The Thick of It (2005–2012): Season 4, Episode 5 - Episode #4.5 - full transcript
After Nicola's resignation Mannion considers following suit but saves himself on Phil's advice by putting the blame on Nicola for Mr Tickel's death, since her husband was part of the housing project which made Tickel homeless. Adam and Fergus persuade Glenn to send an email from Terri's computer to the Guardian, outlining all the snide jokes Mannion and his advisers made at Mr Tickel's expense, but end up getting incriminated themselves. Thus both political parties must now face investigation.
Tickel's dead. What?
This is an emergency situation,
You have to bash the Tickel button.
You should all for an inquiry. Now.
That's why I'm
calling for an inquiry.
I need to have that email.
I'll do it.
I may have fleetingly supported
the policy myself.
So you've essentially launched
an investigation into yourself?
'I have decided to
stand down as leader.'
Ding Dong! The useless bitch is dead.
Oh, God. Here we go.
Do you feel you've been
stabbed in the back, Mrs Murray?
She won't be answering
any questions.
Are you backing
Dan Miller for Leader?
Thank you all very much.
There she goes, a tiebreaker
in the making.
"Who was Nicola Murray?
I'll have to hurry you, teams."
Farewell our shit
and useless servant.
At least Miller's
a step up from Murray.
He doesn't have Left and Right
on his wellies.
I need your attention for thirty
of your earth seconds.
This is what will happen.
What is Stewart doing?
You will go to the Z drive.
You find a file entitled "Miller's
Ascension, Whitehall Arab Spring".
Open, ingest, implement. And after
that, I expect both of you.
You two, to get together.
Oh, fuck, the man made of space
hopper is coming this way.
This is going to
be about the inquiry.
I'm thinking I should resign now.
What?
You can't do that. You're Aslan,
no-one shaves your mane.
I'm not a fucking lion, Phil.
There's going to be an inquiry
into the death of a man
who died because of a policy
I signed off on.
We all know how this is going to end.
I, I, I should take
the dignified way out.
You've missed the dignified exit.
That was straight away, basically.
Yeah.
The only silver lining in today's
cloud of farts is that another one
of Morecambe and Wise's
policy launches is ruined.
Are those the carers?
They don't look old enough.
Free travel passes or something.
It's another one of Adam and
Fergus' 'Pop Up Book of Policies'.
Peter Mannion. Lovely to meet you.
What vital work you do.
Peter, I'd love to introduce you to
'The Carers'...
I've just met them.
What's my plan? I didn't resign,
and now this inquiry's
going to nail me up
like fucking Barabbas.
Actually, he was the one they let
go. Shouldn't have, he was a
criminal. Wait.
We could wrong-foot Murray.
How? You could push for the inquiry
to go wider.
Wider? That's mental!
We want to shut it down.
Just hear me out.
We could look into the whole culture
of PFI procurement.
That is a good idea. Really?
Fuck, that hurt to say.
But she's right, because Murray's
husband's involved in PFI
and he's as dodgy as a Russian...
As a Russian.
We can backspin it, Peter.
It's good.
But... but... Is revenge a mature
response? Let me think. Yes, it is.
Right, let's poke her in the PFI's.
If you get any channel problems,
just swing them past the purple
Power Ranger over here.
Hello, again. Vital, vital work,
so proud of you.
Terri, I've got a job for you.
Ah, Peter. This is all pretty
white-knuckle stuff, eh?
Is it getting the old
adrenalin pumping?
Assuming you can squeeze past
the port and stilton?
Shut the fuck up, you prancing shit.
Ah, we need to widen the inquiry
into the Mr Tickel's death
to include the issue
of PFI contracts.
Great. OK.
I'm just working on Fergus's
Carer's Pass press release...
Good. Could you fuck that to one side
for the moment and concentrate
on this? Thank you.
Slip into neutral for
a moment here, Peter.
We haven't got a green,
so let's not hit the accelerator.
Here's another way of looking at it.
Let's. Goodbye.
So, we heading home?
No, back to the office.
Oh. Really?
Lots of people there have worked
incredibly hard for me.
They're going to want to see me
to say a proper goodbye.
Of course.
Yeah, I'm sure that's true.
Oh, Christ,
there's that fucking chop!
You've been chopped, Mrs Murray!
How does it feel to be chopped?
You're a little bit late actually,
Mr Chop.
You've... you've had your chips!
Ha-ha!
That is precisely why
I didn't let you go to the One Show.
Olly, for God's sake pick up. I've
had it. I'm coming in from the cold.
I'm, I'm re-crossing the floor.
Oh, Glenn! These are the carers.
This is Jack, and this is Rohinka.
Hello.
I'm really sorry for your loss.
Mannion's called for a PFI enquiry.
Oh, that's going to put
the cat among the pussies.
We need to show that we were never
in favour PFI and that we never
approved of the sell off of
key-worker housing. However...
In a way that doesn't make us look
like dicks for not saying so
at the time or shits
for saying so now.
You know, we don't have much time.
Well, let's just bin the
Carer's Pass launch. Just bin it.
It's spring conference in two weeks.
The Dungaree Jubilee.
That kind of stuff is exactly
what the conference needs.
But we've been here for three years
and we've done fuck all.
We haven't done fuck all.
No, no, seriously, think about it.
In that time, Apple have
launched two iPhones,
three iPads and their boss
is a fucking dead guy!
Yeah.
Let's just push it till
the end of the day.
OK, we'll push it near the end of
the day, but you know the... Robyn.
Hello, Robyn.
That, in fact, is my name.
Take a seat.
I know it's your name, because it
was at the top of a redundancy list
that I've just looked at.
Right, stop rolling around
naked in the headlines.
Blind Man's Crumpet's on the way up.
If you're going to film her,
try not to make it obvious.
And no smiling. Not even a wee
fucking Anne Robinson, right?
The look we're going for should
be solemn respect.
You know, like blokes
modelling underpants.
Oh, hang on. Mannion's
calling for a wider inquiry.
He's what?!
He's trying to drag you in - shift
the focus to the PFI conflict
with your husband's company.
No, no! No, no, no, no, no!
Fuck! What do I do?
What do I do? What do I do?
Go up there and smile for starters.
Yes, Dan! Dan, Dan can put
the lid on this, can't he?
Course he can,
because he is actually quite good.
I'm probably going to get quite
emotional, might get quite teary
if I can find an onion or somebody
to pluck my pubes.
Robert! Yes, sir?
I want you to get over
to Fatty's. Yeah.
Make sure he's not hiding
a leadership challenge from me.
Frisk him if necessary,
all 300 of his folds. Get to it.
I will, do some small-talk,
best wishes stuff,
and then I'll just casually
bring up the inquiry.
Or, no! No, no, I should cut
straight to the inquiry,
shouldn't I?
Oh, fuck, I don't know how to play
this. Um...
This is why they got rid of me,
isn't it? Isn't it?!
No, no...
