The Thick of It S3E3 Script

Episode #3.3 (2009)

We need to persuade Matt Delaney not to cross the floor.

I think we should use the carrot-and-stick approach, yeah.

You take a carrot, you stick it up his fucking ass, followed by the stick, followed by an even bigger, rougher carrot.

Hello. Hi.


Ah, you got past mad conference security, then?

It's bonkers, isn't it?

It's like trying to get through Israeli customs wearing a T-shirt saying, "I heart bombing Israel."

I know. I mean, I had to wait for an hour and they practically gave me a cavity search.

Aw, only practically?

The sense of disappointment in your voice is almost palpable.

Oh, your bed's bigger than mine.

In fact, your whole room's bigger than mine.

Well, um... Do you want it?

Mr Lova Lova, full marks for foreplay there, Glenn, straight in.

Do I want your room? No, honestly.

I just thought they'd all be the same, sort of vanilla and monotonous.

Did you ask them for your special tiny kettle?

It's an electric thimble.

Maybe the room only looks bigger because Glenn's kettle is so tiny.

So, has our people's champion arrived?

Have you spoken to her? Is she all right?

Oh, no, no, no, she should be over it by now.

Her husband died, what, four months ago?

So, I mean, she's beyond the crying phase.

She's clearly not that over it, Glenn.

She's leading a public campaign to change building regulations.

Yeah, well, you know, seven people died when that cafe collapsed.

She's entitled to her 15 minutes.

How do you think I should, um, mention the tragedy when I talk to her?

Just, um, "Sorry for your loss, "thoughts with you at this very difficult time" yadda yadda yadda, all of, you know...

Not... Without the "yadda yadda yadda" bit, obviously.

And I'm going to need some jokes for my speech.

Oh, do you think that's a good idea?

Not collapsing cafe jokes. No.

That's a shame. I had a bunch of those.

Thought you could call them the Little Chef Seven.

You know, special of the day, crumble!

NICOLA: See, that's not funny.

Howdy doody, Minister. I'm John Duggan, your press officer at the conference.

Oh, hello. Nicola Murray, hi. Hi. How was your holiday?

Ah, well, you know, we wanted to go to Florida, but Malcolm suggested we went to Suffolk, and so the kids were miserable, weather was miserable, and Malcolm rang and shouted at me for looking miserable.

I saw the photo, uh, in the wellies next to the horse.

"Why the long face?" It was funny. Or not, depending on your perspective.

Still, things are looking up. You're in Eastbourne now, which really is the jewel in the crown of our shit seaside resorts.

Clacton of the Southwest, they call it.

Um, anyway, I'm here to meet Julie Prince.


That's the fellow. She's the, uh... The applause monkey.

(LAUGHING) That's funny, "the applause monkey".

Show some respect, for fuck's sake. Her husband's just died.

I'm so sorry. Glenn, you're quite right. I will now observe a moment's silence.

John, do you know what the Wi-Fi password is?

I don't know what it is. No?

No. You've been here...

I know, I've just... I'm very busy. Haven't really had time.

I mean, I assure you, despite the calm exterior, I am not waving but drowning.

John, are you across this thing about, um, Peter Mannion lining up a second holiday?

Um, Mannion, right, yeah.

Peter Mannion, my opposite number, you know?

Yes. Okay, good.

So you're going to push that for the press for me, yeah?

'Cause I just want to remind people that while he's criticising us over the recession, he's, you know, swanning around on his friend's massive yacht.

Oh, okay. "He's gay."

Oh, for fuck... OLLY: No, not gay.

It's a hypocrisy thing.

(STAMMERS) Yeah, well, I mean, in principle yeah, but it is conference, so my to-do list is longer than a big willy.

John, without wishing to sound blunt...

Um, actually, you know what? Fuck it, let's sound blunt.

It is your job.

I'll do what I can. That is a Duggan promise.

He's not going to do it, is he? Absolutely fucking useless.

He's completely not going to do it.

I think the reason he's got that fringe is so that he hides the lobotomy scars.

Is that right? I'm absolutely certain of it.

