House of Cards

Nothing lasts for ever.

Even the longest, most glittering reign

must come to an end some day.

Who could replace her? Plenty of contenders.

Old warriors, young pretenders.

Lord Billsborough, say. Party Chairman.

Too old and too familiar.

Tainted by a thousand shabby deals.

Michael Samuels. Too young.

And too clever.

Patrick Woolton.

Bit of a lout. Bit of a bully-boy.

Yes, it could well be Woolton.

Henry Collingridge.

The people's favourite.

A well-meaning fool.

No background and no bottom.

What, me? Oh, no, no, no.

I'm the Chief Whip. Merely a functionary.

I keep the troops in line.

I put a bit of stick about, make 'em jump.

I shall, of course, give my absolute loyalty to whoever emerges as my leader.

You'll have to excuse me now.

Henry Collingridge is Britain's new Prime Minister.

Today Henry Collingridge emerged as the popular choice to lead his party

as Prime Minister in the general election.

Mr Collingridge, 48 years old, has served as Minister for the Environment

and Minister for Inner City Growth,

and has been described as the acceptable face of capitalism.

Well...let's see how he does.

Throughout the span of this government,

we have transformed this country beyond all recognition.

We are now a nation of property owners,

a nation of shareholders,

a proud nation of men and women

who know how to get off their backsides and help themselves.

We have achieved

all that we set out to achieve.

Now is the time

when we can afford to share our hard-won gains

with those less successful than ourselves.

And now, let our watchword be this.

Let's find the right way

for all of our people

to come together.

Bloody nonsense. All come together?

Sounds like a motto of a knocking-shop in Marrakech.

Dear old Patrick.

Knocking-shop in Marrakech! Very wide of the mark.

Our esteemed new leader wouldn't know a knocking-shop if he saw one.

His morality is strictly backstreet Sunday school hypocritical cant

picked up in Peterborough or Rugeley

or some such God-awful place.

Not that one holds that against him,

but we started something when we let fellows like that climb up the greasy pole.

Good boy. My own background, as you see, is somewhat different.

But privilege carries responsibility.

I am a loyal servant of the state

and proud to be so.

Besides, I may not think highly of Henry Collingridge,

but I believe he thinks highly of me.

I have hopes of high office, I confess.

I have been promised as much by him.

But first things first. We have a general election to win.

Good evening, and welcome to "Election Special".

The polling stations have just closed,

and we have a long night ahead of us.

Early indications are that the government will be returned with a reduced majority.

# For he's a jolly good fellow! For he's a jolly good fellow!

# And so say all of us! #

- Ghastly people. - OUR people.

What was that frightful woman saying?

Wanted the smack of firm government.

She wanted YOU to smack her bottom. I could see that much.

What is Collingridge going to do for you?

I don't know. Perhaps nothing.

- I've done enough for him. - More than he deserves.

That woman thought I should be Prime Minister.

"Glamis and Cawdor, and King hereafter".

I think that you should be Prime Minister.

You're twice the man Collingridge is, or ever will be.

Well, yes, my wife is very loyal.

A politician needs a wife - and other people, too, regrettably.

A man of state needs helpers, little elves and sprites to do his bidding.

Even unwitting pawns who don't know who they serve.

Roger O'Neill,

the party's Publicity Director,

Lord Billsborough's right-hand man.

Jesus, Roger!

Ah, but that sidestep. Magical. I had Phil Bennett with that at Lansdowne Road.

Open the window, Rog.

Where were you, anyway?

Picking something up to celebrate with.

Has his little weaknesses.

Very... warm nature.

Very...human.

But I don't mind that.

They make him more...

They make him easier to deal with.

Of course, one needs a sympathetic ear

amongst the ladies and gentlemen of the press,

those valiant seekers after truth.

As we wait to go over to Torbay for the first result,

let's see what the countrywide swing would look like if our exit poll is correct.

An overall majority of 31 seats

would mean that the political map of Great Britain would look like this.

