Внезапное явление Криса Эддисона в "Докторе" напомнило мне, что я давно собиралась разодрать свой любимый ситком всех времен и народов на цитаты.
почти все шоу[Phil walks in]
Ollie: Right, you speak to me and I will pour hot coffee on your balls!
Phil: No, I don't want to fight. I just want to clear the air actually. We're like those two people on the weathercock, you know, I come out, you come in.
Ollie: You're Mr Sunshine, are you?
Phil: I'm Mr. Sunshine!
Ollie: You little wooden twat, in a little wooden house!
Phil: Oh come on! Look there's no need! We can be friends! I'm thinking two enemies, they come together when they realise it is no more. Aragorn and Boromir! Me, Aragorn, the true king, you, Boromir. Your horn is broken, and will be blown no more!
Ollie: This inability to talk without using Lord of the Rings metaphors is one of the very many reasons that we can never be friends.
***
[Terri is ogling Peter Mannion]
Peter: The stupid one keeps staring at me.
Phil: That's because she's a mentalist and she loves you. If you ever crash your car in the mountains, she'll be the one waiting to pull you out! Have you seen Misery?
Peter: I'm at the fucking BBC aren't I?
***
Malcolm: [walks up to Phil] Ok, Shitehead Revisited. Did you know that Nicola Murray's daughter is about to be expelled from school for fucking bullying?
Ollie: [to Malcolm] What are you doing?
Phil: No, what...
Malcolm: [to Ollie] Don't worry. [to Phil] Did you not know that?
Phil: No, why would I... No...
Malcolm: Of course you wouldn't know that, 'cause the only people who know that right now are Mrs. Murray, her daughter, Ollie and me, yeah? If this gets into the press, I would know they came from you.
Phil: Clever.
Malcolm: And I would rain down on you so hard, you would have to be reassembled by fucking air crash investigators. [Phil tries to protest] DO NOT FUCKING interrupt me, son, ever! Now get this into the noggin, right. You breathe a word of this, to anyone, you mincing fucking CUNT, and I will tear your fucking skin off, I will wear it to your mother's birthday party, and I will rub your nuts up and down her leg whilst whistling Bohemian fucking Rhapsody, right!?
Phil: [nods in shock] Yeah.
Malcolm: Now, get out of my fucking sight.
Phil: Yeah. [wanders off, visibly terrified]
***
[Nicola and Terri sit down in Malcolm's office]
Malcolm: I just wanted to say to you, by way of introductory remarks, that I am extremely miffed about today's events and, in my quest to try and make you understand the level of my unhappiness, I'm likely to use an awful lot of what we would call "Violent Sexual Imagery", and I just wanted to check that neither of you would be terribly offended by that.
Nicola: I could actually do without the theatrics, I think Malcolm--
Malcolm: Enough. E-fucking-nough. You need to learn to shut your fucking cave, right? Today, you have laid your first, big, fat egg of solid fuck.
***
Malcolm: That's the sort of thing the press will throw at you. I mean you step out of line they'll be all over you like a pigeon on a chip, you know? Is that your chair?
Nicola: Oh God yes, it's cool isn't it. It's got lumbar support.
Malcolm: Bin it. People don't like their politicians to be comfortable. They don't like you having expenses. They don't like you being paid. They'd rather you lived in a fucking cave.
Nicola: Ok, fine. So what should I be sitting on? Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?
Malcolm: A fucking normal chair, right. Not a fucking massive vibrating throne.
***
[on the phone to a colleague about how busy he is]
Malcolm: I've got more on my plate than a spinster at a wedding. That wasn't a reference to your daughter by the way, Andrew.
[later in the episode, on the phone again]
Malcolm: Doug Hayes is a massive abortion. Again, not a reference to your daughter.
***
[Ollie's girlfriend has stolen his policy idea]
Malcolm: Your fucking girlfriend. Jesus Christ...
Jamie: You should have dumped that mad bitch ages ago.
Ollie: I would've done, she is mad! She's a mental woman! But you two kept telling me to go out with her in case I found anything out!
Jamie: Oh, and what did you find out? That you've been leaking intelligence to them!? You're the fucking shittest James Bond ever! You're David fucking Niven!
***
[Ben Swain walks in]
Malcolm: I have to say, I have never seen anyone sweat so much in my entire life. And I've been in a sauna with Pavarotti! I mean I know politicians and hot air are supposed to go together, but I've never actually seen one vaporise!
