Episode 5 The Thick of It

This programme contains strong language and adult humour from the start.

-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.

PHONE RINGS

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.

PHONE RINGS

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.

PHONE BEEPS

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.

PHONE RINGS

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"

PHONE RINGS

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.