All language subtitles for The.Thick.Of.It.S03e02.1080p.Web.H264-Poppycock_track3_[eng]

I'm very sorry
I woke everybody up, James.

Well, we could always
give the kids earplugs,
you know,

or sedate them.
Maybe a bit of
friendly heavy sedation.

Oh, bollocks!
"First in the Sack race."

And they've
capitalised "sack",

just in case anybody thought
it was a piece about what
a good sack-racer I am.

(CAR DOOR OPENING)

-Look!
-Gotta go,
I am being car-jacked.

-By a Jock. Car-jocked.
-I'm actually very happy

with my
broadband provider, yeah.

There were other meetings
round about that time

and I need to
see all of those.

Glenn, can you put
stuff with staples
through a shredder?

No!

TERRI: Yes you can,
it does credit cards.

Who is going to break the news
to Nicola?

I'm going to do that
and I'm going to do it alone.

I'm just going to give her
the pre-briefing, right?

I'm just gonna blind her
with bad press and bumph.
You do the...

GLENN: Yes.
TERRI: No, no.

-GLENN:
The full crock of shit.
-Back of the neck.

You've seen
the sack race thing,
I suppose. Yeah, there it is.

It's not funny! It's not
even accurate, because
technically I was fourth.

So, really,
they should have said,
"Fourth in the Sack race."

I think we should
complain to the PCC.

Look, stop worrying. The PM
is not going to
sack you after a week.

Sacked after 12 months,
looks like you've fucked up.

Sacked after a week,
looks like he's fucked up.

And I'm not
doing terribly, am I?

I love the way that they've
sandblasted everything
around here. It's so clean!

TERRI:
Robyn, you've got no time
to shred those.

Please take them
to the lavatory
or something.

-Glenn.
-ROBYN:
Did she just say take them

-to the lavatory?
-Are you going to
stand there like that?

-BOTH: Yes!
-You look like
the end of a wedding.

-Are you going to
give her an arch?
-Just go and get her!

She'll never guess
there's anything wrong.
Fucking idiot.

I'd just like
people to get to know
the real me.

You know, I feel like
I'm coming across as a bit...

Oh, I don't know.

-Glum.
-Smug?

-Smug?
-Yeah, you're coming across

more smug than glum.

'Cause I am actually
quite a fun person,
underneath all of this.

I've got loads of friends.

Well, I'm sure you have,

but the trouble is
when you say
something like that,

it sounds a wee bit smug.

MALCOLM:
Could you just pull in
over here?

And you can take
out that cyclist
as you're going,

I think he's Shadow Cabinet.

(WHISPERING APOLOGETICALLY)

Could you meet me
at the door tomorrow?

-Oh, sorry.
-It's like
carrying two fridges in.

Yes, of course. Yes...

Right, so the lunch,
I've gone with
the Guardianin the end,

I thought maybe not The Mail,
they might be
nice to your face

but then brand you
a man-hating Euro-slag.

Olly, if you had to choose
three nasty adjectives

that describe me,
what would they be?

-I'm sorry?
-Well,
I was just talking to Malcolm

and he mentioned a pejorative
word which I hadn't
thought of before,

so I'm just keen
to get your take.

-Okay, top three?
-Yeah.

Um...

Sour?

Oh, okay.

Frumpy. And...

uptight?

Yeah, okay.

NICOLA: I mean,
why not egg and spoon?

Egg and spoon would
have been better than sack.

Yeah but, you know.
"Egg on face."

"She must go spooner
rather than later."

What if you'd dropped it?
"Yolk-o Oh-no." You know...

-Morning.
-Secretary of State.

-Yes?
-Something
terrible has happened.

Oh, lovely, Terri.
Beautifully finessed.

-What?
-It's my duty to advise you

of appendix four of
the Data Protection Act's

advisory note to
government departments.

Sounds like
you're arresting me.
Appendix what?

Shut it.
We'll ask
the questions here, ma'am.

I was being a policewoman?

Look, somebody explain to me
in simple terms
what has happened.

'Cause at the moment I feel
a bit like I've wandered into
a cryptic crossword

compiled by
Rumpel-fucking-stiltskin.

