Rivals

People sometimes ask me,

"Do sportsmen make good politicians?"

I say, "Yes, if you like your politicians brave, disciplined,

strong in body, mentally agile."

Someone who knows how to truly commit,

working night and day to make your life better.

Someone who knows they're playing for the winning side,

who's born to win and refuses to lose.

Someone who can ride any storm,

and even let others take the lead, without ever tiring or letting go.

Someone who is flexible and used to competing in difficult positions.

If that ticks all your boxes, may I invite you to tick mine?

Oh, you look spectacular.

That was a party political broadcast by the Conservative Party.

You do know that's an antique?

The mirror is pretty old too.

Helen.

So you forgot.

Not for a second.

Half-term break, you have them till Wednesday.

- I've been looking forward to it. - Stop it!

Your poker face is terrible.

More of a bridge man. I do like a foursome.

Daddy!

Hello, sweetheart.

Hi, Marcus.

Hi, Dad.

The children's bags. The clothes are all labelled.

There's a list in there, if you could check them all off when they come back.

Tabitha came home without a single sock last time.

Hello.

Hi, I'm Mrs Gordon, the children's mother.

Uh, yeah, uh…

- Helen, this is Cameron. - I've heard so much about you.

Philadelphia, right?

Yes, ma'am.

Well, New York by way of Philly.

- You? - Florida.

Hmm.

And hi, you must be Tabitha?

Obviously.

Who are you?

Um, I'm your, uh… your father's girlfriend.

You're bloody not!

Okay, I'm gonna leave you to deal with that.

I'm late for my plane, my husband is waiting.

Where are you going?

- Venice. - Oh!

Baby, we should go to Venice.

Wasted on Rupert, I'm afraid.

Okay, kiss the children for me. I'll see them…

- Wednesday. - Wednesday. Right.

I'm sorry. I didn't know that they didn't know about me.

Enjoy Venice!

Don't fall in.

Tabitha! Come and meet Cameron properly.

Told you you should order the beef.

Luigi's is legendary.

Yeah, I'm not really enjoying red meat at the moment.

Ah!

Monica couldn't eat eggs for nine months.

Couldn't see them in the pantry without feeling nauseous.

Hmm.

So, explain to me how it's mine.

You remember the day I joined Corinium?

Celebration dinner at The Bear in Bisley,

two courses.

Me for pudding.

Forgive me, I'm not the only suspect.

James and I didn't start until Miss Corinium.

You do have a husband.

No, Paul lost his libido at the same time as his cabinet seat.

Not something, um, you'd ever have trouble with, I imagine.

You're feeling a bit pushed out

since Beattie came on board at Corinium, am I right?

You're also aware that Cameron's out.

You're wondering if a little power move like this

might move you into the position she vacated.

Queen of Corinium.

Sad to say, Sarah, we're not inviting applications at present.

Nor are we looking for an illegitimate heir to the throne.

Get rid of it.

I know a very good chap in Harley Street, have this sorted out in no time.

A termination?

No… …not a nice word.

Better to think of it as a cleansing of your soul.

Be a shame if this were to hang over your blossoming career.

It would hang over you too though, wouldn't it?

And Monica. Ooh.

Eminently deniable.

Unless that sprog pops out with a cigar in its mouth,

you've no way to prove it's mine.

- Here you go, your beef daube. - Mmm.

Thank you.

- Thank you. - Bon appétit.

Mmm. God, that's good. Mmm.

Try the beef.

Come on.

Don't try to play chess with me, Sarah.

You're not clever enough.

We both want rid of this problem,

so you sort it out as quick as you possibly can.

Good girl.

Rupert's all over bloody everything.

They've shown his party political broadcast five times this week,

he's been on Breakfast Time and TV-am .

Both channels, both channels!

Meanwhile, I can't even get invited on Cotswold Round-Up,

a program me presented by my own wife.

Thank you, darling.

So, listen, I've made some calls

and we're gonna have a dinner party on Tuesday.

See if we can't turn some local goodwill into actual television coverage.

Show Tony Baddingham we mean business.

Dinner party here?

Do you know,

Winifred always used to throw me dinner parties

in the run-up to an election,

and I never had to suggest it myself.

Oh. Good for Winifred.

Yes.

Perhaps you should start thinking about what to cook.

You're too good to those birds.

I like how busy they are.

- Work so hard at surviving. - Morning!

Aubergines from the market, as requested.

- Aubergines in the Cotswolds? - Oh, Bas was in London last night.

I've gotta make six, um, mou…

- Uh, what's it again? - Moussaka.

Six moussaka for the Women's Institute AGM,

- and a spare one for your lunch. - Can't wait.

Do you want a hand? I'm a decent sous-chef.

Oh. Okay, yeah.

Morning all!

Good morning!

Boss lady's here.

Um…

Morning.

You must be Marcus.

Uh, hello.

Which makes you Tabitha.

And you're Declan O'Hara from the telly.

Declan O'Telly, that's right.

This is all looking great.

It is, but Charles called me this morning.

Turns out Corinium are also developing

a series of Shakespeare plays for the schools' market.

Did you know about this?

It's another thing from our application document, isn't it?

All right then…

Where do you want this, Declan?

Uh, over here…

There you go…

Oh, fuck, I'm sweating cobs here.

Who is this person?

Oh.

Good morning, Venturer Television, Shelley speaking.

Well, we said we needed a secretary.

She prefers "Executive Assistant".

Declan, BBC for you.

Declan O'Hara.

Hello, Jeremy.

- Hi, Bas! - Oh! Hello, munchkin.

How are you?

Is there any food? Cameron made breakfast, but it was disgusting.

- Which is your desk? - Why?

You're a new character in my life.

- I want to know everything about you. - That's fantastic.

We've put you over here, Cameron. This is the driving seat.

Why don't you go into the kitchen and find Taggie?

She'll get you a snack. Go on, it's just through there.

I scrambled some eggs. How is that disgusting?

Will do, Jeremy. Thank you.

So, our Yeats documentary is now officially in development.

Yes! Come on!

I love a bit of Yeats.

Oh, honey, till recently you were pronouncing it "Yeets".

So, what happens now?

Take a trip over to Ireland, scout out some locations.

We don't need to shoot in Ireland,

we've got landscape coming out of our ears in Rutshire.

With all due respect, Cameron...

Says the man about to say something disrespectful.

Fucking Rutshire looks nothing like Ireland

and it's ignorant to even suggest that we would ever...

We should be trying to film wherever's least expensive.

I don't want the maths club running the drama group, all right?

Oh, hello, children.

Uh, there's nobody in the kitchen.

Okay, uh, take a seat

and we'll-we'll find you some cookies or something.

Huh, Shelley?

You don't want the math club running the drama group,

I don't want the drama group being irresponsible

with Venturer's program me budget!

- Very good. Very good. - Oh, my God.

You little shits.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa… come on. The timing was good.

Cameron farticated!

Ew, I can smell it!