try to get a message
through to Olly...

-I know.
-I've been doing this,

you know, a long time now.
By which I mean, you know,

in an experienced,
firm-hand-on-the-tiller
sort of way.

Not in a,
you know, clapped-out,
over-the-hill kind of way.

-Yeah, I know.
-I've learnt to look out

for these sort of things and
I have developed a kind of

sonar for them now,
like a bat.

Glenn, do you want to...

Do you want to maybe stay on?
I could use that sonar.

-Batty man.
-Right!

Uh, forgive me. I think that's
Jamaican slang
for "homosexual".

Yes, I was thinking that
as I said it,
I'm really sorry.

-I didn't...
-No, no, no, no.

-Right.
-Okay.

(SMIRKS)

NICOLA: I'm on my way down.
See you by
the front door, Elvis.

-Have you decided?
-Oh, shit.

Yes, Malcolm, you know I have.

I decided the minute
you told me I had to decide.

-I'm going to
change Ella's schools.
-Good for you.

Listen, I'm going to try
and get your social
mobility thing moving.

I talked to the Chancellor.

I'm gonna really keep banging
away at it, you know,

like Charles Hawtrey
on a sleeping guardsman.

Okay. I mean, she's...

-She's very bright, so...
-Yeah?

They say if you're very bright

then it sort of doesn't matter
what school you go to.

That's true.

That is very true. Hey!

See you later, state educator.

GLENN: It's a highly expensive
lumbar support chair,
for God's sake.

Oh, don't be ridiculous.
I mean,
that's paper recycling,

it's not going to
be there, is it?

I'm going to call
you in the morning

and if you're not there,
you're in big trouble.

Glenn,

see this Dickensian hysteric
who's just gone home?

Here's what you do, right?

You make like
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.

You want me to pass
information to you?

Don't kill yourself, though.
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 you?

Then we'll all get some
fucking peace around here!

Right!
I'm away to wipe my arse
on pictures of Nick Robinson.

I'm getting good.
I can give him a quiff.