Basically,
every British citizen

who has arrived here
in the last seven
and a half months...

(CLEARING THROAT)

Their names have been wiped.

The immigration
database is blank.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.
This is a fucking disaster.

Well, the last hope was that
Olly had it on that thing...

-What, a memory stick.
-Stick.

Well, I only said it
just 'cause you looked like
you were gonna self-harm.

I mean,
they've got to be somewhere,
surely.

Yeah, well, they're not
actually in that drawer.

I'm getting Nurofen, Terri.

Do you not back up,
you people?
I back up!

I don't even know
what backing up means.

I really thought that today
we were going to start
the fight back, you know?

And it looks as though
we've started the fight back
by beating ourselves up

and poking out our eyeballs
with our own fucking teeth.
Jesus!

Right. Who, primarily,
should I be shouting at?

(ALL MUMBLING) Glenn.

Oh, thank you very much!

I have here the minutes
which are a record and...

No, no, no. You can't just
over-write minutes.

You specifically can't do it,
cause you can't
unlock a pdf file.

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

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

And I'm going to tell you
something interesting.

Unless you take
the hard drive,
smash it up with a hammer

or you drop it in acid,
that data is still going
to be retrievable

and that...
It says so on the BBC website.

I need a shortlist of people
who are responsible.

Glenn,
will you bring me a shortlist

-with your own name on it?
-Right.

Malcolm's on his way over.

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

Does he know?

I don't think so,
do you want me to go and ask?

-No, don't ask him!
-Jesus fucking Christ.

Right, we need to cancel
the Guardianlunch.

-ALL: No, no, no.
-No.
That would be a ridiculous

-signal to do.
-Wrong message.

That's the kind of signal
that a dying whale
sends out, isn't it?

(IMITATING WHALE) "Noooo!

"We lost
the immigration figures!"
sort of a signal.

Would you all please
just fuck out of my office?

-For a long time.
-TERRI: Very good.

Got you a croissant.

Morning, desk jockeys.
Is glummy mummy in?

OLLY:
I think she's on the phone?

Oh, right-o.
Why don't I just
cool my heels here?

-Good morning, Malcolm.
-Good morning.

Do you know, Malcolm?

Uh, the best way to
clear a paper jam?

I don't know.

Kill a kid an hour
until it sorts itself out?

Excellent. Hi, Malcolm.

Great. So if you can just
sort out the sack race
situation for me,

that would be terrific.

Yeah, yeah, what would you
like me to do on that?

Ideally, build a time machine

so that we can go back
and not invite photographers
to the sports day.

If I fail to
build a time machine?

Just sit on it, really, Terri.
You know, stop it growing.

-ROBYN: Zap it like a tumour.
-Thank you, yes.

So, Malcolm...

Oh, oh, oh.
Incoming body parts.
Excuse me.

Look,
if this has got any bigger,

you're gonna feel the thump
of a fucking
harpoon in your thorax.

Does he know?
Well, follow him.

MALCOLM: I hope that you
like shitting toenails,

because that's
what you're gonna be
doing all of next week.

And don't worry,
I've painted them yellow

so they'll look like
fucking sweet corn.

The guy's a fucking liability!

(SOFTLY) Jesus Christ.
Listen, I want...

Look,
I couldn't hear everything,
he takes very long strides...

What,
are you a fucking penguin?
Just run.

Look, I'm a civil servant,
not a fucking Olympic athlete!

Right. What's occurring,
Hermann Goering?

What?

You're fucking kidding me.

Excuse me.

Two minutes and
I will be back.

I'm fucking okay
for bollocks, mate.

That's it. He knows.

-Do you want me to
follow him again?
-Yes. Yes, no. Yes.

I'm Secretary of State.
Yes! Yes!
Do what I say.

How's that list going?
Are we covered,
Glenn? Who's on the list?

-It's not a big list.
-Well,
get going on the bloody list!

Hi, Robyn! Hey, look.

Um... You know Phil Davis?
Is he a Davies or a Davis?

I know you don't
like me, Glenn,
but you're not sacking me.

What?

(BOTH LAUGHING FALSELY)

I'm protecting you.

Okay, well, you know,
I've got your back as well.

Even though I know you are
the guy who authorised
the wiping of the back-up.