Jesus!

What's this? We backed those bastards.

- Why can't they deliver? - They won't lose.

Starting with a majority of 100 and losing 70-odd seats isn't a vote of confidence.

Never a word in the polls. Nobody forecast this.

Greville, I told you it'll be closer than the polls said.

They're not coming out for Collingridge.

Thank you very much, Mattie. That's extremely helpful at this juncture

What are we going to do? Christ, look.

"Home & Dry." Home and bloody dry.

- BrilliantWho wrote that nonsense? - I thought you did, Greville.

It was dictated to me over the phone by our proprietor, Mr Benjamin Landless.

Even he wouldn't want the late edition to go out looking like that.

Mattie? Any thoughts?

Government Majority Slashed.

Back In By A Whisker.

I'm Still Standing - But Only Just.

It's YOUR job on the bloody line as well.

Greville, we can afford to wait a bit. It's only 20 minutes till the first result.

Don't worry. I'll be back in just a sec.

Come here, you.

- Jeremy is scared shitless. - I told him it'd be close.

And I've told him that our analysis

will show how his ads zapped the target voters in every category.

So if we win, headquarters will know they owe it all to us. And if we lose...

If we lose, everyone will say we ran the best campaign ever

and the lousy politicians blew it.

Rog, are you OK?

Bloody hay fever.

Fine. Fine!

Never better.

Oh, Lord. I think this is it.

- Terry Aloysius Alabaster... - Happy Sunshine Party.

..43 votes.

Labour.

..sixteen thousand, three hundred and fourteen.

- George Timothy Granville Green... - Conservative.

..twenty-three thousand,

seven hundred and eighty-five.

What's 23,000?

Eight per cent swing.

Majority of 30 or so, just what they forecast in the exit poll. We're all right.

We've just about saved our bacon.

Well done, Roger! Well done indeed!

If that doesn't get you a knighthood, what will? Didn't mean to interrupt.

- My assistant, Penny Guy. - Delighted.

So you assist young Roger? What exactly do you assist him with?

Just about anything at all.

I say!

Shall I, er...?

Oh, about...15 minutes.

Right. Bye.

You don't have an arrangement for leasing her out, do you?

- Excuse me, sir. - It's all right. I'm Charles Collingridge.

- Here is my membership card. - I'm sorry, sir.

Erm...

- It's all right, Constable. - Ah, Teddy. I've got myself into a pickle.

- Come on, Charles. - I'm sorry, sir.

Sir, the Prime Minister's expected in five minutes.

Well, boys, we're back.

They're all here. Is it all right for a chap to come and drink his brother's health?

Absolutely, Charles. We're delighted to see you.

- Where's Hal? - On his way, Charles. Soon be here.

Hal?

It could have been worse.

- Atchoo! - Mr O'Neill!

- Mr O'Neill! - Who is it?

The Prime Minister's office.

I can't hear you.

It's the Prime Minister for you, Mr O'Neill!

Hello.

Yes, this is Roger O'Neill.

Thank you.

Just putting me through.

Prime Minister! Many congratulations, and how very good of you it is to call.

And then I'd like to lick it all off

very, very slowly.

Thank you very much, Prime Minister. That'll be very much appreciated.

Did I say that this would be taking place in the fifth-year dorm at Benenden?

I'm overwhelmed. May I tell them that?

The Prime Minister just wants me to thank you on his behalf

for running such a fabulous campaign,

and he's not going to ask for his money back.

- Well done! - Thank you, Bertie.

- Well done, Michael. - Thanks, Lucy.

Isn't he lovely?

- Many congratulations, Michael. - Thank you, Francis.

So sorry. Please let me get you another one.

Charles Collingridge. I've asked Francis Urquhart to keep an eye on him.

Urquhart?

Hardly see him as a natural nursemaid.

Not so sure. He's got a good heart but he won't stand for bloody nonsense.

Ideal nursemaid in my opinion.

- He's a bore. - Damn good thing.