So, what's the beard for?

Who is she, by the way? Oh, hello again.

Olly, right? Yes.

She was married to one of those guys who died when that cafe collapsed.

She's not going to be crying or anything, is she?

Get enough of that at home, right?


Glenn says that she's changed her Facebook status to "single and up for it", which I believe is actually why Glenn brought her here in the first place.

Listen, John, there's an outside chance that she may just prefer to meet a human being, so I'm going to come down with you.

Good idea. You can buy her a coffee, you can...

You could maybe buy her a "collapsuccino".

Might bring back memories of her latte husband.

As in late husband.

We're like Dick and Dom, aren't we? Great chemistry.

Except neither one of you are Doms.

Terri, hi, it's me.

Have you read up about this Peter Mannion second holiday thing on the Dig Deep blog?

No, no, I haven't actually seen that. Where's he off to?


So, could you make a few phone calls?

See if you can get it some press traction?

I'm sorry, I just can't do that.

That's a party political matter.

You're going to have to get John Duggan onto that, 'cause it's his responsibility.

Trouble is, Terri, that the only thing John Duggan is doing here is depriving a village somewhere of a twat.

Ah, yes, I've heard he's about as useless as a chocolate teapot.

Although I probably shouldn't say that, sounds a bit racist, doesn't it?

Where are you, Terri?

I'm just on the way down to Hastings to see my sister.

Poor thing, having some trouble shifting a piano.

So what I'm doing is I'm working from home today.

No, you're not working and you're not at home, so as my 16-year-old would say, you are totally busted.


We're really thrilled to have you on board.

Although, of course, terribly sad about your news at the same time.

Yeah, right, um... Yeah.

You are?

John Duggan, press officer. It is an honour.

Well, maybe that's pushing it a bit far.

But, I mean, it's always very nice to meet a civvie, a normal, as it were.

So have you, um, seen the charms of Eastbourne, whatever they may be?

Not really. I've been working on me speech.

You've got a speech?

Right, well, what, no problem. We'll just have to get it cleared.

Uh, do you have a copy of it on you?

Sorry about your loss, of your husband, in the collapse of that... of that cafe.



Okay, right, what have we got on the workplace gym reward scheme?

Uh, fighting obesity is one of the biggest challenges we face, sleepwalking into a crisis, ticking time bomb...

You write almost entirely in generic, meaningless buzz words, don't you?

I could take it more street, if you prefer.

"You is all proper bloaters and it is well gay, beeyatch."

But, you know, this is...

I just don't want to come across all nanny-state and sort of...

"Death By Chocolate is not a funny name for a pudding.

"It's a real and genuine concern." You know?

I don't want to give the press another opportunity to see me as Mrs Sour Power Vinegar Tits sucking on a lemon.

Fine, I understand. So we'll sugar-coat it.

Well, leaven it, ideally, with a couple of jokes.

Yeah, all right, no problemo.

Now... Now? Jokes now? Yeah.

Okay, how about, "We want people to be fit, not fit to burst"?

Gonna have to go down the slapstick route, aren't I?

Do the speech straight, but dressed as Freddie Starr's Hitler.

I mean, these are the worst pictures I've seen, really, they are.

I don't know who was taking them.

Roy fucking Orbison you've got doing that.

Oh, Malcolm? Yeah.

Have you seen Rob Holt's blog today?

Oh, yeah, of course. Yeah, I read Rob Holt's blog.

I read all the blogs.

'Cause basically I'm an underemployed, fat fucking loser.

Got nothing better to do with my time than sit in my bedroom like a fat space-hopper in a tracksuit, reading inconsequential, unspellchecked shit fabricated by other fat, farting, fucking losers.

Well, he's saying that the big health numbers in the PM's speech, they're from a false sample.

Apparently, they're lifted from Andrew Dover's blog, not from the ONS.

I wouldn't take any notice of it. There's nothing in that at all.

Nothing in it?

Nothing at all. I'll catch yous later, okay?

Sam, the health stats fuck-up is out there.

And I don't know who's doing it, but I want his balls on a fucking plate.