-Well,
that may or may not be true.
-Well, it is true.

-Well,
it may or it may not be true.
-Well, that is true.

(FALSE LAUGHTER)

Benefit of
a short-term strategy is

it allows you to develop
a long-term strategy...

-Explain it to them.
-We've just been discussing

the data loss incident and...

Can we not call it
the incident? It just sounds
like a toxic spillage.

Kerfuffle?

How's the time
machine coming along,
Terri?

Have you managed
to find a flux capacitor yet?

Well,
I had to come fetch Glenn...

It was a joke,
it doesn't matter.

I was thinking that
one possible strategy might be
not to tell anybody.

What, we keep it a secret?

Sorry,
sorry, Malcolm's coming back.

Tell me more about
not saying anything.

Well,
it's pretty self-explanatory.

-Or not?
-Robyn,

maybe you could
get us some teas.

Okay, what does everybody
want? I'll make a little list,
shall I, Glenn?

TERRI: A cappuccino, please.

NICOLA: A herbal, please,
a Lemon Zinger.

-ROBYN: Really?
-Yes, please.

(IN GRUFF VOICE)
Little pigs. Little pigs.

Let me come in. Don't worry
about the hair on
your chinny-chin-chin.

So, what was your call?

What was my call?

Did you...

You want to know
what my call was?

(CLEARING THROAT)
Was it important?

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 1-1-Hate.

NICOLA: Malcolm, do you know?

-Obviously he knows.
-No, he doesn't know.

There has been
a massive
irretrievable data loss.

The last seven months' worth
of new immigrant
details have gone,

apparently lost
in the computer.

Oh...

Do you know what? Do you know
what's really fucking sad here

is that I don't
even have the energy
to pretend I already knew.

Which is for the best, because
I'm gonna need all
of my fucking energy

to fucking rip all of your
bodies to bits with my bare
hands and sell off...

Yes, sell off your
fucking flayed skin
as a sleeping bag

to a fucking normal person!

Can I just say that
getting angry actually isn't
going to 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.

So,
what is your great strategy
for dealing with this?

Come on, I'm fucking all ears.
I'm fucking Andrew Marr here.

So, let's...
Terri, let's hear what you...

Let's go, let's get going.

High-level
tactical discussion,
I'm up for it.

Right, blaming the department
minister might be
a high-risk strategy.

Oh, high-risk.
Saucy. Power serve.

My pitch would be
this department
is fatally flawed.

It's out of condition,
it's obese,
it's asthmatic.

That-a-girl,
back over the net.

You need to be really sure
about that, Nicola.

Yes, wise words from
the distinguished, elderly,
gay fucking tennis coach here.

Seriously, I think
we should talk about
my strategy further

because I really think that
that's the way...

Yeah, the fucking wee ball boy
is having a go now

with his wee
fucking tiny shorts on.

What about Sue Barker's
little sister here?

What's she got to say?

You got something to say
to add to the conversation?

No, just that there was
no lemon zinger so this
is coffee, is that all right?

Do the Guardian
know about this?

Oh, fuck. I don't...
Fucking Guardian,
I don't know.

Yeah, as it's referred to
in my department.

Should I find out?
Get some feelers?

Yeah, go on,
get your feelers
out for the lads.

What do you think, Malcolm?

Shitting on the department,
will that work?

Yes, let's cause
a little bit of friction.

Let's fire someone.
What about Glenn?

No, you can't just
fire Glenn like that.

NICOLA: We could fire Glenn.
TERRI: Shall I get his file?

GLENN: No. I've got a list!

See, there you are,
he's got a list.

You're a new broom,
you're sweeping up
trouble with one end

broom-handling
incompetent staff
up the tunnel with the other.

So, Malcolm,
how do we play it
at the Guardian?

Smile.
Be gay. Smile, smile, smile.

So, who's going to be there?

Oh, plenty.
There's gonna
be all the hacks.

There's the editor,
the leader writer,
all the political staff

and actually, unfortunately,
I heard that

that so-called cartoonist
is going to be there.

You know, the one who drew
the picture of you smothering
the dove of peace

with your breasts?

For no apparent reason.

Do you want to run
any policy stuff,
any lines?

