In the Loop

Good morning, my little chicks and cocks.

Malcolm, monitoring... All the usual.

How did your team do at the weekend?

- All right, yeah, we won. - Wanker.

Sam, morning. How are you?

Well, pop-pickers, what disc shall we start with today?

Wonky Ron or how about Simon Foster?

On the Eddie Mair PM programme on the BBC.

Well, I'm joined by Simon Foster,

the Minister for International Development.

You've been in the job for 18 months.

Do you think you're making headway?

Yes, I do.

You'd expect me to say that, I suppose.

Mark.

You're co-ordinating the Millennium Goals press release?

Co-ordinate it better, please.

Is that the minister?

OK.

Have we heard anything from Malcolm about last night's interview?

No, not yet.

- Perhaps he didn't hear it. - Or maybe he's dead.

He might be dead!

He might have finally had that massive stroke he's been heading for.

It's been in the fucking post.

Preventable sickness in many of the poorest countries around the world.

And of course, the big one is diarrhoea...

Ah, diarrhoea. This is the Minister for International Development.

He should be talking about food parcels,

not fucking arse-spraying mayhem.

So if we can tackle the easy things like diarrhoea, then we can...

Oh, say it again. Yes, very good.

What is this, the shitting forecast?

...hopefully that will strike another blow

in the war against preventable diseases.

- You mentioned the word "war '; - Steady, Eddie.

Against prevent able diseases.

All the evidence now points to

a US military intervention in the Middle East.

Is that your view?

Well, personally, I think that war is unforeseeable.

Sam. Sam!

- Unforeseeable? - Yes.

No, you do not think that!

Sam, I'm going to have to go

to International Development to pull Simon Foster's fucking hair.

He did not say "unforeseeable".

You may have heard him say that, but he did not say that.

And that is a fact.

Now, he's gonna want you to row back

on that "unforeseeable" thing on Question Time tonight.

On Question Time, you know the funny question they always have at the end?

Yes.

I think we should prep that now.

Cos I'd like to shine on the funny question.

I'm a funny guy, with a light touch.

There's this guy, he's a property tycoon. He bought a South Sea island.

It might be something like that. If you had to spend the rest of your life

on a desert island with someone, who would it be with?

Well... I can't say my wife cos I haven't got one.

I can't say my girlfriend, because I haven't got one of those either.

- And don't say Mandela. That's... - No, no, boring. And a bloke.

Or Keira Knightley.

That's a good idea.

Pervert. Sex. Minister. People don't want to know.

I don't think so.

Did you take the washing out of the machine?

- No. - What do you mean "no"?

No, I didn't take the washing out of the machine.

- It's gonna go really stale... - It'll be fine.

- It's not fine. - It's fine. I'll wear stale pants.

I don't want to go out with someone in stale pants.

Well, there we go. I could go commando.

But I don't think that's accepted in government.

Have you got everything you need for your first day?

Oh, yes, all in here. My massive intellect

and an apple for Simon Foster.

Simon "Fluster", don't you mean?

Don't call him that. I'm rebranding him.

He was absolutely crap on the radio last night.

He sounded like a chicken with a wasp up its arse.

You give me a week, I'll have him sounding

like a chicken without a wasp up its arse.

Good luck at the Foreign Office. Try not to annoy Russia.

- See you later. - See you later.

I'll give you a call later. Keep your phone on.

- Be careful. Cars. - Oh, really? Thanks for that.

Helpful...

OK, OK, go ahead and print "unforeseeable".

Listen, assume I tell your wife

about you and Angela Heaney at the Blackpool conference,

what would be best, an e-mail, a phone call or what?

I could write it on a cake! With those little silver balls.

"Your hack husband betrayed you on October 4th...

and congratulations on the new baby."

Yeah, maybe it's better to spike it, yeah.

OK, fuckity bye.

Did you put away the lasagne?

Yes, of course, it's in the fridge.

It's got Clingfilm on it and everything.

Why did you put Clingfilm on it?

Because that keeps it fresh. That's the point of Clingfilm.

No, I don't want to hold.

It might dry out.

That's an amateur mistake.

I'm not holding any longer. What's he waiting for, a fucking sex change?

It's not carcinogenic.