Well, I don't know. Google "goolies".

Nicola, this is Julie.

Thank you so much for joining us. What you're doing is really important.

Well, hi, I'm your regional photo opportunity for the day.

(LAUGHING) That's... That's not...

That's not the way it is. I hope you appreciate that.

I was just kidding. That's a good joke.

Oh, good, and that's what we need in this room right now.

Good joke, yeah.

Um, Julie's written a speech.

Oh, right, for today? Yeah.

What's that about, then?

Well, basically, I start by kind of doing a tribute to me husband, Jason.

Uh-huh. And then we'll move on to the campaign.

Um, we'll get to the middle section and I just really want to tell everyone how we're trying to take that bastard to court, you know.

Yeah. You'll get that opportunity.

Me and six women, whose husbands have died, we're trying our best to do him. But you know what that bastard did?

Tell me.

He sent everyone off the site and he changed the equipment, you know.

He changed it to the actual, proper legal equipment.

So obviously, we've got no proof. What, overnight?

Yeah, overnight. My God.

He's clever. What a bastard. What a bastard.

And oh, God, I am sweating like a fat lass.

Are you... Maybe this isn't a great room for you to be in.

We've got to write some stupid jokes about a rich bloke on a yacht.

I mean, that's so trivial...

I've got more to tell you. Yeah, I want to hear it.

There's not... Just a of couple pages. I want to hear it.

Yeah, we'll knock off this stuff and then I'm with you.

Nice to meet you.

Olly's a lovely guy. He'll look after you.

Yeah, look, I'm sorry, chief, but there's no way that I can spin these health stats. They're fucked.

We'll have to put something else in the speech.

Yeah, no, I don't know.

Um, well, what about the missus? Can we wheel her out again?

Well, she basically has that thing of appearing to be a normal human being.

That seems to play well.

Oh, hey, Malc, how's it hanging?

Like the Gardens of Babylon. Good.

Do you know where Lord Clarkham's room is?

I'm gonna go and try and stick his balls in his fucking trouser press.

Right. I see you've pulled.

Uh, look, um, this is Julie Price.

She is, uh, the people's champion that Nicola is announcing in her speech.

Julie Price...

I'm so sorry for your loss.

Hey, you're being looked after well enough, yeah?

Yeah, not bad.


You stick with Olly. He's... You know, he's a good guy.

I know he looks a bit like an anorexic Leo Sayer there, but...

Listen, could I have a photograph taken with you?

Who, me? Yeah.

I've got a little collection of memories, you know. Mandela and stuff.

Olly, would you be so kind as to do the honour, good sir?

Do you mind if I... You all right?

Just... Fucking hurry up. All right.

You're a stunner, ye. Thank you. No, you're a stunner.

You really are. Very impressive.

I'm not the only one who finds you impressive.

The PM, he finds you very impressive.

That's good. Well, great.

I think that there is a point in his speech today...


...where he would be very honoured to introduce you.

OLLY: Um...

Is that something that would interest you?

Yeah. Yes, it might clash, though, with, uh, with Nicola's championing of Julie's cause.

Oh, God, look, the nerves are getting to us.

I need to use your bog.

Well, that's the ladies there.

Malcolm, you can't... You can't do that.

She's our bonus track. She's our DVD Easter egg.

We need her for the speech.

Boo-fucking-hoo. Can do and have done.

Yes, but that... What, in two hours, two hours, think of a whole new speech?

Oh, welcome to the men's room!

Jesus Christ, listen. It's this simple, right?

If she goes on with Nicola, she'll be watched by 15 housebound mouth-breathers.

Oh, and by the ever-swelling ranks of the unemployed who fucking hate us, by the way.

But if she goes on with Tom, she'll make the 10:00 news, right?

Julie, hi. Feel better?

Yeah, good. Yes.

Now, what's it gonna be, Julie darling?

Do you want to go with the teasmaid or with the caravan?

I'm going with the caravan. That is the Prime Minister?

That is the Prime Minister, yes.

Sorry, Olly. It's nice to meet you. Julie, this way, come on.