This is it, this is it!
No, there were other reasons. Fuck!
Come on, let's go.
Seat of the pants airways.
Are you smiling? I can't see your
face. Make sure you're smiling.
Oh, here she comes. Yes, hello.
Ha, Thank you. Thanks very much.
I hope you're not clapping
because I've gone.
Ha-ha! Um, seriously, I, er,
I feel over the past two years,
I've given it my best shot.
And I'm quite sure that my,
er, successor,
whoever he or she may be,
will achieve the victory
that this country badly needs.
I've got some, some very, er...
strong memories from working here,
and I'll, um...
I'll keep those with me, for ever.
So thank you guys.
Thank you. Thanks a lot.
Thank you. Thanks so much.
Thanks for everything. Dan!
It feels a bit odd for me
to add to your speech,
but I will be tweeting
a tribute later.
Oh, that's nice. Thank you.
I was just wondering if we could
just have a private word
in my office, in your...
Well, in, in, this office.
Umm, yep.
Yes? Great. Thank you.
Oh.
Oh! Ha-ha! Don't know where to sit!
I, er, actually I'll just grab...
One of those.
This inquiry, you know,
it's not really necessary now,
so if you want to say that,
I'll just back down.
An inquiry wouldn't be a bad thing.
A clean break with the past
in the minds of the electorate.
Well, I mean, the electorate,
you know, like me.
Quite a lot of them
voted me leader, so...
But you only beat me
on a technicality.
Yeah.
I mean the thing is, Dan,
you know, pragmatically,
I'm now a party grandee.
Malcolm,
this is a private conversation.
You are not a grandee,
you're a fucking blandee.
No-one knew what the fuck you
stood for. Political fucking mist.
No substance, no weight.
You've got all the charm of a rotting
teddy bear by a graveside.
By the way, women fucking hate you.
I can show you the polling.
They think you come across like
a jittery mother at a wedding.
The best thing you ever did in your
flat-lining non-leadership
was call for an inquiry.
Because that will fuck the
government, and it will fuck you.
So now, please, just fuck off back
to your home, you headless frump,
and prepare for your column
in Grazia.
Steady on Malcolm, that's a bit
strong. Come on, let's go.
OK, you... Well, you just need to
know that you have absolutely
fucking done it now, Malcolm.
Because you're about to find out
what it feels like
to have me pissing into your tent.
Well, you know what?
Your piss will never fucking make
it into my tent, because by some
unforeseen Nicola Murray-shaped
fiasco, like every fucking Nicola
Murray-shaped fiasco I've had to deal
with for the last two years,
you'll end up blowing
your own fucking stream
into your own fucking face.
There's your golden handshake.
Finished?
You're finished.
We'll see.
Right. Well, thanks, Dan.
Think about what I said.
Also might want to think about
the fact there should be
an apostrophe in 'it's'.
Illiterate fuckers.
What did Dan say about the inquiry?
Fucking Dan! He's just a...
He's basically just a bent dummy
with Malcolm's hand shoved
up his arse. Fucking...!
All right, just calm down.
Bastards.
Do you want some Rescue Remedy?
No.
Do you want me
to send for some noodles?
No, I don't want fucking noodles!
I just...
Oh, God.
I just... I just want
a fucking break.
Mmm.
I think we both need to
think about where we're at.
You know, trajectory and so on.
Bollocks.
I don't want you.
I just didn't want everybody to
go on the same day, that's all.
I'm fine. I've got me from here.
Box.
Box.
Fucking box.
Bingo! We just need to leak it.
You saying, "Key worker housing
sell-off is possibly the worst idea
"since the invention of theatre."
Does that give us
enough distance from Mannion?
Oh, yeah. This is your 'Get Out
of Jail Free' card strapped
to a fucking jet-pack.
We just need to leak it.
Well, obviously it can't look
like it came from us.
Maybe it's time to bring Glenn back.
He's been out on a limb
since punk hasn't he?
Thousand year old Glenn Fiddich?
Yeah, fucking perfect. He'll love it.
Olly, look, I'm feeling
very exposed here.
I've got my cock out,
it's covered in breadcrumbs
and the fucking pigeons
are circling.
Look, please, just,
just ring me back.
Mr Cullen, we would like you
to leak... wow... this.
Don't worry. Nothing major, just an
email that puts a bit of distance
between Fergus and the Tickel affair.
What? I go from being
a turnip to a leak.
Still a fucking vegetable
to you though, eh?
You want to bring Mannion down
a peg or 12, don't you, Glenn?
Well, of course I do.
The up-his-arse Kensington Butcher.
Well, this is the cyanide capsule
we'd like you
to break into his afternoon brandy.
This is it, Glenn,
you're off the bench
and back on the pitch to score
the golden goal in extra time.
Come on, mate.
Pick it up.
Fuck it. Why not? I'll do it.
Good man. Thank you.
I don't need to shake your hand.
All right. Touchy but not feely.
Go. I'll have a look.
You are a brilliant bullshitter.
Yeah, well. Two years doing press
for npower, it never leaves you.
Hello, Malcolm.
Are you telling me he's still
in a fucking ba... Sorry, excuse me.
Hello, Charlie Bucket.
Hang on a sec.
Tell him to get out of the fucking
bar, or I will come along
and personally set fire
to the whisky-soaked bastard.
Hey-hey! You're missing all the
excitement. Yeah, no, no.
I've been following developments
on Sky News,
where they have actually
stitched Dan Miller's head
to Usain Bolt's body.
Yes, well, get in a cab and
get over here right now.
What me? You want me over there?
Of course I want you here.
You are now my right hand man.
Is this one of those jokes where
I turn up and you go
"Ha-ha, my right hand, that's
what I wipe my arse with"?
That's a risk you're
going to have to take.
All right, well, as soon as I'm
signed off by a consultant, I'll...
Oh, who cares about the opinion
of some golf-obsessed prick
in a bow tie?
Just scoop your guts up, put them in
a fucking wheelbarrow and come over.
Love you too.
Robyn. Carer's Pass
has timed out, yeah?
Bundle the Munchkins out of the
building, get them in tomorrow.
Right. Can we get them
something for their travel?
Well, thanks to the Carer's Pass
they get free travel!
But it hasn't come in yet.
So no.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Umm, it looks like we're not going
to launch the Carer's Pass today.
Um, but we were wondering, could you
come back at the same time tomorrow?
I don't know. Erm...
Have you got anything on?
I mean, you know,
apart from the full-time
round-the-clock
medical care of your families?
Ah ha! It's his Ollyness!
Olly, whose initiation rite into our
little cabal of shitty devils here,
will be to go over and visit Fatty,
and to present him with this
as a means of getting him
to shelve his ludicrous
leadership ambitions.
Show him this. Oh!
Jesus, Malcolm! You could have
left it in the envelope.
OK, come on everybody!
Let's get to it.
I want Dan to wake up to the news
that any opposition is Brian Jones.
Meaning?
