Watch.

You see what I'm doing?

I'm eating the onion bhajee.

Why?

Because I'm the man that makes the bhajee go away.

There's a rumour that you're getting the Fucker in. Are you lot getting the Fucker in?

Look, if you are, just say the word "Fucker." Uh...

Hey! I'll call you back.

Tintin's sexy sister.

You're back. Are you back? I'm back like ballroom dancing.

And I need your help, my little...Fuckbob Shitpants.

Right. Well, OK.

I need you to hook me up to a printer. I need a printer.

All right. I wont do any blow-job jokes if you don't, mate.

Yeah. Copy that...mate.

Just because somebody has to kill people for a living doesn't make them a killer.

Do you know what I mean? Not hugely, Malcolm, no.

Anyway, what's the story, fuckanory? What's been happening?

Nothing much, really. Just...

The only bit of turbulence is this job Nicola's thinking of taking.

Yale, apparently. The key people?

No, the university.

There's a think-tank there that's approached her.

I don't think that would be a good idea. Do you?

Well, she seems pretty set on it.

Do you think that would be a good idea?

I'll have a word with her. Yeah, have a word with her. Yeah.

So you're not going to ask me how I'm getting on?

Sorry, that's very rude. How are you getting on, Malcolm? How are you?

Well...good days and bad days. Right.

Steve Fleming's...

I don't, you know...

The guy is... I fucking despise the guy.

I despise him as much as fucking James May presumably despises himself.

I'm glad he's getting a fucking death sentence in Nicholas' report.

Ah, death sentence for Fleming?