MALCOLM: Are you actually in the hotel, or are you staying...

"So, joking aside..." Of course, we haven't fucking got those yet.

I know. Whatever they are, right...

Right, right. "It's now my great pleasure..."

We're just doing the... No, no, no, listen.

Um, listen! What?

You know when something, well, something bad, but you know when something bad happens and you think it's not as bad as...

What's happened? GLENN: Where's Julie?

Malcolm's commandeered Julie for the PM's speech.

We bumped into each other and he...

What do you mean, he's commandeered her?

You're supposed to be looking after her, for fuck's sake.

No, no, no, no, no, he hasn't. No.

We can't even fucking trust you to babysit!

Malcolm took her... Just say no!

You don't just say no... What part of "no" don't you understand?

Babysitting isn't a fucking...

Fucking fuck Malcolm! Fuck Malcolm!

Fuck Malcolm! Fuck Malcolm! Fuck Malcolm!

Well, um, that was my, uh, initial reaction, as well.

GLENN: Deep breath, Nicola.

Yes, I know. Thank you. Thank you. Fuck off! Thank you.

Right, yes. What do you want us to do?



Do you want your Rescue Remedy? No, fuck off!

Get me some ketamine. I want to separate my mind from my body.

Jesus Christ, poor Nicola.

I'm going to go and talk to the bastard.

Yes. Take some reasonable...

Yeah, that's right, rip your shirt off! Go on, Braveheart! Freedom!

Oh, are you a texter? Yeah, I'll be with you in a minute.

Listen, just casually mention it to Alan Dunn and, uh, Lindsay Anorexi at The Mail, that the PM has brought Julie Price to the conference.

That's not strictly true, though, is it?

Yeah, well Strictly Come Dancing isn't strictly dancing, is it?

They also have a bit at the beginning where an old man dribbles. So what?

Well, I didn't really follow that. Um, my point is...

Oh, Glenn, right. Okay, mate, look, I can see that you're a tad peeved.

I'm not having it. You've gone too far.

Hey, get a grip, Glenn. I didn't fucking come in your mouth.


Are you in on this?

Oh, God, no, no, I'm just obeying orders, you know, like a Nazi guard.

Only in a non-gassy way. You're not Jewish, are you?

No. Oh, good.

Can you just take her? Oh, yeah, uh...

Why don't you go in here? There's some important people and biscuits in there.

Have a coffee. Didn't mean to bring back bad memories.

What are you on about? Your husband dying in a cafe.

You can't just take her! That's people-trafficking!

Am I being threatened by Harold fucking Bishop?

No, Malcolm... Okay, guys, can we just...

Oh, shit, wow, here's the beige fucking Power Ranger now.

Yeah, and we're taking her back!

Do not make this a disciplinary issue. You hear me, soldier?

I found her. I fucking found her! She was on the fucking news!

Get this guy out of here! Can we get a bit more sane about this?

It is not a fucking discussion.

Right, nobody argue.

I am going to go in there and I am going to take her!

You will fucking not! Fuck off! Fuck... jesus Christ!

Oh, my God. You've hurt yourself.

I've got so much on, as it is. You hit me!

I did not hit you!

I went to hit the fucking wall and pulled my fist back and hit you in the fucking face instead.

I think you've broken my nose.

No, no, that's just a scratch, mate.

Noses can't break, anyway. That's a myth.

What the fuck are you talking about? Look, look, just lean forward.

You know, you want the blood to flow out of your nose, not down your throat like a fucking gurgling drain.

Don't touch me! Look at him.

Have you got a hanky? You go look after Julie, right?

John, let's get Glenn back to his room. Okay, yeah.

Nobody saw that, did they?

No, it's like when a fight starts, you're just like, "Fight, fight, fight!"

All right? All right? Lf we can just get...

Is he okay? He's all right.

He's fine. He's just got a nosebleed.

Say, you... Yeah.

Lf you breathe a word of this, right? Mmm-hmm.

Listen to me, Richard fucking Stilgoe, you fucking jazzy bastard!

