I mean, if you've been offered a job, we better start looking around ourselves.

You can't start planning an exit from this department. That would undermine me.

Nicola, there's someone called Hannah on line three, she's from the Centre of Economic...

Thank you, please scram. Sod off.

Get out, don't go looking for jobs.

So, what d'you reckon? Sod that, we've got to put some feelers out.

But we'll do it discreetly. Yeah, like you do on the Tube.

I suppose it is the end now for you two, the full stop.

After all those commas, a few little semi-colons on the way.

I wouldn't be quite so smug, Terri.

Because I heard from very good sources that the opposition will be getting the Fucker in.

Yep, that's what I heard too.

They're definitely getting the Fucker in. I haven't heard that.

The Fucker, he coming. He coming to your town.

You do know why they call him the Fucker, don't you, Terri?

Yes. Sorry, not you.

Is it because he's a bit of a fucker?

It's not going to be easy for Peter Mannion.

He's not going to be reading The Wind In The Willows, sipping camomile tea.

He's going to have a crash helmet, bent over, doing his best

to be heard over a force 10 fucking from the Fucker. Piers, hello.

Hello, Philip Schofield.

I fuck lobsters for money.

Take the rice first. Thank you.

I want you to be very clear, Malc, why it is that I've brought you in.

That fine, that's fine. D'you know what hat it is that I'm wearing?

Is it your baldy swimming cap wig?

No, it's my government trouble-shooter Stetson,

which is a long way from my Homburg of sober inquiry.

Do you know I'm thinking about doing a television programme?

I had heard something on the grapevine.

You know that programme Civilisation with Kenneth Clarke? Yes.

It's going to be like that, except with fucking more quim, you know?

It's me, Simon Schama and Alan Yentob,

in a cage, fucking lump hammer each, whacking the shit out of each other.

The last man standing wins a fucking Ford Focus.