(To Emma) And it is over, you self-serving, crypto-fascist, horse-loving, posh, weekend at daddy's, vacuous nothing! But I'll start by ripping your cock off and I'll busk it from there. Malcolm: Well half an hour ago you were in with a shot! Maybe, outside, the polar ice caps have melted, maybe there's fucking robots knocking about and Davina Mc Call's the new Pope! I want you, right now, to think about your future, okay? Get yourself back on the train to fucking Tomsville, yeah? "Malcolm: Tomorrow, from broadsheets to wank rags, I want pages one, two and three to be a profile of Tom looking like a fucking political colossus. And I am going to have your guts as a skipping rope!
(Terri opens the door, making Malcolm's torrent of abuse audible) YOU'RE A FUCKING PRICK! I need to sleep, I need to eat, occasionally I need to take a dump. Malcolm: Look, people really like it when you go just a bit early! Before you get to the point when they're sitting round in the pub saying "Oh, that fucker's got to go! I hope your blog gets done for libel and you get knobbed in prison by men. I mean, I don't have your education, I don't know what that means. We're in a weird and wonderful world where everything is different! (normal voice) Yeah, well, apart from the charge you're gonna get when I clamp jump leads to your baldy bollocks? You, Julius Nicholson, being of sound mind but with a body that looks like a giant sex toy did knowingly do us up the shit-hole by passing confidential information to the enemy!
Ollie: Oh, yeah yeah yeah, oh yeah, "I'm Geoff Average, and I think the same as everybody else cos I'm Mr Average Normal Bloke and everybody thinks like me cos I work in IT, and on the weekends I pop a few pills and do a bit of DJ-ing, y'know, spare cash cos I'm a single mum and I'm a member of the National Trust, I enjoy any sports on TV, anything with Colin Firth, I enjoy domestic violence and sun-dried fucking...karaoke." Not everybody is the same, Glenn! Malcolm: (On the phone, about Abbot) Hi Tom, what can I do for you? Well, I didn't know what he was doing with his flat... That's a joke, by the way, not a very nice one, a nasty one, which masks a lot of very negative feelings about this fucking department. How am I supposed to do my job if I don't know WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! This desire for perfection, but I'm not perfect, I'm just a person right. Just a world of robots in a sort of--it's like a futuristic film. You'd be in your little space station surrounded by obedient androids, like that fucking brushed-aluminium Dan Miller cyberprick! Ollie: (To Phil) I will be so not sorry to not ever have to talk to you again, you massive floppy blonde tit. Malcolm: If you do think about running with this pill story, I'll personally fucking eviscerate you, right? Jamie: (impersonating Julius) Oh, oh, oh, oh, "the actual charge"?
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Because , you know, if she did that, she'd be dead. And she'll never get another story, or even a fucking whiff of a story as long as she kept her sorry, hack bitch face lingering around Westminster, because I would call every editor I know - which, obviously, that's all of them - and I'd tell them to gouge her name out of their address books so she'd never even get a job on hospital radio where the sad sack belongs. Facilities include flat screen television, Wi-Fi, DVD player, i Pod docking station, and Playstation 3.As well as a fully-equipped kitchen with dishwasher and washer/dryer.Amid all the fervor over Scotland’s independence referendum on Thursday, an intriguing design question has been posed: What will happen to the U. flag, whose design blends aspects of emblems from various countries in the union, including Scotland? Design, we won’t pretend to have an answer to the thorny question of the future of the Union Jack.Instead, we have but one thing to say on the subject of a vote that could change the graphic design destiny of two countries’ banners in a heartbeat.It later transpired that the drive contained photographs of at least 90 unconscious adolescent boys, naked and partially dressed.