I am listening.

Help me here! Let's get fucking Noses Supposes back to his fucking...

Where is he? I don't know.

Jesus Christ! Come on!

Yeah, it's all right, don't worry. It's all... No, no, no.

Oh, my God! Glenn, what happened?

Well, I don't think Malcolm saw my point of view.

Fair point. I got punched.

Oh, that is a lot of blood. OLLY: It is.

Is that normal?

We need a cold press or... Have you got... Is there ice?

What about the minibar? Is there any... Yeah.

Oh, God that's just... Oh, my God, everything's tiny!

Are you having a turn, Glenn? No, I mean the can is tiny.

Oh, okay, right, sorry. The kettle is tiny.

Yeah, come and sit down. Come and sit down.

Oh, that's better.

Um, oh, you look like a squeezed doughnut.

Right, we need a flannel and some hot water.

So I'll boil the kettle. Look, I'm not having a baby.

No, no, and anyway, it's a bloody nano-kettle.

Yes, there is a hot tap, Nicola.

There's a hot tap! Jesus, what am I like?

I mean, I could make you a cup of tiny tea.

Um, so, there's the... Right.

What, you want me to... Okay, I'll have a go.

Um, put your head back...

No, I think Malcolm said forward.

Forward. Is it forward? Forwards. Yeah, forwards.

I don't know. I mean, I've always had childcare.

So, um, can you...

Try and keep the bloody handkerchief away from my dress, if you don't mind.

Oh, dear, it looks very sore.

I'm assuming we lost our people's champion, yeah?

Well, it felt like a no to me. Did it feel like a no to you, Glenn?

Um, I think a no.

I'm so fucked. I mean, I've got an hour and a half.

With all due respect, Nicola, there's a human aspect to all this.

I know, I know, and you were very brave.

Just look. Realistically, there is so little I can do about it.

And I've just got to write a fucking speech.

So, Olly, could you get on with that? Yes, yes.

Glenn, why don't you come to my room and lie down?

Put a towel down on the bed, just for...

Jesus, Malcolm! What? Oh, God!

How's the patient?

I don't want to speak to you right now, Malcolm.

I think you should leave.

Oh, do you? Yes.

What, are you gonna hit me? I don't fucking hit women.

Except Glenn, obviously.

Just you fucking leave Glenn out of this.

Glenn's been through enough as it is.

Listen, mate, I'm really... I'm really sorry, right?

I'm really sorry about what happened in the heat of the fucking moment, yeah?

I'm under a lot of pressure right now, I'm trying to plug a lot of leaks.

I had my finger in the dyke, but the dyke's very, very squirty.

Is it Fat Pat? I heard that she's, uh...

Shut up.

We're old soldiers, right? This is life in wartime, okay?

I mean, every now and then you're going to get an incident of friendly fire.

Yeah? Yeah.

Good man. Yes, good...


Now that you've lost Geordie Julie, the merry fucking widow, you've got a hole in your speech.

Right, so have we got a contingency for that?

Yeah, we'll figure it out, thank you. Well, look, why don't I help you?

Let's roll some tits up the flagpole and see if anyone gets wood.

NICOLA: Oh, Christ.

It's like being trapped in a fucking boys' toilet.

Right, all we've got is Mannion's second holiday.

We need to take the piss out of that.

Okay, how about, uh, he's called Peter "Two Holidays" Mannion?

MALCOLM: Glenn, um...

He, um, works really hard at planning his holidays.

That's really fucking quality fucking explosive sarcasm you're lobbing at them, mate. Boom.

I feel I'm in a therapy group being run by my own rapist.

Right, well, okay, how about... (MOBILE RINGING)

Oh, my God. It's got out.

No, really? I thought it was room service cold-calling.

Who the fuck is leaking this out there?

Find out who's pissing this over the wall.

Yeah, well, the thing about the internet, Malcolm, is it's quite big, so... It's on Rob Holt's blog!

I don't know what he looks like. I don't...

You need to get your people's champion out of this hotel before some tabloid minge-flannel starts soft-soaping her.