Dead in the water.
Oh, yeah, right.
Could you?
Glenn!
What are you doing at my computer?
I'm just doing Bradford &
Bingley a favour.
I'm bringing down Mannion
by leaking an email.
A leak! Coming from my computer?
No. No. Get off. Get off.
Take that... whatever it is, out of
the... whatever it is. Take it. Out.
No-one will think it's you. Nobody
leaks from their own computer.
Look, you do this for me,
and I'll make sure that you get
the full severance package.
No questions asked,
with full pension.
And a lump sum.
Yeah. I guess. Yeah.
The thing is, Glenn, I've got my eye
on a tea shop near Ludlow.
Without a lump sum,
no tea shop. No can do.
OK, right. This can go straight to
Geoffrey at The Guardian. Yeah?
OK.
Right. Can we do it together?
What?
Please. Just your hand on mine, my
hand on yours. Just to it together.
Like, um...
Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid.
Yes, OK.
Not that I'm saying you're butch.
No, of course not.
One, two, three.
Just send the email.
Ah, Team Peter. Come on, guys.
Let's take a little
imagination stroll
through a virtual enquiry, huh?
Oh, dear God,
not another whiteboard session.
I've got a note from my mother,
I have a verruca.
I just want to get an overview,
Peter.
A helicopter shot of where
we currently are.
Who's most to blame
in the blame garden.
OK, the onion is PFI,
let's peel back some layers.
Murray resignation. How do we feel
about that? What's Tickel's
M records?
Medical.
It's his leaked medical records.
Leaked? I thought they were
common knowledge.
Well, they are now.
Because they have been leaked.
Did you know this? Number 10 knew,
so I knew, yeah.
What about you?
Yeah, I thought Tickel
leaked them himself.
Who would voluntarily leak
their own medical records?
You'd have to be mad to do that.
He was mad. That's precisely
what his records said.
Exactly. He was a male nurse.
That's not just mad, that's mental.
Phil! Did the last 30 years
only happen to other people?
Why didn't I know about this?
Leaking medical records is illegal.
Now I look guilty
and incompetent.
Ah! Peter, incompetent.
Look! Don't write that down!
I'm not on your sodding onion!
What is GFU? Good for us. Mmm?
Oh, shit with a capital shit.
We've got to go.
Great.
No, no, no. Sit.
The Guardian have
received an e-mail from Fergus.
Actually, do you know, strike that.
Chain of emails.
Oh, perfect. With all of our
comments about Mr Tickel underneath.
Oh, God. Not the one where we all
piled in with the Mr Men jokes?
Yes, that one, Phil.
Oh, you kid me.
Jesus!
I kid you not!
Oh my giddy fuck.
They've leaked all
the bloody emails.
"Mr Tickel sounds like a gropey
clown at a kid's party".
I can't see! Can I make it bigger?
Go to settings. "Poor Ickle Mr
Tickel, perhaps he's meant
to be sickle".
That's from Fergus.
Is this settings?
Ah! I think I've just taken
a picture of my feet.
Yep?
What? Where?
Right. I don't know.
OK. Rugby tackle him, or, or taze
him. Gaffer tape him to a seat.
He can't come up here.
Er... Glenn is in reception.
Hoddle? Miller? Close? Morangie?
Cullen. Glenn Cullen
is in reception.
Glenn?
Yeah.
Why are you even fucking
telling me that?
When the Queen's butler finds
a cockroach in the pantry,
he just stamps on it.
Yes. She doesn't even know.
OK, OK. I'll go and stamp
on the cockroach, Malcolm.
'..The whole enquiry into the
whole culture of leaking...'
Sam, Sam! Get me
Stewart Pearson on the phone!
Olly, shouldn't you be in bed?
Shouldn't you not be here?
Whoa, stop, stop, whoa!
You can't go up there.
No, I have to.
I can't go back over there.
It's like Alien versus Predator.
I want back in! Here!
Everybody is tremendously
appreciative of what you've done.
It was a noble sacrifice, but...
What do you mean, sacrifice?
I thought we had a deal?
Sacrifice sounds very one sided.
Piss off sounds one sided,
but there we go.
Hey, Malcolm.
Why is he still here?
Can you not perform a simple task?
When there is a shit on your
doorstep, you hose it off.
You don't try and talk it
into leaving of its own volition.
I got rid of Nicola for you.
You owe me.
I owe you? Your act of treachery
wiped the slate clean.
Rudolf Hess's fucking
senile older brother.
Look, I know you think I screwed up,
but I came here on my hands
and knees, Malcolm.
You, my friend.
You don't exist to me any more.
I can't even fucking hear you.
Do you want me to beg?
Is that it?
Because I will.
Listen, Mary Queen of fucking Shits.
In the old days we would have
just slit you up the middle
like a fucking Cornish pasty.
Hang your steaming entrails all
around the Tower of fucking London.
Catch you later, you fucking traitor.
Sam, what is it?
A call from Stewart Pearson.
Stewart Pearson. I'm the fucking
wanker's lodestone today!
Stewart, yes. The goatee-bearded
guru-boy of Company B.
It's a no, Glenn.
Yeah, Malcolm can this wait, Mmm?
Word is the PM's considering an
inquiry into the culture of leaking.
No, no. Do you really think he's
going to invite everyone into
our complex network of
secret burrows?
Open up the whole
of Watership Down?!
OK 'Bright Eyes'.
I'm massively fucking reassured.
Look, you may as well have
an inquiry into gravity.
Now, I have to go, Malcolm,
because I've got like a whole
country to govern, yeah?
Could I use your pass to go
to the loo again?
Thing is, if my swipe card is being
monitored, then it's either
going to look quite like I'm skiving
or have a bladder condition.
The primary thing I want
to say first and foremost
is you can't blame me
for this, Peter.
If anything, it's the culture
of blame that's to blame for this.
Great to see you again.
Such crucial work you do.
Meeting room!
Right. Sit down.
I can't resign.
No.
And I'm not going to resign.
I had the perfect moment to,
right early on,
when I could have resigned in a
dignified and statesman-like way,
and you both advised me
not to resign.
So now, I. Can't. Resign.
You shouldn't resign, Peter.
This is going to happen.
One of you has got to go.
I want both of you to give me
reasons why you shouldn't resign.
Erm, because, because, I'm a Special
Advisor to... a... senior cabinet.
That's a job description, Philip.
That's a job description.
That is not a reason.
That's just your job, from which I'm
asking you why you shouldn't resign.
I...know... everything about you.
I am a, a world expert in, in,
in Peter Mannion.
From, er... pin number
to inside leg measurements.
I'm, I'm, I'm there, you know...
What's his inside leg measurements?
34. I've, I've given you
everything, Peter.
You can't, I mean, I don't have
anything else. That's the point.
I don't, I don't have any friends.
I don't have any life.
I haven't had sex for five years,
and I, I don't even enjoy it.
So, you know, I'm not going
to get anyone pregnant.