What, Simon Foster?

Clingfilm doesn't give you cancer.

Diarrhoea Of A Nobody. I like that.

- Aluminium foil... - Apropos of that...

...gives you AIDS, or, you know, lasagne gives you syphilis.

- It's not a thing. - No, you relax!

God, who's that?

Get me fucking Brian!

If you don't get me fucking Brian, I'm gonna come over there.

I'm gonna lock you in a fucking flotation tank

and pump it full of sewage until you fucking drown.

- Paris Hilton. - Are you serious?

- Lily Allen. - No, no women.

- Yeah? - The Olsen twins.

- Thank you. - Who's that?

- Malcolm. He's coming to see you. - Oh, shit, he's still alive.

- When's he due? - Now!

And don't say you weren't prepared, because I rang ahead.

Give us a minute, could you, please, love?

In the words of the late, great Nat King fucking Cole,

unforeseeable, that's what you are.

Who's that geezer?

Oh, I know who he is.

You're Dan, right?

- Daniel? The new adviser? - Toby.

Toby. Oh. Sorry about the "Dan" thing.

You guys are often called "Dan" so it's worth a punt.

I'm Judy, by the way. Judy Molloy.

Director of Communications for International Development.

Is this a normal morning?

The minister was rubbish on last night's interview...

- He was rubbish? - Yes. Rubbish.

Come on, Malcolm, he asked me for... for a personal opinion.

Why didn't you say? He asked you. Fuck, of course, that explains it.

If he'd asked you to fucking black up, or to give him your PIN number

or to shit yourself, would you have done that?

Blacked up, yes. It was radio, nobody would've known.

Very good.

War is basically unforeseeable, isn't it?

That is not our line. Walk the fucking line.

We've got Karen Clark over from Washington today.

We've got enough fucking Pentagon goons here

to stage a fucking coup d'état.

- Minister. - Not the time, love.

- I'm busy. Fuck off. - This is Toby.

Toby, hi. I'm glad you could make it. It's a bit of an odd morning here.

Welcome to the madhouse. I apologise for Malcolm.

Don't apologise for me. Apologise for yourself.

Did I not just tell you to fuck off and yet you're still here?

It's true, I am, yes, still here.

Hi, foetus boy,

lesson one, I tell you to fuck off, what do you do?

Eff off?

You'll go far.

- Now, fuck off. - Right.

Judy and I were thinking that I could row back on Question Time tonight.

You're not on Question Time. You've been disinvited.

- We've been prepping Question Time. - Why wasn't I told about this?

Why the fuck would I tell you about it? I told you to fuck off twice.

It's a scheduled media appearance by this department's secretary of state

so it falls well within my purview.

- Within your purview? - Yes.

Where do you think you are, some fucking Regency costume drama?

This is a government department, not a fucking Jane fucking Austen novel.

- Malcolm... - Allow me to pop a jaunty little bonnet

on your purview and ram it up the shitter with a lubricated horse cock.

Your swearing does not impress me.

My husband works for Tower Hamlets and believe me,

those kids make you sound like... Angela Lansbury.

She's married? Poor bastard.

Malcolm, Judy's lubricated horse cock aside for a second,

are you saying I'm now no longer allowed to make media appearances?

Correct. Not until we can trust you to keep the line.

I was going to keep to the line. I was going to say,

I don't think war is unforeseeable...

- What is it, then? - I dunno. Foreseeable? No.

No! Not foreseeable. That's fucking declaring war.

Do you want to fucking declare war?

I'm a Cabinet minister. I didn't get here by screwing up

every media appearance I ever had.

Write this down. It's neither foreseeable nor unforeseeable.

Right, so not inevitable, but not...

You'd better walk on this fucking line.

...evitable.

You, hey, put the snifter out there that if the BBC ambushes a minister

with another surprise question about the war, I'll drop a bomb on them.

I can't do that, can I? That's political.

Does that not fit within your purview, Marie Antoinette?

Why don't you just scuttle off back to fucking Cranford

and play around with your tea and your cakes and your fucking horse cocks.

Let them eat cock! Hey, you ! Ron Weasley, you do it.

No, no, you needn't worry about the Canadians,

they're just happy to be there.