So we've got her back again now. Is that right?

Don't be so fucking touchy about this! I've a lot to fucking deal with here.

My responsibility again now. Doesn't matter about the speech.

That's fine, Malcolm.

Yeah, it does fucking matter!

Women, huh? Women! Slam the door. Where did this idea come from, huh?

Wilma! Fuck off.

NICOLA: I'm making a phone call. Make a phone call.

Phone a fucking friend.


Terri, it's Nicola again. We're at DEFCON 1.

Or 5, or whichever the really bad one is.

You stupid pillock! Oh, boy racers.

Terri, can you harness that anger and bring it down to Eastbourne, please?

I desperately need you to come down and help me.

The problem is this party political problem, because I'm a civil servant and I cannot possibly be seen to have anything to do with a party conference.

Terri, please, I'm standing in a factory that makes fans, right?

And a man has walked in with a giant shit-spraying machine, and you happen to be bunking off work and not very far away, so I need you here.

Listen, I've got a cagoule in the back, and I could come incognito with the hood up, if that's going to help you out.

This is what my life's come to, exchanging hostages round the back of a hotel.

Yeah, very nice to meet you, Julie. And you.

Thank you so much for coming with me. That's all right.

The cruddiest spy film ever. The Eastbourne Ultimatum.


We thought we might just get you out of the hot seat, you know.

I'm allergic to dogs. NICOLA: Look at us! Look...

OLLY: Come on! She's got a dog with her.

Yeah, that's Max. She's got a fucking dog with her.

Yeah, he's diabetic. Four shots a day. Can't leave him anywhere.

Why is she... Just get in!

JULIE: As long as we're not in the car very long.

Now the dog's going in. Is she going to put Julie in the boot?

I'm going to ring her.

Excuse me. You're phone's ringing.


Get a fucking move on.

Where are you?

Never mind where I am.

I can see you, and you're not in the car and you're not driving away and you should be, so fuck off!

Glenn, come on, you have a bit more. All right, Malcolm.

Go on. Just watch your step. I don't want you tripping up again, eh?



D-Day. What is it, Malcolm?

I thought you were one of the boxers, not the emcee.

No, no, no, it's just, you know, I've got to show my face at a few receptions this evening.

Including the Rod Hughes do for Tom.

Believe me, I'd rather slip into something a bit more comfortable, like a fucking coma.


Malcolm, you've started beating up your own guys.

That has to be a bad sign.

I didn't fight fucking Glenn. Oh, why would I do that?

Anyway, you've got absolutely no proof that I did.

Yeah, whatever you say, Malcolm.

Look at this! He doesn't flinch, does he?


We have a laugh, that's all.

No, we're mates. We're pals, look.

And look at the size of him. I wouldn't fucking hit him.

I mean, look, he's a fucking man-mountain.

Hey, you saying I'm fat? That's the banter.

"Government department...

"The government..." Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!

How can I learn this when you're still writing it? I feel sick.

No, it's exciting. It's good. It's really good.

In fact, I would say the fact that you're hearing it for the first time when you say it will possibly give it a freshness and a zing, you know...

You think? Yes.

This is politics as it is, isn't it? It's The West Wing.

You're not Josh, Olly. Just write the fucking speech.

It doesn't matter.

Come on, Nicola. Pull yourself together.

I fucking am Josh.

Nicola Murray can do this. Come on.

Wow, did you just refer to yourself in the second and third person? 'Cause they're both...

Write the fucking speech. Right, okay, yes.

I'm just slightly distracted by all the Nicola Murrays in the room.

Hello, Malcolm.

Shite to see you, to see you... Shite!

Come with me.

Oh, is this going to take long, Malcolm? 'Cause I'm really up against it.

Um, you're looking very dapper, by the way, very nice, like as if there'd been a Scottish James Bond.

Shut the fuck up.

Okay, why are we coming in here?

I know you leaked the punch story.


Don't call it that. Where did you hear that?

Well, somebody said it was called Fistygate.

I said, "I didn't realise it was called that."

Fuck. Fuck me!