***
Malcolm: God, right, okay, well, seein' as you're not used to this, I'll go through it for you, okay? What happens at a press conference is this. A bunch of press people are gonna appear, they've got things called cameras and microphones and mobile phones and hangovers and bad breath. Then you are gonna walk out and you're gonna read from what we call a "prepared statement". In that you will say "I'm really fucking sorry for sounding like a hairy-arsed docker after twelve pints. I promise that I will never call an 8-year-old girl a cunt again. Can we now just draw a line over this, and fucking move on. Thank you". Everybody goes home and then we wait and we see what happens. The best case is you get to keep your job, although you will forever be known as The Sweary Woman of Whitehall.
***
Malcolm: Don't take it personally.
Hugh: You're telling me she doesn't like me as a person. How else am I supposed to take it?
***
Hugh: How fucked am I?
Ollie: Well, you look awful, you look terrible. I mean, you often look quite bad, but...
Hugh: In terms of negative publicity. On the fuckometer, where am I?
Glenn: Oh, 12.
Ollie: Yeah. 12, say.
Hugh: Out of what?
Glenn: Er... 50.
Ollie: Oh. Mine was out of ten.
***
Cliff Lawton: You've told the Lobby that I'm going?
Malcolm: Yeah. Sorry, Cliff.
Cliff Lawton: Minister.
Malcolm: Yeah, get used to 'Cliff'.
***
[Malcolm opens a box. It contains a cake decorated with the words "Happy Birthday C*nt"]
Malcolm: This could be from anyone. [Opens the accompanying card] It's from the Prime Minister. This is Tom's idea of a joke, and he wonders why we don't let him out in public.
***
Malcolm: That's your fucking career over, right? Okay, you're fucking dead. And those three little words, "Tim in Ruislip", are the fucking nails in your coffin, dear.
[imitates hammering]
Malcolm: Tim. In. Ruislip. Tim in fucking Ruislip. And as for Tim in fucking...
Janice: Yeah, okay, can you stop fucking saying that, please?
Malcolm: ...FUCKING, FUCKING Ruislip, he's fucking dead as well! That fucking texting coward. Give me his number. What's his fucking number? Give me the fucking number of Tim in Ruislip. If you don't give me his fucking number, do you know what I'm gonna have to do? I'm gonna have to fucking go to fucking Ruislip and fucking snap the thumb and forefinger off of every single person I see who I think resembles the kind of wanker that would be walking around in this day and fucking age with a name like fucking Tim! How do you think that sounds, huh?
Stewart: Quite, quite mad.
***
Ollie: How are things at the department of education, education, education?
Ben: They're going up the fuck-pump, Ollie, mostly because you are the Robin Hood of politics.
Ollie: Well, Robin Hood was a hero.
Ben: No he wasn't! He was a bloody terrorist!
***
Malcolm: Right people, listen up! It's a fucking lockdown, right now!
Nicola: Oh come on, we're not in a prison drama are we?
Malcolm: We are in a prison drama. This is like The Shawshank Redemption, only with more tunneling through shit and no fucking redemption.
***
Nicola: Why are you doing this?
Ben: Because I'm bored, it's funny, and I hate you. There you are, the holy trinity of 'why'.
***
Nicola: For fuck's sake, Malcolm!
Malcolm: Shouldn't that be "Of fuck's sake"?
Nicola: What?
Malcolm: Can I just quote it to you? "The Prime Minister is the right man for the moment"
Nicola: Yeah, that's what you told me to say!
Malcolm: Of the moment! Of the moment! I told you to say "Of the fucking moment!" There is a huge difference between me saying "Nicola, I'd like to go for a walk with you" and "Nicola, I'm going to make a hat out of your entrails."
***
[The team have had their first meeting with Steve Fleming]
Ollie: What would you call that? Obsessive Repulsive Disorder? [impersonating Steve Fleming] "Caffeinated gifts!"
Terri: Malcolm never bought us coffees. I like him!
Ollie: Yes, well you like bath salts, you're basically an idiot.
***
Ollie: [On the phone to Malcolm, who's on holiday] Andy Murray, famous tennis player also lovely scotch... person - The new face of healthy eating. Nicola Murray, slightly panicky minister lady wonders if that's alright?
Malcolm: Yeah, yeah. Andy Murray, Andy Pandy, fucking Ghandi have a hand-shandy, whatever, just fuck off out of my life.
Ollie: [Hangs up. To Nicola] The man from Hell Monte, he say "Fucking Aye!"
***
Malcolm: [to Steve Fleming] Ah, here he is, Bob Carolgees? How's the wee comedy dog?
Steve: Hello Malcolm! Nice holiday? I hear your kitchen's lovely at this time of year.