You know,
things you might want to say?

Look, what about the
plastic versus
wooden toys thing?

Oh, God, no, no, no.
That was absolute 4 a.m.
stuff,

that was to be filed away
with Community
Support Parkkeepers.

Complete
top-of-the-head stuff. No, no.

No, I think this is just
about showing the real Nicola.

Operation Not Smug, Not Glum.

Well, I'm told this lunch
is on the fifth floor, so...

It's taking a while, I mean,
maybe we should...
We should just walk.

I'm not walking
to the fifth floor.

I would actually like
to be able to speak by
the time we get up there.

(LIFT DINGING)

No, look, if I go in the lift,

I become convinced
I'm going to die,
so I'm going to walk.

I'm sorry.
Claustrophobic. I'm sorry.

And just check that
for the duration of the lunch

we are all off the record,
yes?

I mean,
but we're happy to be on.

No, off is best.

It's a bit like
when the snooker
comes on, on the telly,

you know, you just...
Off. Off.

Off.

How's it going with her?
How are you finding her?

-Nicola?
-Mmm-hmm.

Very, um...

good. Er - fun.

(ALL EXCLAIMING IN GREETING)

Hello. Nicola Murray.
Hello. Nicola Murray.

Nicola... Oh, this is
all formal, isn't it?
I need to lighten up.

Yeah, I like to use the stairs
sometimes to,

you know,
just a bit of a laugh.

Right, so, well done,
bit of a baptism
of fire, first week.

The whole "I am bent" thing,
the sack race stuff.

Oh, God, yeah, I know.
That was annoying.

-MALE REPORTER: Yeah.
-And hilarious.

FEMALE REPORTER:
Annoying and hilarious?

Yeah,
you know, like Russell Brand.

You wanna hate him,
but he's just funny.

(ALL LAUGHING)

It's like, well, um,
the current problems.

(HESITATINGLY) Which problems
in particular?

Just asking,
we're off the record.

I'm not playing
any games with you,

I'm not tobogganing you,
anything like that.

Well, it's only been a week.

A lot of data
to keep on top of
at DoSAC, I imagine?

Oh, there really is.
Or are. Is? Are?

Data. Don't know. Plural?

Come on, you're the Guardian.
I don't know,
it's a minefield.

We do very much
keep on top of it.
Or them.

The datas.
That's a very important part
of what we do.

And um,
we back up everything...

All... All the time.

MALCOLM: Afternoon, ladies.

I heard there were sandwiches
and I'm a fucker for cress.

No,
no, no, please don't get up,
I'm not Viagra.

-Jeffrey. Good to see you.
-Always a pleasure.

John, how you doing?
I just want to tell you, I
really enjoyed your novel...

Oh, thank you very much.

...way of writing
a fucking awful story.
Joking, joking!

So!

Eh? Eh?

She's not smug.
She's not sour, is she?

Thanks, Malcolm.

See, what it is,
is these bastards,
the other bastards,

they are selling
her as smug and sour.
You know why that is?

'Cause she's a proper person.

With dyed roots
and stretch marks.

She's not one of
these arseholes
that goes on The One Show,

fucking laughing
their heads off

about the fucking Apprentice
or whatever it is.

She's ordinary.
And they can't handle that.
Yeah?

But that's why
we need you guys,
the good guys, on side.

I mean, they've certainly
gotta get through you.

You couldn't be any closer.

Oh, ta, I'll come
a bit closer to you.

No, no. That's enough, thanks.

Yeah, I don't wanna
do that, you know.

Not with the old
wandering hand syndrome
that you've got.

You managed to
patch it up with her?

Well, not now.
Not now, Malcolm, thanks.

You're still
sleeping in the car, yeah?

Sorry, Nicola. We talked about
immigration,
what's going to happen

when there is the next
inevitable
immigration foul-up,

how is that going to work?

Look,
she's been in the job a week.
Right?

The department's shit,
they're fucking shit!

She's working her fucking lady
bollocks off, trying to get
things done in there.

She's really doing all right.
All right?

Fuck's sake.

Well, a week
is a short time in politics.

I think as a rule,
I will be very happy
to come and talk policy.