I'm never going to get anyone
pregnant, OK? I'm fucking seedless.
Where as she's just,
just a fucking baby bomb! OK?
And she's going to go off all over
the office and, and leave you!
I'm going to be here!
I'm sorry, but my good name
is at stake here. Oh, Christ.
Peter, you must understand. I am an
innocent woman. I'm the "DoSac One".
That's it. I've had enough.
I've had enough of all of you.
You're all shit.
I'm going to sort it out, by myself.
Did you hear that?
I can't bear that you think about me
like this. Don't follow me.
No, please!
Stop following me.
I insist, I insist.
Peter, please.
All right, I admit it.
I'm in love with you.
Now fuck off to your office
and organise the wedding.
Mannion goes Mel Gibson.
Spot it.
You know what you've done?
Yeah?
You bought a fan.
You've plugged it in,
you've turned the dial up
to maximum...
It wasn't a weak fan.
Not one of those office fans.
It was a Dyson.
And I stood the other side of it...
Did a liquid shit on it.
Trousers down.
And where did the shit go?
All over Mannion.
That's just priceless.
Fuck, hang on.
What?
Uh, check the fucking emails.
What are you talking about?
What the fuck did you give to Glenn?
Just the email...
But it's the whole... We're on
the email! Oh, fucking hell.
Why did you, why did you leave us
on the dongle?
No, no, no no, no. No! No!
Because he's only supposed to send
the fucking top part of it!
Why did you give him the choice?
Because an email has a chain,
Fergus. It has a chain, and it
goes all the way down.
Adam, there is now shit all over me!
Oh, Jesus Christ!
How come there is shit on me?
Thanks, Adam!
Look, it's not my fucking fault!
He's supposed to redact it!
I just wanted one solid shit,
to go in one direction.
Not Madras, fucking everywhere!
Alastair, yeah, it's Peter Mannion.
I just wanted to give you
a nudge on this.
The real story here isn't
all this jokey email nonsense,
it's that Mr Tickel's medical records
were illegally acquired.
Yeah.
He's been the victim of Mr Blag.
OK. Bye.
Hi. I just... needed a pen.
Would you like a pen?
As a small recompense for the vital,
vital work that you do...
I'll tell you what I'd like.
I'd like a departmental in
ten regarding leakage.
And as of now, your
department's in lockdown.
No emailing, no Diving Bell
and Butterflying,
no communication, nada!
Just a little piece of electric
paper, that's all.
Off the record,
there are a number of machines
that emails can be set to.
Why would I know anything about this
email? Why me? Thank you.
Comms. Off the phones. Now.
Oh, my... I think I've just
perjured myself.
Can you perjure yourself on the
phone, or is it only a court thing?
I'm so sorry for the delay.
I promise it won't be much longer.
And that's not a political promise.
That's a real promise. Ha-ha-ha!
Hey!
2,000-year-old man! Why the fuck did
you send the whole email?! Huh?
You were supposed to redact it,
send the top email,
not the whole fucking exchange.
Jesus Christ on a
crystal meth binge!
Terri and I sent what you gave me.
Terri?!
Why the fuck... The only reason
I'd ever ask Terri for help,
is to shoot me,
if I ever ask Terri for help!
Same reason you gave it to me.
Distance.
Two people! Twice the distance!
Terri doesn't give us any distance!
Terri gives me a twitch! Right here!
Laugh it up, Glenn. I've got
a twitch called Terri!
I am actually here, you know.
Yeah, and that, in a nutshell,
is the whole fucking problem!
♪ Fuck you very much. ♪
Five minutes guys, yeah?
Thanks.
Glenn, what about my tea shop?
It got closed.
There's been a murder.
An inquiry into all of leaking.
All of leaking.
We are so... we are so screwed.
He's done it.
That chinless horse fiddler,
our fucklustrious PM has opened
Pandora's fucking Box and curled
a massive steamer right into it.
In the time it has
taken for Terri to extract
herself from her Bluetooth,
this little inquiry has fused!
It is now growing faster than
the speed of bloody light!
It's not going to be something
that we can see from space.
It's going to be space!
Brian Cox is going to phone me,
and ask for the film rights!
But what leak, what leak,
what fucking leak?!
Anything! If I find out that anyone
from here has leaked anything,
I will make sure they have to
emigrate after this, to a country
where they don't speak English
and there's no internet.
But everyone who leaked anything,
that would fill the
fucking Caspian Sea!
We're just a drop in the ocean here.
No, no, what you are Peter,
is leak zero. It started here.
You have presided over a shambolic
showering of info. Peter Mannion.
"Singin' in The Rain"
Oh, Christ. Hello, Malcolm!
Right, was this your idea?
Because I don't remember
signing any suicide pact.
Malcolm, look. I'm as shocked
about this as you are.
Yes, you sound really shocked,
you big fucking spunk lolly.
I don't even know what that is.
But I, you know, I think we all need
time to, to process this data, yep?
What the fuck is going on?!
All right, Fergus.
What the fuck is going on?
The Ark has been opened.
And your face is going to melt.
There's going to be an inquiry.
Have I just stepped through
a portal into a sausage machine,
because this is making mince
meat of my head.
It's the end of the world
as we know it.
To paraphrase a popular fucking
Bangles song.
It's... it's REM.
Don't start contradicting me
on that kind of shit.
OK, Robyn, it's over to you.
It's show time.
Let's just give it another
five minutes.
There's still a blogger from
the Huffington Post to come.
Is that it?
It looks like a paedophile's
funeral.
It doesn't matter.
We've got to get out of here ASAP.
Leaking is a fundamental component
of our governmental system.
If a government can't leak,
do you know what happens?
Dark shit builds up
and then it bursts.
And that's something you
don't want to see.
You think your appendix was bad.
Hi, and welcome to the launch
of Carer's Pass.
You know, we thought long
and hard about how,
in these straitened times,
we could help those
who don't help themselves,
but rather help others.
Please give it up for The Carers.
This is the gift that's going to go
on giving, believe you me.
So you better keep your head down.
I don't mean just when you're
frequenting your favourite
glory holes.
Well, whereas your closet is
completely free of skeletons
isn't it, Malcolm?
Cos you've buried
them in a landfill in Essex.
Oh, yeah, sorry, and just to say
that we're very proud to say that
this, this policy has been
pushed through by our party.
We do have a voice in this
coalition, and it is being heard.
When this inquiry lands, you'd better
have developed a very flat,
stony face with no expression.
But that'll be easy for you.
It's your fucking come face,
isn't it?
Hi, my name's Rohinka.
OK, when they dry up, just jump in.
Do a quick Q&A and wrap it up, yeah?
Who am I? Fucking Kirsty Wark?
No.
Lead a normal life. So, this
Carers Pass is a blessing, really.
I, Peter Mannion.
Stewart Pearson.
Fergus Williams.
Adam Kenyon.
Emma Florence Messinger.