I didn't leak anything, Malc, I swear to God.

You're not going to tweezer me, are you?

No, no, no. I'm just going to fucking kill you.


Because you told some spotty-faced blogger that I hit Glenn.

But I didn't. But you would say that.

It can't have been me. I'd know if it was me.

(MOCKING) "It can't have been me. I'd know if it was me."

Malcolm, you're really scaring me now.

I'm scaring you? I'm so sorry I'm fucking scaring you.

I mustn't scare you, must I?

I won't scare you, okay?

I'll just explain what I'm going to fucking do to you.

I'm going to take your bollocks, I'm going to fucking rip them off, I'm going to fucking paint eyeballs on them and I'm going to stitch them onto a fucking sock and use that as a mouthpiece.

Hope this is real vinegar.


Sure you don't want a chip?

Don't you know any jokes?

I'll tell you what, the chips down south are a joke.

I'll text me mate, I'll see if she knows any.

You're texting her now, though, your friend?

No, I'm tweeting.

Tweeting? You mean, like Twitter?

Just, um... just want to get a pickled egg. Hang on a sec.

Hi, Terri. Hi, listen, it's Julie.

She tweets.

Hang on. Julie tweets? What does that mean?

Twitter. Tweets on Twitter. It's like a social networking site.

You type in a text but it goes to anybody, and anyone in the world can access it.

And she's... She's tweeting now, is she?

TERRl: She tweeted...

Right, find out what she's saying.



She's singing like a canary.

She's twittering about Terri.

Listen, it's too hot for me here. I've got to get out.

NICOLA: All right. Look, I want out, Nicola.

Okay, Terri, calm down. I'm going to ring Malcolm.

This is no good for fucking pacing.

Malcolm, Nicola. Julie tweets.

Tweets on Twitter. She's on Twitter.

She tweets on Twitter.

Christ on a cross-trainer, Nicola. Julie is the fucking leak.

I told you.

Get her back here, right now, so I can loofah her to death.

Oh, what a day.

Is that her? Oh, no. Two blokes.

Are you sure you don't want one?

You mightn't get another chance to eat all day.

That is literally mashed-up Dalmatian head and sawdust, you know that?

Is it?

On the other hand, I am fucking starving.

Oh, here comes Checkpoint Charlie.

She's over there.

I'm really sorry... Yes, well, the apology's noted.

Noted? Not accepted?

No, not accepted, noted.

Oh, you look awful.

Thanks. Oh, do you want a chip?

I haven't got time for chips, Glenn.

Listen, this is open territory here. I'm a sitting duck.

All right, let's go, let's go. I've got to get out.

No one will recognise your cover. She's over there.

Okay, we'll look after her.

Come in, ladies. Home again, home again. Jiggety-jig.


Right, I'm just going to use the loo.

Right, okay.

Julie? Yeah.

Would you like a cup of tea?

Well, I might as well. There's bott all else to do.


Squeeze my cock and call me Nancy.

Were you born in a barn, Glenn?

Keep the door and your ass cheeks fucking tightly closed, right?

Jesus Christ, that's a tiny kettle, Glenn.

But then you know what they say. Where's glummy mummy?

Uh, she's having a pee.

Julie, how you doing? All right? Yeah, I'm great.

Busy, busy, busy. Lovely.

Oh, fucking hell, Malcolm!

Julie, darling, could we just have a wee word with you?

Why? What's going on?

Do you know a guy called Rob Holt?

I've never heard of him. Why? What's this about?

Well, it's just that he's one of your followers on... Twitter?


And I think that some of your... Tweets.

The tweets that you've been doing... Yeah?

They've actually been reported out there.

Well, what are you accusing us of?

No, no, we're not accusing you of anything.

You look like you're accusing us of something.

You fucking sound like you're accusing us of something.

No, no, no. I've seen Spooks.

You have treated me like a bag of shit all day!

I mean, I'm a very, very patient person, but I have had yous lot up to here.

I should have known not to trust yous lot, when yous fucked over them Metric Martyrs.

All I was trying to do was right by my Jason, right?