Fantastic. That's great.
What's a trademark
Nicola Murray policy?

Well, there's the...
the wooden toys thing.

JEFFREY: Brilliant.
NICOLA:
Yeah, I mean it really is.

We're knocking about
some ideas about plastics.

I'm aware that
my kids' toy box
is full of plastic

and they have very few of
the little
wooden toys, you know,

that would have been
traditionally played with by
their forefathers

and fore...mothers.
It's a big family.

Uh, and...plastics sometimes
contain carcinogens so...

The first step, I think,
is going to be probably
trying to decarcinogenosise

toys.

You know,
mass decarcino-genocide.

The simple
message here would be,

let's get back to wood.

Simple wooden toys, um,
for simple. People.

Children.
It's very early days.

And obviously, we will
tighten that up a bit.

So. Good?

Good. Good.

-Good.
-Fine. Yeah.

Good, good.

Funny old
department to come into,
isn't it?

You know, obviously you've
shied away from talking about
it a bit in there,

but immigration,
is that all sorted now?

Right, we weren't sure
whether you knew or not but...

Yeah, that's DoSAC.

You say that,
I had no idea when I came in

that we were
just haemorrhaging
citizenship data.

-Haemorrhaging?
-Yeah, it's
the last six months' worth.

-God!
-Did you...
How... Did you know?

Well, we do now.

Well, thank God
we're off the record.

Bye-bye,
John, lovely to meet you.

Sorry, bye-bye.
It was nice to...
I didn't catch your name.

-Oh, it's Marianne, actually.
-Marianne. Right. Yeah.

So you were at the lunch,
weren't you?

Um... No, no, actually
I'm freelance, I'm just doing
some feature shifts.

Sorry. Uh, Marianne...

You were behind us just now
coming down the stairs,
weren't you?

So, you heard
what we were
talking about and...

-Yeah.
-But we were off the record,

-so that's...
-Well,

it's very nice to
meet you, anyway.

Shit. Shit!

Come on. Hey,
French Lieutenant's woman,
we're over here. Come on!

What are you doing,
marking out your territory?

Welcome to the mothership.

I just... I need some air.
Olly, can you come with me?

Open the door!
Come with me now.

MALCOLM:
A post-match puker, is she?

-Come on!
-What? What is it?

Look over there,
there's a woman, red hair,
young woman on the phone.

-Yeah.
-She was behind
me on the stairs,

I thought she was
off the record, she was
actually on the record.

So I need you to
go over there now,

take whatever
was on the record
off the record.

What is it?
What was on the record?

It doesn't matter.
Don't be thick for once.

I'm not being thick.
You're not giving
me enough words.

Say whatever it was is
off the record. Go, now, run,
run, run! Marianne.

All right!
I don't know what she said.

(SIGHING) Yep.

I'm going to
miss my wine tasting
again tonight.

I expect you're probably
just more of
a single-malt man.

I mean, I quite like a...

Look,
for fuck's sake, we both know
I've got Blackberrys to check.

Marianne,
I'm not threatening you,
but...

What?

Well, like I say,
I'm not threatening you.

Yeah, well, usually the phrase
"I'm not
threatening you but..."

is followed by a threat.

I'm sorry,
Malcolm, I'm really sorry.

Fuck's sake! Jesus! Christ!

Well, now we've got
another fucking adjective

to add to
fucking smug and glum,
haven't we?

Fucking retarded!

Jesus... Do you not think
it would be germane

to check who
you're talking to?

It's a fucking
newspaper office!

It's not a fucking sanatorium
for the fucking deaf, is it?

Are you so dense?

Am I going to
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'll
probably confuse you
as well, won't it?

That'll be too confusing.

You'll see the cross and go,
"Oh, fuck, X marks the spot.

"Better tell
this little person
all about the Prime Minister's

"fucking catastrophic
erectile dysfunction!"

Oh, but not to worry.
Not to worry.

You've sent
fucking Olly over there
to deal with it.

-(NICOLA STAMMERING)
-Fucking Olly!

He's a fucking...
He's a fucking
knitted scarf, that twat.

He's a fucking balaclava!

Well, you're on very shaky
legal ground there.

No, I'm really not.
How am I? Oh.