Malcolm: Well, actually, I went to Spain. I went to Malaga. I went golfing with Stephen Hawking, he's fucking shit. He lied about his handicap. And the best thing was I didn't have to pay for a buggy, I just sat on his lap!
***
Glenn: You want us to work all through the night on this!?
Steve: It would be very much appreciated upstairs.
Ollie: Yes, well I'm an atheist.
Steve: By the Prime Minister. I did get the joke, by the way.
[Steve walks away]
Ollie: [mouthing] Well done.
***
Malcolm: [knock on door] Listen, if you're not a prostitute or a pizza guy, fuck off! [to Steve Fleming] Steve, listen, could you eat or fuck whatever's at the door, on your fucking way out please?
***
Nicola: You're all over the papers like a pissing puppy, Malcolm.
Malcolm: Yeah, well I think you'll find that's what we Masters of the Dark Arts call a blip.
***
[Malcolm has organised some celebrity endorsements for the department]
Glenn: Well done Malcolm!
Ollie: He is very impressive, isn't he? In the way that, you know, Chairman Mao was actually quite impressive.
Glenn: Well, that's the thing about the evil isn't it, their amazing work ethic.
***
[Malcolm being fired]
Steve: Malcolm! Malcolm--
Malcolm: DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME! You cannot fuck me! You cannot fuck me! I am unfuckable! I have never been fucked! AND IF YOU FUCKING TRY AND FUCK ME, YOU'LL FIND MY FUCKING ARSE WILL FUCKING GROW FUCKING FANGS--
Steve: Right, now listen to me--
Malcolm: --AND FUCKING SNAP--
Steve: Will you listen to me!?
Malcolm: --YOU FUCKING COCK OFF!
***
[Malcolm after being fired]
Man: Do you want to swim the Channel for Scope?
Malcolm: No!
Man: Wou wou want to go on Dragon's Den for Children in Need?
Malcolm: I'd rather fuck a real dragon.
Man: Would you consider promoting a political-themed restaurant?
Malcolm: How does that--how does that even work? Oh fuck no, I don't care.
Man: Would you like to write a children's book, called "The Angry Spider"?
***
Ollie: He's back!
Nicola: Who? Barrymore?
Ollie: No.
Nicola: Clement Atlee?
Ollie: No.
Nicola: Oh fuck!
Ollie: Yes.
Nicola: Malcolm.
Ollie: Yes.
Nicola: I was there when he was getting fired and he asked me for help and I held out. Now he's gonna want revenge isn't he? It's gonna be like "Kill Bill" or"Get Carter" only it's gonna be "Get and kill Nicola and then get Carter and Bill to fucking kill her too"!
***
Peter: I hate school children, they're volatile and stupid, and they haven't even got the vote. Might as well be talking to fucking geese.
***
[Brainstorming a buzzword for do-gooder members of the public]
Ollie: You know, the people who deal with the little stuff... um... Wombles, Honest Wombles. Everyday Wombles?
Malcolm: Sorry, I've just got to take a call...
Nicola: Um, 'straights' -
Ollie: No!
Nicola: No... no, of course, sorry.
Helen: Commuting champions.
Nicola: Interrailers, human interrailers.
Ollie: Human interrailers? That's interrailers. Uh, everyday superstars, all... all British supremes -
Malcolm: That sounds like a racist tribute band.
Nicola: Ordinary people, with s-... with... something special about them. With a special power.
Ollie: Please don't say special. Don't say special.
Nicola: No but - you know, but like sup... uh... people as superheroes.
Ollie: Iron People... Spider People -
Nicola: They're just regular citizens, but they have this... p - that one special quality that makes them like Batman, Batpeople. Um... Quiet Batpeople.
Malcolm: [Glaring] Quiet Batpeople?
***
Malcolm : It's time for you to step up Ollie. What's that film that you love?
Ollie: What film?
Malcolm: The one about the fucking hairdresser, the space hairdresser and the cowboy. The guy, he's got a tin foil pal and a pedal bin. His father's a robot and he's fucking fucked his sister. Lego! They're all made of fucking lego.
Ollie: Star Wars?
Malcolm: That's the one. It's like that, where you kill all the bad guys, and you'll be able to blow up the big...
Ollie: Death Star.
Malcolm: The Death Star thing. Then you can go and live happily ever after on the planet with the teddy bears.
Ollie: They're Ewoks.
***
Dan: I should challenge her?
Malcolm: What the fuck is this? Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Cunt?