Philip Bartholomew Cornelius Smith.
Teresa Jessica Coverley.
Robyn Murdoch.
Glenn Cullen.
Oliver Francis Reeder.
Nicola Alison Murray.
I, Malcolm Tucker, do declare that
the evidence I give
will be the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth.
This is an emergency situation,
You have to bash the Tickel button.
You should all for an inquiry. Now.
That's why I'm
calling for an inquiry.
I need to have that email.
I'll do it.
I may have fleetingly supported
the policy myself.
So you've essentially launched
an investigation into yourself?
'I have decided to
stand down as leader.'
Ding Dong! The useless bitch is dead.
Oh, God. Here we go.
Do you feel you've been
stabbed in the back, Mrs Murray?
She won't be answering
any questions.
Are you backing
Dan Miller for Leader?
Thank you all very much.
There she goes, a tiebreaker
in the making.
"Who was Nicola Murray?
I'll have to hurry you, teams."
Farewell our shit
and useless servant.
At least Miller's
a step up from Murray.
He doesn't have Left and Right
on his wellies.
I need your attention for thirty
of your earth seconds.
This is what will happen.
What is Stewart doing?
You will go to the Z drive.
You find a file entitled "Miller's
Ascension, Whitehall Arab Spring".
Open, ingest, implement. And after
that, I expect both of you.
You two, to get together.
Oh, fuck, the man made of space
hopper is coming this way.
This is going to
be about the inquiry.
I'm thinking I should resign now.
What?
You can't do that. You're Aslan,
no-one shaves your mane.
I'm not a fucking lion, Phil.
There's going to be an inquiry
into the death of a man
who died because of a policy
I signed off on.
We all know how this is going to end.
I, I, I should take
the dignified way out.
You've missed the dignified exit.
That was straight away, basically.
Yeah.
The only silver lining in today's
cloud of farts is that another one
of Morecambe and Wise's
policy launches is ruined.
Are those the carers?
They don't look old enough.
Free travel passes or something.
It's another one of Adam and
Fergus' 'Pop Up Book of Policies'.
Peter Mannion. Lovely to meet you.
What vital work you do.
Peter, I'd love to introduce you to
'The Carers'...
I've just met them.
What's my plan? I didn't resign,
and now this inquiry's
going to nail me up
like fucking Barabbas.
Actually, he was the one they let
go. Shouldn't have, he was a
criminal. Wait.
We could wrong-foot Murray.
How? You could push for the inquiry
to go wider.
Wider? That's mental!
We want to shut it down.
Just hear me out.
We could look into the whole culture
of PFI procurement.
That is a good idea. Really?
Fuck, that hurt to say.
But she's right, because Murray's
husband's involved in PFI
and he's as dodgy as a Russian...
As a Russian.
We can backspin it, Peter.
It's good.
But... but... Is revenge a mature
response? Let me think. Yes, it is.
Right, let's poke her in the PFI's.
If you get any channel problems,
just swing them past the purple
Power Ranger over here.
Hello, again. Vital, vital work,
so proud of you.
Terri, I've got a job for you.
Ah, Peter. This is all pretty
white-knuckle stuff, eh?
Is it getting the old
adrenalin pumping?
Assuming you can squeeze past
the port and stilton?
Shut the fuck up, you prancing shit.
Ah, we need to widen the inquiry
into the Mr Tickel's death
to include the issue
of PFI contracts.
Great. OK.
I'm just working on Fergus's
Carer's Pass press release...
Good. Could you fuck that to one side
for the moment and concentrate
on this? Thank you.
Slip into neutral for
a moment here, Peter.
We haven't got a green,
so let's not hit the accelerator.
Here's another way of looking at it.
Let's. Goodbye.
So, we heading home?
No, back to the office.
Oh. Really?
Lots of people there have worked
incredibly hard for me.
They're going to want to see me
to say a proper goodbye.
Of course.
Yeah, I'm sure that's true.
Oh, Christ,
there's that fucking chop!
You've been chopped, Mrs Murray!
How does it feel to be chopped?
You're a little bit late actually,
Mr Chop.
You've... you've had your chips!
Ha-ha!
That is precisely why
I didn't let you go to the One Show.
Olly, for God's sake pick up. I've
had it. I'm coming in from the cold.
I'm, I'm re-crossing the floor.
Oh, Glenn! These are the carers.
This is Jack, and this is Rohinka.
Hello.
I'm really sorry for your loss.
Mannion's called for a PFI enquiry.
Oh, that's going to put
the cat among the pussies.
We need to show that we were never
in favour PFI and that we never
approved of the sell off of
key-worker housing. However...
In a way that doesn't make us look
like dicks for not saying so
at the time or shits
for saying so now.
You know, we don't have much time.
Well, let's just bin the
Carer's Pass launch. Just bin it.
It's spring conference in two weeks.
The Dungaree Jubilee.
That kind of stuff is exactly
what the conference needs.
But we've been here for three years
and we've done fuck all.
We haven't done fuck all.
No, no, seriously, think about it.
In that time, Apple have
launched two iPhones,
three iPads and their boss
is a fucking dead guy!
Yeah.
Let's just push it till
the end of the day.
OK, we'll push it near the end of
the day, but you know the... Robyn.
Hello, Robyn.
That, in fact, is my name.
Take a seat.
I know it's your name, because it
was at the top of a redundancy list
that I've just looked at.
Right, stop rolling around
naked in the headlines.
Blind Man's Crumpet's on the way up.
If you're going to film her,
try not to make it obvious.
And no smiling. Not even a wee
fucking Anne Robinson, right?
The look we're going for should
be solemn respect.
You know, like blokes
modelling underpants.
Oh, hang on. Mannion's
calling for a wider inquiry.
He's what?!
He's trying to drag you in - shift
the focus to the PFI conflict
with your husband's company.
No, no! No, no, no, no, no!
Fuck! What do I do?
What do I do? What do I do?
Go up there and smile for starters.
Yes, Dan! Dan, Dan can put
the lid on this, can't he?
Course he can,
because he is actually quite good.
I'm probably going to get quite
emotional, might get quite teary
if I can find an onion or somebody
to pluck my pubes.
Robert! Yes, sir?
I want you to get over
to Fatty's. Yeah.
Make sure he's not hiding
a leadership challenge from me.
Frisk him if necessary,
all 300 of his folds. Get to it.
I will, do some small-talk,
best wishes stuff,
and then I'll just casually
bring up the inquiry.
Or, no! No, no, I should cut
straight to the inquiry,
shouldn't I?
Oh, fuck, I don't know how to play
this. Um...
This is why they got rid of me,
isn't it? Isn't it?!
No, no...
This is it, this is it!
No, there were other reasons. Fuck!
Come on, let's go.
Seat of the pants airways.
Are you smiling? I can't see your
face. Make sure you're smiling.
Oh, here she comes. Yes, hello.
Ha, Thank you. Thanks very much.