Look, the department's
not fit for purpose, really.

-No, it's not.
-I mean,
Terri's quite bad and...

Not just Terri. I mean,
I'm not going to
name names but Robyn,

-Robyn's shit. Total shit.
-Robyn, she's total shit.

All right, Morph. Fuck off.

I'm sure that we
can settle this matter
of you eavesdropping

on a private conversation.

It was a public conversation.

No, you are...
You think you're so clever

and you are so totally wanking
with the wrong crowd here

because this man, right?

(HURRIED WHISPERS)

This man is the press.

I misspoke and
I mis-saw you...

-Nicola!
-Fuck... What have I done?

Right, so do you think that
this is going to
advance your career?

Is this you moving forward?

At least my career
has got a trajectory,

whereas yours is
about to crash head-on
into a change of government.

Don't you worry, girl,
because I can
still fucking steer

some fucking flaming wreckage
right in your
fucking direction.

Yeah, I tell you what. Once
it's printed I promise I'll
come back to you

for a reaction quote.
How's that?

Darling, I wouldn't
fucking piss on you

if you were fucking
allergic to piss, right?

-On you go. Walk the walk.
-Quite enough
for me for one day.

-Thank you.
-Walk the walk.
Fuck right off. Go on.

We'll live
though this, won't we?

Nicola,
I've got the list ready
whenever you're ready.

I'm ready now, actually. Yeah.

I can do it in reverse order
if you like.
Like the pop charts.

-Oh, how was Meet The Press?
-It was not great.

They didn't know
about the data loss,
they do now.

Okay, well,
that's not too bad, though,
off the record.

They can't use any of it.

No, I was ambushed
by a not-off-the-record
journalist.

-Never mind.
-Oh, fuck!

All right, from now on,
none of us let her
out of our sight.

She's not to be trusted.
Sorry, Minister.

-Terri.
-Yes?

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?

-No, I'd already
pressed the button.
-GLENN: Absolutely.

However, it was supposed
to be on Olly's stick,

so he is
the last man standing.

Hey! Hey! Hey! At least I know
how to use a stick, Mr Floppy.

Have you finished?

Well, no, I imagine I'm
gonna have to be doing it
over and over again

until you go on
the fucking course.

Okay, let's call a truce.

Let's agree that
nobody in this room
is going to be sacked, okay?

-For now.
-I've still got
the original list here.

Okay, let's start with that.

Top of the list
is Kelly Peters.

-TERRI: No.
-Why not?

She's a very nice girl,
Kelly Peters.

I mean, she's very kind.
She often lends me hardbacks.

-Terri,
The Mailis on the phone.
-NICOLA: Christ.

Don't worry.
I'll deal with it.
I'll deal with it.

(SIGHING) Um, Robyn.

-OLLY: Yeah.
-What? No, no, no, no.

Absolutely... There are
too many implications,
we just simply cannot

go with the idea of
sacking Robyn, okay?

Are you sleeping with her?

What? No!

Although every
time he does see her
in his head he just hears...

(SCATTING PORN VIDEO MUSIC)

-Olly!
-It just seems to me

that all we'd be losing
if we got rid of Robyn

is somebody who makes
a weak cup of tea, you know.
I don't think we've...

(MOBILE PHONE RINGING)

Shit, Malcolm. Hello?

Get over here. Now.

Might be advisable
to wear brown trousers

and a shirt
the colour of blood.

-Fuck.
-GLENN: Has he run off?
He does that.

Yeah, it's all just gone
really HBO. I've got to go
to Number 10 now.

What, now?

Need my coat and one of...
And you, Terri.

-What? Really?
-I need my right...
Oh, fuck, shoes.

-You want me to
come with you, too?
-Yes.

-Shit.
-Okay. Right, we're off.

I'm actually wondering whether
to take...
No, I can't take the lift.

I just wanted to say to you
by way of introductory remarks

that I'm extremely miffed
about today's events.

And in my quest to try
and make you understand
the level of my unhappiness,

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.

I could actually do without
the theatrics,
I think, Malcolm.

Enough! E-fucking-nough.

You need to learn
to shut your fucking cave.
Right?

Today, you have laid
your first big fat
egg of solid fuck.