***
Ben: The Leader of The Opposition, Malcolm, is in that room practicing walking. I mean baby horses can walk from the womb, she's one nil down to a pony.
Malcolm: A pony isn't a baby horse, it's a foal, a fucking foal is a baby horse.
Ben: Right, our guest tonight on 'I Don't Give a Fuck About Baby Horses' is me.
[Later, watching Nicola on TV]
Malcolm: You're right, she can't fucking walk.
Ben: Should we get a pony to challenge her?
Malcolm: It's not a pony! It's a fucking foal.
Ben: Sorry. How d'you know so much about horses, anyway? I thought you were raised by wolves.
***
Phil: We don't even know why he killed himself yet. I mean suicide - it's pathetic. At least take some of your enemies with you. That's a noble death.
***
Adam: It's like there's a little twelve-year-old boy, in a suit, with a fucking light-sabre on his desk - don't think I don't know it's there - running this department while Mannion's away, it's a fucking joke!
Phil: No it's not! Have you ever seen Game of Thrones Season 2?
Adam: No!
Phil: Or Anakin Skywalker, he was young! Frodo, in his thirties, still young for a hobbit! They left me in charge because I'm a Jedi and you're a fucking Ewok.
Glenn: Right, what is the Ewok stand on this?
***
Malcolm: [on the phone] Sam, hi, listen, can you do me a favour? Buy some flowers for Nicola fucking Murray. Yeah, have them delivered to her home this evening with a card that says; "Sorry you had to go, but let's face it, you are a fucking waste of skin". Waste of skin, yeah.
***
Malcolm: I'm looking for Mr. Oliver Reeder, he looks a bit like a Quentin Blake illustration.
***
И финал. Печальное, но любимое.
Malcolm: Ollie, look at me! I'm not pulling anything out of my magic hat. The rabbits are falling to pieces, the fucking heads are coming off and frightening the kids. So somebody else is going to have to help out.
Ollie: Well, who says I even want to be you, Malcolm? Who says that?
Malcolm: Nobody says that. Except every screaming atom of that etiolated stick of fuck you call a body says that. Every fibre of your being - every stamen - says that. But you are not me, Ollie. You never will be me. I knew Malcolm F. Tucker, sir, and you are no Malcolm Fucking Tucker. You're not even Manchester's top Malcolm Tucker tribute band. And trying to be me - you?! Trying to be me will fucking kill you. I'll give you 18 months before you're a washed out, weeping alcoholic. With no fucking bladder control. Sleeping on your brother-in-law's sofa.
Ollie: And so on, and so on. It doesn't have to be like that now, Malcolm. Politics has actually changed-
Malcolm: Oh?
Ollie: Yeah! Yeah! Yeah, and you probably haven't noticed because you've been on transmit for the last fucking eight years! "Wah wah wah wah"! And whilst you've been doing that, everybody else has been changing! It's all a bit soft-core now, it's all about algorithms now. You don't have to be Malcolm Tucker to sit in that chair.
Malcolm: Oh, how quickly they grow up. You fucking think you know me?
Ollie: Yeah. Yeah, I know you.
Malcolm: You know Jackie fucking Chan about me. YOU KNOW FUCK ALL ABOUT ME! I am totally beyond the realms of your fucking tousle-haired, fucking dim-witted compre-fucking-hension! I don’t just take this fucking job home, you know. I take this job home, it fucking ties me to the bed, and it fucking fucks me from arsehole to breakfast! Then it wakes me up in the morning with a cup full of piss slung in my face, slaps me about the chops, to make sure I’m awake enough so it can kick me in the fucking bollocks! This job has taken me in every hole in my fucking body! Malcolm is gone! You can’t know Malcolm, because Malcolm is not here! Malcolm fucking left the building fucking years ago! This is a fucking husk, I am a fucking host for this fucking job. Do you want this job? Yes, you do fucking want this job. Then, you’re going to have to fucking swallow this whole fucking life and let it grow inside you like a parasite. Getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it fucking eats your insides alive and it stares out of your eyes and tells you what to do.
Ollie: Christ, Malcolm, this is like the video you leave on YouTube after you've blown your brains out.
Malcolm: I'm as dead as fucking Two-Tone. But I can fashion my own exit.
Ollie: Oh, Christ. What, are you going to fly to Switzerland, have a wank with a nurse and a bye-bye pill, are you?
Malcolm: Funny, funny man. Political exit. What you're going to see is a masterclass in fucking dignity, son. The audience will be on their feet. "There he goes" they'll say, "No friends, no real friends, no children, no glory no memoirs...", well, fuck them.