I hope you're not clapping
because I've gone.
Ha-ha! Um, seriously, I, er,
I feel over the past two years,
I've given it my best shot.
And I'm quite sure that my,
er, successor,
whoever he or she may be,
will achieve the victory
that this country badly needs.
I've got some, some very, er...
strong memories from working here,
and I'll, um...
I'll keep those with me, for ever.
So thank you guys.
Thank you. Thanks a lot.
Thank you. Thanks so much.
Thanks for everything. Dan!
It feels a bit odd for me
to add to your speech,
but I will be tweeting
a tribute later.
Oh, that's nice. Thank you.
I was just wondering if we could
just have a private word
in my office, in your...
Well, in, in, this office.
Umm, yep.
Yes? Great. Thank you.
Oh.
Oh! Ha-ha! Don't know where to sit!
I, er, actually I'll just grab...
One of those.
This inquiry, you know,
it's not really necessary now,
so if you want to say that,
I'll just back down.
An inquiry wouldn't be a bad thing.
A clean break with the past
in the minds of the electorate.
Well, I mean, the electorate,
you know, like me.
Quite a lot of them
voted me leader, so...
But you only beat me
on a technicality.
Yeah.
I mean the thing is, Dan,
you know, pragmatically,
I'm now a party grandee.
Malcolm,
this is a private conversation.
You are not a grandee,
you're a fucking blandee.
No-one knew what the fuck you
stood for. Political fucking mist.
No substance, no weight.
You've got all the charm of a rotting
teddy bear by a graveside.
By the way, women fucking hate you.
I can show you the polling.
They think you come across like
a jittery mother at a wedding.
The best thing you ever did in your
flat-lining non-leadership
was call for an inquiry.
Because that will fuck the
government, and it will fuck you.
So now, please, just fuck off back
to your home, you headless frump,
and prepare for your column
in Grazia.
Steady on Malcolm, that's a bit
strong. Come on, let's go.
OK, you... Well, you just need to
know that you have absolutely
fucking done it now, Malcolm.
Because you're about to find out
what it feels like
to have me pissing into your tent.
Well, you know what?
Your piss will never fucking make
it into my tent, because by some
unforeseen Nicola Murray-shaped
fiasco, like every fucking Nicola
Murray-shaped fiasco I've had to deal
with for the last two years,
you'll end up blowing
your own fucking stream
into your own fucking face.
There's your golden handshake.
Finished?
You're finished.
We'll see.
Right. Well, thanks, Dan.
Think about what I said.
Also might want to think about
the fact there should be
an apostrophe in 'it's'.
Illiterate fuckers.
What did Dan say about the inquiry?
Fucking Dan! He's just a...
He's basically just a bent dummy
with Malcolm's hand shoved
up his arse. Fucking...!
All right, just calm down.
Bastards.
Do you want some Rescue Remedy?
No.
Do you want me
to send for some noodles?
No, I don't want fucking noodles!
I just...
Oh, God.
I just... I just want
a fucking break.
Mmm.
I think we both need to
think about where we're at.
You know, trajectory and so on.
Bollocks.
I don't want you.
I just didn't want everybody to
go on the same day, that's all.
I'm fine. I've got me from here.
Box.
Box.
Fucking box.
Bingo! We just need to leak it.
You saying, "Key worker housing
sell-off is possibly the worst idea
"since the invention of theatre."
Does that give us
enough distance from Mannion?
Oh, yeah. This is your 'Get Out
of Jail Free' card strapped
to a fucking jet-pack.
We just need to leak it.
Well, obviously it can't look
like it came from us.
Maybe it's time to bring Glenn back.
He's been out on a limb
since punk hasn't he?
Thousand year old Glenn Fiddich?
Yeah, fucking perfect. He'll love it.
Olly, look, I'm feeling
very exposed here.
I've got my cock out,
it's covered in breadcrumbs
and the fucking pigeons
are circling.
Look, please, just,
just ring me back.
Mr Cullen, we would like you
to leak... wow... this.
Don't worry. Nothing major, just an
email that puts a bit of distance
between Fergus and the Tickel affair.
What? I go from being
a turnip to a leak.
Still a fucking vegetable
to you though, eh?
You want to bring Mannion down
a peg or 12, don't you, Glenn?
Well, of course I do.
The up-his-arse Kensington Butcher.
Well, this is the cyanide capsule
we'd like you
to break into his afternoon brandy.
This is it, Glenn,
you're off the bench
and back on the pitch to score
the golden goal in extra time.
Come on, mate.
Pick it up.
Fuck it. Why not? I'll do it.
Good man. Thank you.
I don't need to shake your hand.
All right. Touchy but not feely.
Go. I'll have a look.
You are a brilliant bullshitter.
Yeah, well. Two years doing press
for npower, it never leaves you.
Hello, Malcolm.
Are you telling me he's still
in a fucking ba... Sorry, excuse me.
Hello, Charlie Bucket.
Hang on a sec.
Tell him to get out of the fucking
bar, or I will come along
and personally set fire
to the whisky-soaked bastard.
Hey-hey! You're missing all the
excitement. Yeah, no, no.
I've been following developments
on Sky News,
where they have actually
stitched Dan Miller's head
to Usain Bolt's body.
Yes, well, get in a cab and
get over here right now.
What me? You want me over there?
Of course I want you here.
You are now my right hand man.
Is this one of those jokes where
I turn up and you go
"Ha-ha, my right hand, that's
what I wipe my arse with"?
That's a risk you're
going to have to take.
All right, well, as soon as I'm
signed off by a consultant, I'll...
Oh, who cares about the opinion
of some golf-obsessed prick
in a bow tie?
Just scoop your guts up, put them in
a fucking wheelbarrow and come over.
Love you too.
Robyn. Carer's Pass
has timed out, yeah?
Bundle the Munchkins out of the
building, get them in tomorrow.
Right. Can we get them
something for their travel?
Well, thanks to the Carer's Pass
they get free travel!
But it hasn't come in yet.
So no.
Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Umm, it looks like we're not going
to launch the Carer's Pass today.
Um, but we were wondering, could you
come back at the same time tomorrow?
I don't know. Erm...
Have you got anything on?
I mean, you know,
apart from the full-time
round-the-clock
medical care of your families?
Ah ha! It's his Ollyness!
Olly, whose initiation rite into our
little cabal of shitty devils here,
will be to go over and visit Fatty,
and to present him with this
as a means of getting him
to shelve his ludicrous
leadership ambitions.
Show him this. Oh!
Jesus, Malcolm! You could have
left it in the envelope.
OK, come on everybody!
Let's get to it.
I want Dan to wake up to the news
that any opposition is Brian Jones.
Meaning?
Dead in the water.
Oh, yeah, right.
Could you?
Glenn!
What are you doing at my computer?
I'm just doing Bradford &
Bingley a favour.
I'm bringing down Mannion
by leaking an email.
A leak! Coming from my computer?
No. No. Get off. Get off.