And if he was here now, he'd be fucking appalled by the way yous lot are carrying on.

He always said you were a useless bunch of wankers.

Oh, hello. Oh, you're back. Excellent. Ha!

Every epic needs a hero.

Put tiny kettle on, lad. I'm gasping.

Every... Everything okay? What's, uh... What's going on?

Uh, Malcolm, um, if you could just come to the toilet with me...

NICOLA: Get rid of her.

MALCOLM: Okay, we go out there, we say our goodbyes, and I'll get Glenn to go and do the fucking desert burial, okay?


MALCOLM: You just try and compose yourself.




Get rid of the Geordie Pauline Fowler.

Put her on the train back to Shit Town or wherever the fuck she came from.

Right, would you like to come with me? Uh, there's been a change of plan.

I'm taking them for the train.

No wonder the country's gone to the fucking dogs.

You, you two, you'll not be there for long.

Okay, do we have anything that we can use against her?

There's, um, the Metric Martyr stuff.

Yeah, that is right-wing.

That's really... That's an insanity signifier.

Fruit by the pound? Well...

That's what I've got to work with? Fuck's sake.

Fruit by the pound. Watch and fucking learn, okay?

We say that we're dropping her because of extremist views, right?

We just don't mention that those extreme views are about how she feels about the fucking finer points of fruit and fucking veg merchandise.

You shouldn't work for that lot, you know.

I know. They're all knobs.

I know, I know. I don't really, you know...

Did you... Did you enjoy anything about today?


NICOLA: You've definitely taken out all the references to the people's champion?

Yep, yep, yep, and I've added a whole page on Mannion's holiday, plus jokes.

Funny jokes! Funny jokes! Funny jokes.

I'm a funny man. I have my texts read out on 5 Live.

NICOLA: Very good. Is it done?

Glenn, what have you touched? I haven't touched anything.

I didn't do anything.

Guys, the Wi-Fi's out. What page were we up to?

Eight. Excellent.

You're watching Nicola's speech with me and Angela Heaney.

You're my brother from another mother and that's the kind of thing we do.

Oh, sounds like a lot of fun.

Yeah, it will be fun. I bought us some punch.

You'd better get a move on. You're late.

I know, I know, I know.

Right, grab the speech. Oh, there you go. Good luck.

Thank you. GLENN: Fingers crossed. Have fun!

They grow up so fast, eh?

Right, go, go, go, go, go!

Oh, my God, look.

How did the Vodcast with Helen Mirren go?

Yo, twat features! Hang on.

I mean that literally.

This Julie Price woman, turns out she's a little bit fucking unstable, you know.

Extremist views. So we're going to have to let her go.

Uh, of course, it's just that, um...

Andrew Dover, the blogger?

So he's just going to go and spread that all over the internet, yeah?

Well, probably.

Job done!

I'm away for a game of crazy golf. Love those fucking windmills.

Hit the full stops. Don't run through anything.

I don't know what that means, hit the full stops.

Just stop... Hit... Stop at the full stops.

It'll sound good in the hall.

I won't gabble. You're putting me off. It's not too long.

NICOLA: Local people finding their own solutions, having a real say...

She looks lovely.

... over the future of the places where they live.

(APPLAUSE) GLENN: Well done. Well done, indeed.

Some lovely stuff in there, I thought.

GLENN: Yeah.

I thought it was pretty good, actually, yeah.

Praise indeed from the Scottish Simon Cowell.

Nicola... Thank you.

What happened to the jokes? I didn't say the jokes?

I think Glenn may have given me the wrong number on the printer.

We missed a whole page of Mannion jokes.

Not... Not my fault.

I said, "Where are we up to?" You said eight. I printed from nine.

You said, "Where are we up to?" So I said eight.

Yes, but we were up to seven, weren't we?

Well, you should have gone from eight. You went from nine?

That would have been quite good 'cause that would've just added a wee bit of Bob Hope, you know, to all the doom and the gloom.

Maybe next time, huh?

OLLY: You said we were up to page eight but we were...

GLENN: No, I didn't. I said "from eight".