You took the data
loss media strategy

and you ate it with
a lump of E. coli.

And then you sprayed it
out of your arse at 300 mph.

I simply made a mistake.

You got on the record
and off the record
fucking mixed up!

What would have happened
if like George
Martin had done that?

We'd have no fucking Beatles,
that's what.

Now, I don't give
a fuck about that.

I've had to fucking sit next
to Paul McCartney
at fucking Chequers.

The data loss wasn't my fault.

Fine,
yeah, but I tell you what.

It came out fucking 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."

You said yourself that
if he sacks me after a week

it looks like he's fucked up.

Yeah, but that was before,

when your only problem was
a fucking shit
pun in a newspaper

and a face like Dot Cotton
licking piss off a nettle.

Okay, I messed up, right?
I messed up.

But I will from now on listen
to every bit of
advice you give me.

Yeah, I'll go on Question Time
wearing
a push-up bra and a fez.

Yeah, I'll do the hustings
on stilts if that is 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
I want to do, all right?

Of course you do,
like Montessori fucking
rocking horses, I suppose.

No, no.

The Mailhave the motherlode
on this, right?

So that means that
there is a way
through this for us

but it entails you, my dear,

eating
a complete concrete mixer
full of humble pie.

Right, what's the strategy?

The Kraken awakes.

No, no. It's just that...
I mean, this is the first
bit of the meeting

that hasn't been about
expletives and fezzes and
stilts and teabagging.

I mean, this is the bit that
relates to media management.

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

Not really, no.
I'm told it's unpleasant.

-Who do you want me to call?
-The Mail.Get The Mailin.

Right, okay, come on.
The Cheeky Girls,
that's it, back on tour.

(SIGHING)

-Yeah, I love you work.
-(WHISPERING) Teabagging?

Yes, this is
Marianne from The Mail.

Glenn, I've told you
who I want you to fire.

I need you to do it, not me,
because I'm relatively
popular around here

and frankly,
you've got nothing to lose.

(CLEARING THROAT)

Well, this is it, Robyn,
this is me, true to my word.

Andrew, mate, sorry,
nothing personal, you've got
to clear your desk and go.

-What?
-Please don't hit me.

I'm wearing glasses.

NICOLA:
What I'd like to
say to your readers

is that the person responsible
is being
fast-tracked to the dole queue

as fast as her kitten heels
will carry her.

You need to leave your badge,
obviously, security.

Stick it!

Andrew, please,
don't take it
like this, please.

NICOLA:
We're going to
sort this mess out.

-Andrew.
-TERRI: I'm so sorry.

MARIANNE:
Is everything all right
out there? It seems, uh...

So, that was, um,
the person responsible.

Didn't you say something
about kitten heels or...

It's never a pretty business,

but you know,
he made mistakes and...

And he had to go.

Olly, perhaps you
could show Marianne
to the lifts.

Actually, I thought
I might take the stairs,

see what else I can pick up
on my way out.

That's very funny.

Hi, Nicola. You all right?

Yeah. Robyn,
could you get me some tea?

Now?

Um... Bad moment?

You sacked
the wrong person, Glenn.
They're all bad moments.

TERRI (SOFTLY): Glenn.
How's Nicola?

GLENN: She looks so...glum.

She looks like I feel
when I visit Sheffield.

(TERRI SIGHING)

TERRI: Well, I don't think
the Guardianliked us

going on
the record with The Mail.

I mean, I did try and spin it.
I got them to
take "frowny" out.

No, you didn't.
Frowny's the second adjective.

Oh. Well, I did do something.

"Nicola Murray,
looking glum,
frowny and tired,

"was overheard
moaning about..."

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?

I don't think
we'd want it back.

"One of her gems
is a plan to
outlaw plastic toys."

GLENN: Right now,
Olly, Nicola hates us

but if she knew we'd found it,
she'd start laughing.

Hating is
better than laughing.
Trust me.

NICOLA: "Why anyone would
want to brand her a killjoy

"or a sourpuss is beyond us."

That was it. It was sourpuss.

They wanted to put "sour",
I suggested the "puss".

-Morning.
-Morning.

GLENN: Morning.

I'll see if I can find
a hammer and some acid.