Take that... whatever it is, out of
the... whatever it is. Take it. Out.
No-one will think it's you. Nobody
leaks from their own computer.
Look, you do this for me,
and I'll make sure that you get
the full severance package.
No questions asked,
with full pension.
And a lump sum.
Yeah. I guess. Yeah.
The thing is, Glenn, I've got my eye
on a tea shop near Ludlow.
Without a lump sum,
no tea shop. No can do.
OK, right. This can go straight to
Geoffrey at The Guardian. Yeah?
OK.
Right. Can we do it together?
What?
Please. Just your hand on mine, my
hand on yours. Just to it together.
Like, um...
Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid.
Yes, OK.
Not that I'm saying you're butch.
No, of course not.
One, two, three.
Just send the email.
Ah, Team Peter. Come on, guys.
Let's take a little
imagination stroll
through a virtual enquiry, huh?
Oh, dear God,
not another whiteboard session.
I've got a note from my mother,
I have a verruca.
I just want to get an overview,
Peter.
A helicopter shot of where
we currently are.
Who's most to blame
in the blame garden.
OK, the onion is PFI,
let's peel back some layers.
Murray resignation. How do we feel
about that? What's Tickel's
M records?
Medical.
It's his leaked medical records.
Leaked? I thought they were
common knowledge.
Well, they are now.
Because they have been leaked.
Did you know this? Number 10 knew,
so I knew, yeah.
What about you?
Yeah, I thought Tickel
leaked them himself.
Who would voluntarily leak
their own medical records?
You'd have to be mad to do that.
He was mad. That's precisely
what his records said.
Exactly. He was a male nurse.
That's not just mad, that's mental.
Phil! Did the last 30 years
only happen to other people?
Why didn't I know about this?
Leaking medical records is illegal.
Now I look guilty
and incompetent.
Ah! Peter, incompetent.
Look! Don't write that down!
I'm not on your sodding onion!
What is GFU? Good for us. Mmm?
Oh, shit with a capital shit.
We've got to go.
Great.
No, no, no. Sit.
The Guardian have
received an e-mail from Fergus.
Actually, do you know, strike that.
Chain of emails.
Oh, perfect. With all of our
comments about Mr Tickel underneath.
Oh, God. Not the one where we all
piled in with the Mr Men jokes?
Yes, that one, Phil.
Oh, you kid me.
Jesus!
I kid you not!
Oh my giddy fuck.
They've leaked all
the bloody emails.
"Mr Tickel sounds like a gropey
clown at a kid's party".
I can't see! Can I make it bigger?
Go to settings. "Poor Ickle Mr
Tickel, perhaps he's meant
to be sickle".
That's from Fergus.
Is this settings?
Ah! I think I've just taken
a picture of my feet.
Yep?
What? Where?
Right. I don't know.
OK. Rugby tackle him, or, or taze
him. Gaffer tape him to a seat.
He can't come up here.
Er... Glenn is in reception.
Hoddle? Miller? Close? Morangie?
Cullen. Glenn Cullen
is in reception.
Glenn?
Yeah.
Why are you even fucking
telling me that?
When the Queen's butler finds
a cockroach in the pantry,
he just stamps on it.
Yes. She doesn't even know.
OK, OK. I'll go and stamp
on the cockroach, Malcolm.
'..The whole enquiry into the
whole culture of leaking...'
Sam, Sam! Get me
Stewart Pearson on the phone!
Olly, shouldn't you be in bed?
Shouldn't you not be here?
Whoa, stop, stop, whoa!
You can't go up there.
No, I have to.
I can't go back over there.
It's like Alien versus Predator.
I want back in! Here!
Everybody is tremendously
appreciative of what you've done.
It was a noble sacrifice, but...
What do you mean, sacrifice?
I thought we had a deal?
Sacrifice sounds very one sided.
Piss off sounds one sided,
but there we go.
Hey, Malcolm.
Why is he still here?
Can you not perform a simple task?
When there is a shit on your
doorstep, you hose it off.
You don't try and talk it
into leaving of its own volition.
I got rid of Nicola for you.
You owe me.
I owe you? Your act of treachery
wiped the slate clean.
Rudolf Hess's fucking
senile older brother.
Look, I know you think I screwed up,
but I came here on my hands
and knees, Malcolm.
You, my friend.
You don't exist to me any more.
I can't even fucking hear you.
Do you want me to beg?
Is that it?
Because I will.
Listen, Mary Queen of fucking Shits.
In the old days we would have
just slit you up the middle
like a fucking Cornish pasty.
Hang your steaming entrails all
around the Tower of fucking London.
Catch you later, you fucking traitor.
Sam, what is it?
A call from Stewart Pearson.
Stewart Pearson. I'm the fucking
wanker's lodestone today!
Stewart, yes. The goatee-bearded
guru-boy of Company B.
It's a no, Glenn.
Yeah, Malcolm can this wait, Mmm?
Word is the PM's considering an
inquiry into the culture of leaking.
No, no. Do you really think he's
going to invite everyone into
our complex network of
secret burrows?
Open up the whole
of Watership Down?!
OK 'Bright Eyes'.
I'm massively fucking reassured.
Look, you may as well have
an inquiry into gravity.
Now, I have to go, Malcolm,
because I've got like a whole
country to govern, yeah?
Could I use your pass to go
to the loo again?
Thing is, if my swipe card is being
monitored, then it's either
going to look quite like I'm skiving
or have a bladder condition.
The primary thing I want
to say first and foremost
is you can't blame me
for this, Peter.
If anything, it's the culture
of blame that's to blame for this.
Great to see you again.
Such crucial work you do.
Meeting room!
Right. Sit down.
I can't resign.
No.
And I'm not going to resign.
I had the perfect moment to,
right early on,
when I could have resigned in a
dignified and statesman-like way,
and you both advised me
not to resign.
So now, I. Can't. Resign.
You shouldn't resign, Peter.
This is going to happen.
One of you has got to go.
I want both of you to give me
reasons why you shouldn't resign.
Erm, because, because, I'm a Special
Advisor to... a... senior cabinet.
That's a job description, Philip.
That's a job description.
That is not a reason.
That's just your job, from which I'm
asking you why you shouldn't resign.
I...know... everything about you.
I am a, a world expert in, in,
in Peter Mannion.
From, er... pin number
to inside leg measurements.
I'm, I'm, I'm there, you know...
What's his inside leg measurements?
34. I've, I've given you
everything, Peter.
You can't, I mean, I don't have
anything else. That's the point.
I don't, I don't have any friends.
I don't have any life.
I haven't had sex for five years,
and I, I don't even enjoy it.
So, you know, I'm not going
to get anyone pregnant.
I'm never going to get anyone
pregnant, OK? I'm fucking seedless.
Where as she's just,
just a fucking baby bomb! OK?
And she's going to go off all over
the office and, and leave you!
I'm going to be here!
I'm sorry, but my good name
is at stake here. Oh, Christ.
Peter, you must understand. I am an
innocent woman. I'm the "DoSac One".
That's it. I've had enough.
I've had enough of all of you.
You're all shit.
I'm going to sort it out, by myself.
Did you hear that?
I can't bear that you think about me
like this. Don't follow me.
No, please!
Stop following me.
I insist, I insist.
Peter, please.
All right, I admit it.
I'm in love with you.
Now fuck off to your office
and organise the wedding.
Mannion goes Mel Gibson.
Spot it.
You know what you've done?
Yeah?
You bought a fan.
You've plugged it in,
you've turned the dial up
to maximum...
It wasn't a weak fan.
Not one of those office fans.
It was a Dyson.
And I stood the other side of it...
Did a liquid shit on it.
Trousers down.
And where did the shit go?
All over Mannion.
That's just priceless.
Fuck, hang on.
What?
Uh, check the fucking emails.
What are you talking about?
What the fuck did you give to Glenn?
Just the email...
But it's the whole... We're on
the email! Oh, fucking hell.
Why did you, why did you leave us
on the dongle?
No, no, no no, no. No! No!
Because he's only supposed to send
the fucking top part of it!
Why did you give him the choice?
Because an email has a chain,
Fergus. It has a chain, and it
goes all the way down.
Adam, there is now shit all over me!
Oh, Jesus Christ!
How come there is shit on me?
Thanks, Adam!
Look, it's not my fucking fault!
He's supposed to redact it!
I just wanted one solid shit,
to go in one direction.
Not Madras, fucking everywhere!
Alastair, yeah, it's Peter Mannion.
I just wanted to give you
a nudge on this.
The real story here isn't
all this jokey email nonsense,
it's that Mr Tickel's medical records
were illegally acquired.
Yeah.
He's been the victim of Mr Blag.
OK. Bye.
Hi. I just... needed a pen.
Would you like a pen?
As a small recompense for the vital,
vital work that you do...
I'll tell you what I'd like.
I'd like a departmental in
ten regarding leakage.
And as of now, your
department's in lockdown.
No emailing, no Diving Bell
and Butterflying,
no communication, nada!
Just a little piece of electric
paper, that's all.
Off the record,
there are a number of machines
that emails can be set to.
Why would I know anything about this
email? Why me? Thank you.
Comms. Off the phones. Now.
Oh, my... I think I've just
perjured myself.
Can you perjure yourself on the
phone, or is it only a court thing?
I'm so sorry for the delay.
I promise it won't be much longer.
And that's not a political promise.
That's a real promise. Ha-ha-ha!
Hey!
2,000-year-old man! Why the fuck did
you send the whole email?! Huh?
You were supposed to redact it,
send the top email,
not the whole fucking exchange.
Jesus Christ on a
crystal meth binge!
Terri and I sent what you gave me.
Terri?!
Why the fuck... The only reason
I'd ever ask Terri for help,
is to shoot me,
if I ever ask Terri for help!
Same reason you gave it to me.
Distance.
Two people! Twice the distance!
Terri doesn't give us any distance!
Terri gives me a twitch! Right here!
Laugh it up, Glenn. I've got
a twitch called Terri!
I am actually here, you know.
Yeah, and that, in a nutshell,
is the whole fucking problem!
♪ Fuck you very much. ♪
Five minutes guys, yeah?
Thanks.
Glenn, what about my tea shop?
It got closed.
There's been a murder.
An inquiry into all of leaking.
All of leaking.
We are so... we are so screwed.
He's done it.
That chinless horse fiddler,
our fucklustrious PM has opened
Pandora's fucking Box and curled
a massive steamer right into it.
In the time it has
taken for Terri to extract
herself from her Bluetooth,
this little inquiry has fused!
It is now growing faster than
the speed of bloody light!
It's not going to be something
that we can see from space.
It's going to be space!
Brian Cox is going to phone me,
and ask for the film rights!
But what leak, what leak,
what fucking leak?!
Anything! If I find out that anyone
from here has leaked anything,
I will make sure they have to
emigrate after this, to a country
where they don't speak English
and there's no internet.
But everyone who leaked anything,
that would fill the
fucking Caspian Sea!
We're just a drop in the ocean here.
No, no, what you are Peter,
is leak zero. It started here.
You have presided over a shambolic
showering of info. Peter Mannion.
"Singin' in The Rain"
Oh, Christ. Hello, Malcolm!
Right, was this your idea?
Because I don't remember
signing any suicide pact.
Malcolm, look. I'm as shocked
about this as you are.
Yes, you sound really shocked,
you big fucking spunk lolly.
I don't even know what that is.
But I, you know, I think we all need
time to, to process this data, yep?
What the fuck is going on?!
All right, Fergus.
What the fuck is going on?
The Ark has been opened.
And your face is going to melt.
There's going to be an inquiry.
Have I just stepped through
a portal into a sausage machine,
because this is making mince
meat of my head.
It's the end of the world
as we know it.
To paraphrase a popular fucking
Bangles song.
It's... it's REM.
Don't start contradicting me
on that kind of shit.
OK, Robyn, it's over to you.
It's show time.
Let's just give it another
five minutes.
There's still a blogger from
the Huffington Post to come.
Is that it?
It looks like a paedophile's
funeral.
It doesn't matter.
We've got to get out of here ASAP.
Leaking is a fundamental component
of our governmental system.
If a government can't leak,
do you know what happens?
Dark shit builds up
and then it bursts.
And that's something you
don't want to see.
You think your appendix was bad.
Hi, and welcome to the launch
of Carer's Pass.
You know, we thought long
and hard about how,
in these straitened times,
we could help those
who don't help themselves,
but rather help others.
Please give it up for The Carers.
This is the gift that's going to go
on giving, believe you me.
So you better keep your head down.
I don't mean just when you're
frequenting your favourite
glory holes.
Well, whereas your closet is
completely free of skeletons
isn't it, Malcolm?
Cos you've buried
them in a landfill in Essex.
Oh, yeah, sorry, and just to say
that we're very proud to say that
this, this policy has been
pushed through by our party.
We do have a voice in this
coalition, and it is being heard.
When this inquiry lands, you'd better
have developed a very flat,
stony face with no expression.
But that'll be easy for you.
It's your fucking come face,
isn't it?
Hi, my name's Rohinka.
OK, when they dry up, just jump in.
Do a quick Q&A and wrap it up, yeah?
Who am I? Fucking Kirsty Wark?
No.
Lead a normal life. So, this
Carers Pass is a blessing, really.
I, Peter Mannion.
Stewart Pearson.
Fergus Williams.
Adam Kenyon.
Emma Florence Messinger.
Philip Bartholomew Cornelius Smith.
Teresa Jessica Coverley.
Robyn Murdoch.
Glenn Cullen.
Oliver Francis Reeder.
Nicola Alison Murray.
I, Malcolm Tucker, do declare that
the evidence I give
will be the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth.