Malcolm Tucker
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Quotes for
Malcolm Tucker (Character)
from In the Loop (2009)

The content of this page was created by users. It has not been screened or verified by IMDb staff.
"The Thick of It: Spinners and Losers" (2007)
Malcolm Tucker: [to Cliff Lawton] I'd love to stop and chat to you but I'd rather have type 2 diabetes.

Cliff Lawton: Malcolm!
Malcolm Tucker: Elvis! Sorry, sorry, Cliff. Where are you off to?
Cliff Lawton: I'm actually off to see and old collegue, you know, back from the old days, before you asked me to resign.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, lovely, lovely. Well, look, I'd love to stop and chat but I'd rather have type 2 diabetes.
Cliff Lawton: Yes, fuck you.
Malcolm Tucker: Happy New Year.

Malcolm Tucker: [to Jamie, on the phone] There's a glacier of shit at DoSAC. I need you over here with a fucking blow torch right now!

Malcolm Tucker: Has anybody seen Jamie?
Glenn Cullen: Why? Have you lost him?
Oliver Reeder: Don't tell me he's gone feral, 'cause he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash!
Malcolm Tucker: Let's not overreact.
Oliver Reeder: Easy for you to say, he threatened to shove an ipod up my cock!
Malcolm Tucker: You get that alot, though, don't you?

Glenn Cullen: Tom's lot has gone into a huddle.
Oliver Reeder: What, already?
Glenn Cullen: This is it, you know. This is where it begins. Who's in, who's out. Fatty is out.
Oliver Reeder: At least he'll spend more time with his fridge.
[Tucker arrives]
Malcolm Tucker: Has anybody seen Jamie?
Glenn Cullen: Why? Have you lost him?
Oliver Reeder: Don't tell me he's gone feral, 'cause he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash!
Malcolm Tucker: Let's not overreact.
Oliver Reeder: Easy for you to say, he threatened to shove an ipod up my cock!
Malcolm Tucker: You get that alot, though, don't you? Who it is that's booked to go on Today tomorrow, do you know?
Terri Coverley: I could find out...
Glenn Cullen: It could be Bob Ryan.
[everyone laughs]
Oliver Reeder: That's exactly who it's gonna be.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah Glenn, probably Bob Ryan. For fuck's sake! Have you gone back in fucking time? Yeah, I believe Disraeli's standing as well.
Terri Coverley: And Oliver Cromwell.
Oliver Reeder: Also fish who hasn't crowled onto the land yet to form the first tetrapod.
[everyone stare at him]
Oliver Reeder: I was hearing maybe... Geoff Holhurst?
Malcolm Tucker: Geoff? No fucking way, no, he's ruled himself out for definite. Mind you, I could always go and fire a warning shot across his throat.

Glenn Cullen: [watching Dan Miller on TV] You don't think he's got a chance, do you?
Oliver Reeder: No, he's just a droid, isn't he? He's just...
[makes bleeping noises]
Malcolm Tucker: Hey hey, don't leat him hear you doing that sort of stuff! What happens if he does stand a chance, eh? He'll fuck you harder than Ron Jeremy and with less warmth.

Malcolm Tucker: Where's Robyn? Robyn, come here! Quick! I'm bringing Jamie over to fire-fight this Watford story, so you'll be working with Jamie for the rest of the night, you take orders from Jamie. I want you to bury this Watford arsey tonight, because tomorrow morning - from broadsheets to wank rags - I want pages one, two and three to be a profile of Tom looking like a fucking political colossus, you know - Tom meeting the Pope, Tom in a NHS hospital chatting to little baldie kiddies. I want pages four and five to be a timeline of the last years of British politics with ME at the center, looking fucking indispensable and fucking benign, and I want page six to be fucking Israel or some bullshit, not a fucking DoSAC deepshit legacy-distracting COCKUP!
Robyn Murdoch: It's just Jamie, I find him just a little bit frightening...
Malcolm Tucker: Relax, he has never hit anyone! Or at least anyone he's hit has never had the bollocks to take it to a superior! It's a fucking joke, it's a joke, ok? The man is a professional, you will be fine!
Glenn Cullen: Actually, Malcolm, we still have no word on Dan Miller, he's gone dark, he's not answering his phone...
Malcolm Tucker: Maybe he's in a hotel with his own huddle! Ring around, try and find him.
Glenn Cullen: What, ring every hotel in London and ask if Dan Miller's booked in?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah! Although he could be using an assumed name...
Glenn Cullen: So, you want me ring round every hotel in London and ask if anyone of any name has booked in?
Malcolm Tucker: Keep you busy! You know, you have to keep the mind active at your age.
[to Ollie]
Malcolm Tucker: You! Walk my way. I need you to go over there for me. I need you at that hotel.
Oliver Reeder: You wanna to have a loop.
Malcolm Tucker: Fuck you, Andy-Pandy, I AM the loop. I want you in there for reason that will not become cleat to you for about 200 years so just do it. Specifically, see if any of Dan Miller's army are mincing in fish nettings and high heels. And I want updates every five.
Oliver Reeder: Ok.
Malcolm Tucker: Oi, and listen, get onto your ex at the Mail, allright? Tell her no fucker is standing, it all evaporated like cat's piss on a hot tin roof. Ok, twat-weasel? You got that?
Oliver Reeder: Yes, thank you.
[walking away]
Oliver Reeder: Malcolm Tucker, an investor in people.
Malcolm Tucker: Yes, I heard that! Fuck you!

Malcolm Tucker: [answering his cellphone] Terri, I think you've dialled the wrong number, this is not the Samaritans.
Terri Coverley: Yes, very very funny. Listen, I've got something for you, a bit of intelligence. Jamie has got Cliff Lawton as his stalking horse.
Malcolm Tucker: Who told you it was Lawton? Martha Karney's gardner?
Terri Coverley: Malcolm, it was Robyn told me.
[Tucker hangs up]
Terri Coverley: Malcolm? Are you there?
Jamie: [cut to Jamie and Cliff] Nobody gives a shit if you got shuffted by Malcolm.
Cliff Lawton: I will never ever forgive him for what he did to me.
Jamie: Jesus, this isn't Eastenders! This is politics! We're all in the same playing pit, Cliff, there's no clean hands.
Cliff Lawton: Alright.
Jamie: [phone rings. Jamie answers] Yeah?
Malcolm Tucker: Jamie... What's that sort of droning noise in the background there? What, kind of boring, kind of low, sort of droning, boring, kind of miserable, whining, kind of, sort of boring noise going on?
Jamie: Yeah, well you've got it wrong, yeah?
Malcolm Tucker: Cliff fucking Lawton. Hey, nice. Was the Cillit Bang guy not availabe?
Jamie: Fuck you.
[hangs up]
Cliff Lawton: [reading from his speech] "... to put it simply, I'm back!"
Jamie: Oh fuck off, Cliff!
Cliff Lawton: Sorry?
Jamie: Fuck off! You're a busted flush! You're not gonna be any Prime Minister, you're not gonna be anything, so fuck off!
Cliff Lawton: That's your thing, isn't it? Everything has to be in absolutes, everything has to be black and white. You know, "I love you -fuck off". There are lots of shades of grey, you know!
Jamie: I know that, I'm looking at fifteen of them right now!

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] Yeah, yeah, for sure Ballantine's out.
Adam Kenyon: Thanks. Thanks for that, Malcolm. I really appriciate it.
Malcolm Tucker: You know what they're calling her already? Ugly Betty.
Adam Kenyon: That's fucking brilliant.
Malcolm Tucker: So, that's big night for you, eh?
Adam Kenyon: Well,yeah, you know...
Malcolm Tucker: Listen, this Tom story, who's got it? How you're gonna run it?
Adam Kenyon: You mean the ''vitamins''?
Malcolm Tucker: Yes, the ''vitamins'', ha ha.
Adam Kenyon: Probably nothing, actually, to be honest.
Malcolm Tucker: No, nothing, nothing at all?
Adam Kenyon: If the guy's gonna be the next Prime Minister, I don't wanna piss him off with something that can't stand up.
Malcolm Tucker: Good call. Listen, we should get you over here sometime, yeah?
Adam Kenyon: I'd love that.
Malcolm Tucker: And obviously if you do think about running with this pills story, I will personally fucking eviscerate you, right?
Adam Kenyon: Right...
Malcolm Tucker: And I mean, I don't have your education, I dunno what it means, but I will start by ripping your cock off and I'll bask it from there, ok?
Adam Kenyon: Good, thank you, again.
Malcolm Tucker: Talk to you later.
Adam Kenyon: Cheers, bye bye, now.
[hangs up. To Angela]
Adam Kenyon: He's a nice guy.

Ben Swain: So why have you got me? Why have you called me back in? Are we gonna do a post-Claire, preemptive-Dan Miller strike?
Malcolm Tucker: We're thinking, Ben, about you.
Ben Swain: About... As in, ME?
Malcolm Tucker: People still want a Tom figure, but Tom is tainted, you know, but you, you're clean, you know. You are the exactable face of Tom. Tom is analog in a digital age. You are Digital Ben. You're DigiBen. I think, I really think you could get it. I really do. I really, genuinely do.
Ben Swain: [shocked] Oh, shitcakes. So I could be like a younger, sort of hunger... hungrier, leaner version of Tom?
Malcolm Tucker: Not leaner.
Ben Swain: Allright, a younger, hungrier Tom.
Malcolm Tucker: That's it! I mean, because there's an army of people out there who want Tom's ideas. You could bring those ideas, but you know, without the dribbling.

Malcolm Tucker: [to Ben] Stop fucking blinking! Or I will take your optic nerve and strangle you with it!

Jamie: It's show time! Can Teflon Tucker save the Nutters or will Dan Miller rip his sculp off and use it as an oven glove?
Nick Hanway: [Ben and Nick coming down the stairs] Guys! Is he here? Dan's not arrived yet, is he?
Malcolm Tucker: Laurel and fucking Hardy! Glad you could join us. Did you manage to get that piano up the stairs ok, yeah?
Jamie: Oh, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for The Right Honourable Dan Miller, MP!
Dan Miller: Oh, the reception committee. What a turn out. And they say no one is interested in politics. Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: Dan.
Dan Miller: Nick.
Nick Hanway: Dan.
Dan Miller: Ben.
Ben Swain: Dan.
Dan Miller: Jamie.
Jamie: God, enough with the pleasensies here, let's just oil up and get fucking, yeah?
Malcolm Tucker: I'm looking forward to today.
Dan Miller: Today should be very interesting.
Malcolm Tucker: I just wonder what are you actually gonna be saying on Today.
Dan Miller: On the Today program? Well I'll be saying that I'll be fully endorsing Tom. Tom's my guy and he always has been.
Nick Hanway: Really? Is that it? No buts, no elephant traps?
Dan Miller: No, no. Tom and I came to an arrangement about an hour or so ago.
Malcolm Tucker: Well, my work here is done.
Nick Hanway: Why wasn't I told?
Jamie: [Jamie does a flying movement with his hand, complete with whistling. Nick looks at him in puzzlement] It's the sound of you flying out of the loop head first into a huge mound of shite.
Nick Hanway: So this whole evening has just been a waste of time.
[Jamie does the flying thing again]
Nick Hanway: Yeah, yeah, I got it, got it.
Dan Miller: Yes, yes, that's pretty much it. That's why I went home, had a good night's sleep. Oh, by the way, Malcolm, Tom said to liaise with you on the press and...
Malcolm Tucker: Yes, yes, offfcourse, yeah...
[Tucker recieves a message on his beeper]
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, God. Oh, I've been summoned to the breakfast meeting, to talk to Tom about this morning, some details about Claire Ballentine maybe, Geoff Holhurst, young Benjamin here.
Nick Hanway: Fuck you very much, you unscrupulous bastard.

Malcolm Tucker: So how's the rebrand going?
Nick Hanway: Ok. We've booked him for a photo op on Tuesday, he's taking the family to a harvester.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, Jesus Christ. Really? "Have you been to a harvester before, Prime Minister?" "No, in fact I've never been actually out of the fucking house with my family before".
Nick Hanway: Anyway, look, do you know the name of the guy who's booked to go on Today in the morning?
Malcolm Tucker: Sure, yeah... Do YOU know?
Nick Hanway: Yeah, we've just found out. So, you know who it is.
Malcolm Tucker: Offcourse I know! There's nothing that you know that I don't know. I'm Doctor fucking Know.
Nick Hanway: Who is it?
Malcolm Tucker: Are you testing me now? 'Cause I could test you and we could have a big match of testostothone. I mean how do I know that you've got the fucking name anyway?
Nick Hanway: Because Hugo at Today told us.
Malcolm Tucker: Right.
Nick Hanway: So what name have you got?
Malcolm Tucker: [long pause] Dan Miller!
Nick Hanway: Oh, ok, so you do know...
Malcolm Tucker: 'course I fucking do...
Nick Hanway: Look, Tom's announcing his team in the morning and I got to to stop Dan Miller from announcing his team two hours before we announce ours, so if you wanna get on the bus...
Malcolm Tucker: That is my mission. You, mister Nutty-Bar, have given me a task. Jesus Christ! Who the fuck does Tom think he is?
Nick Hanway: The next Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Malcolm.
[Turning to leave]
Malcolm Tucker: Nick. Tell mighty fucking Tom that his transition will be as smooth as a Brazilian's fudd.
Jamie: [Jamie comes into the office] Oh, Trinny and Susannah! I'm sorry to burst into your little fucking boutique, but you've got a fight on your hands! That's all I'm saying, I'm backing a rival candidate, so fuck you and fuck you and your Nutter coronation 'cause it ain't happening!
Nick Hanway: You're backing Dan Miller, are you?
Jamie: No, I'm not backing Dan Miller, don't you fucking ever ask me a question again!

Jamie: Malcolm, what's the fuck happening?
Malcolm Tucker: Tom's in trouble.
Jamie: Good.
Malcolm Tucker: His numbers are falling.
Jamie: Good.
Malcolm Tucker: So I suggested that they take a look at another runner.
Jamie: Claire Ballantine? Ok... I'm not hating that. That's not total shit.
Malcolm Tucker: Are you in on this?
Jamie: I'm not leaving it to you, hey? You couldn't organize a bum rape in the barracks.
Malcolm Tucker: Au contraire.

Oliver Reeder: [on the phone, after the antidepressants thing breaks] Hello.
Malcolm Tucker: Right, what's the plan?
Oliver Reeder: They don't have a plan.
Malcolm Tucker: Perhaps you should give them one.
Oliver Reeder: Oh, yes, fantastic, actually, Malcolm, because I have a very suitable one attached to the underside of my scrotum, so why don't we...
Malcolm Tucker: Shut it, you're using up all the minutes on my talk-to-your-head-cancer tariff. Listen, get hold of Nick. Ask him if he's thought of sounding out another body. Suggest Claire Ballantine. She's highly regarded, she's clean, and she could, theoretically, occupy the same space as Tom. Call me in three.

Oliver Reeder: Nick's ready to dump Tom if Ballantine's up for it.
Malcolm Tucker: [gravely] You've made me very very happy.
Oliver Reeder: Yeah, you look it.

Robyn Murdoch: The Mail's got hold of a story about Ben being racist to a cleaner and saying racist things!
Terri Coverley: Yeah, and they're gonna run with a headline "Uncle Tom's Cabinet", which is gonna be a really big problem for us, actually, because it's a very very good headline!
Ben Swain: I'm not a racist! I'm so not a racist! One of my best friends is an Asian! No, I know that sounds...
Malcolm Tucker: [to Jamie] You! That's it! I'm not standing for that! It's over! You're fucking a dead man walking!
Jamie: You think I leaked this?
Malcolm Tucker: What do you think I am, seven years old?
Jamie: Kiss my bollocks, this has got nothing to do with me!
[to Ollie]
Jamie: It was you!
Oliver Reeder: No, it wasn't fucking me! Why would it be me? I thought we'd be working together in the new administration!
Glenn Cullen: The new administration! Listen to the First Lady!
Oliver Reeder: Shut up, Glenn. Shut up.
Jamie: I've got it!
[about Robyn]
Jamie: It was fucking Johnny Mitchel here, it was her!
Robyn Murdoch: I've leaked nothing!
Jamie: What are you talking about?
Robyn Murdoch: Other than the incidental leak, obviously.
Malcolm Tucker: [to Jamie] I know it was you. You're a pint pot Judas.
Jamie: It wasn't me!
Malcolm Tucker: A pint pot Judas!
Jamie: I'm five foot ten!
Malcolm Tucker: Well, you don't feel that.
Glenn Cullen: Malcolm. It wasn't him. It was me.
Jamie: Oh, fuck off.
Oliver Reeder: No way. No way.
Glenn Cullen: I've been leaking for 27 years, I know how it's done. I leaked!
Oliver Reeder: You don't leak! Well, not from the mouth, anyway.
Malcolm Tucker: Just fucking shut up. At least this is Hugh's Glenn. All you are, mate, is fucking Ben's Glenn.

Malcolm Tucker: Hey, it's Nutter Nick!

Malcolm Tucker: You've got that bullshit Watford story covered, yeah?
Jamie: Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: You and I will have a little discussion later!
Jamie: I think Watford will get bumped by the fact that we're about to hand the nuclear codes to a guy who, every now and then, loses it so bad he needs SatNav to find his own nipples.
Malcolm Tucker: What are you talking about?
Jamie: I just thought it was fair to let everyone know about the Tom rumors, you know. How the guy who's about to become Prime Minister chuggs antidepressant like they're fucking Smints. How the black dog humps his leg and shits in his duvet every four months! I think that they'll bump the Watford walkout.
Malcolm Tucker: You gone fucking psycho, son. Fucking psycho. Twat!
Malcolm Tucker: [cut to Number 10, Nick and Malcolm are both on the phone] The leader of the Nutters is a nutter! Jesus , my niece is funnier than that, she just makes jokes about poo! No, I don't think that they will run with it because it's liveless. It's just as liveless as the Hugh Edwards rumor. Look, it's not my jurisdiction anyway, Nick Hanway looks after Tom, not me. Thanks, bye!
Nick Hanway: Oh you're not dealing with this then?
Malcolm Tucker: Yes I am dealing with it, but oficially you're dealing with it, because I don't wanna step on any toes.
Nick Hanway: Everyone gets down now and again, don't they? Loads of people take antidepressants, millions.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, your potential Prime Minister, for one.
Nick Hanway: Oh, "your" potential Prime Minister, not "ours".
Malcolm Tucker: Oh look, don't start with the fucking semantics shit again. You know what I call "semantics"? Wank!
Nick Hanway: So, what do you say, we bury it?
Malcolm Tucker: Are you asking me to manage this?
Nick Hanway: Tom's not sure about you.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, Tom's enormously mental in the head, that's what we've just been discussing.

Malcolm Tucker: Nick, I've just had the Mail on the phone. They're running with the Tom story.
Nick Hanway: That's not looking good.
Malcolm Tucker: No, it's not good, I'm sorry, it's everywhere, spreading faster than a rent-boy's cheeks. We're gonna need a plan B here.
Nick Hanway: What about... Geoff Holhurst?
Malcolm Tucker: His head photographs quite badly, so...
Nick Hanway: Ok... Do you think Ben could run?
Malcolm Tucker: If you think... I mean, look, it's up to you, Nick. If you think... I can try him out, if you think he will...
Nick Hanway: Yeah. Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: Let's get him in. Give him a wash and brush-out. We'll botox his eyes open! I'll get the press to stop calling him Blinky-Ben.
Nick Hanway: Yes.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah?
Nick Hanway: That's a matter of priority.

Ben Swain: Have you tracked Dan Miller?
Malcolm Tucker: No, he's nowhere, man, he's fucking nowhere. The good news, however, is that the Tom wobble is over. That's great, isn't it?
Ben Swain: Yeah! So, he's not wobbling, he's... What does it mean?
Malcolm Tucker: Well it means that all the rats are now returning to a very buoyant ship and a plain deck, so that's lovely, isn't it?
Ben Swain: What does it mean for me?
Malcolm Tucker: I guess that means that you are standing in a chamber in the House of Commons with your big flaccid dick hanging out, with a "vote for me" sticking on the end.
Ben Swain: But you said I had a chance! Half an hour ago you said I was in with a shot!
Malcolm Tucker: Don't fucking get... Look, half an hour ago you were in with a shot! This is half an hour hence! We've fucking time-travelled, yes? We're in a weird and wonderful world where everything is different! Maybe outside the polar ice caps have melted! Maybe there's fucking robots knocking about and Davina Maccoll is the new Pope! Maybe you can download rice! I want you, right now, to think about your own future, ok? Think about what you are doing, get yourself back on the train to fucking Thomasville pronto, yeah? "Half an hour"...

Malcolm Tucker: Right, hi Geoff, don't stand. No no, I mean don't stand against Tom. Now you see what I did there? I was both being funny and also deadly seroius.
Geoff Holhurst: Now where did you hear that, Malcolm?
Malcolm Tucker: Never mind where I heard that. The thing is Geoff, you're gonna waste everybody's time...
Geoff Holhurst: I'm not standing, Malcolm, I'm just trying to start a debate. You know, a policy debate, future direction of the party.
Malcolm Tucker: ...because, first, you've got no credentials. You're so back-bench, you've actually fucking fallen off. You're out by the fucking bins where I put you. Secondly, I'm gonna tell the Mirror about all the drinking, and thirdly, I'm gonna tell the Mail about the affair and fourthly, you've got tiny head.
Geoff Holhurst: No I haven't!
Malcolm Tucker: Yes you have, it's out of proportions, everybody mentions that! Now, you see, you're shaking it and I can hardly see it move! Are you shaking it now? I can't tell!
Geoff Holhurst: I'm not standing, ok! My head is the right size!
Malcolm Tucker: It's very petite. So you're not standing? You will not stand against Tom?
Geoff Holhurst: I said, I've bloody said!
Malcolm Tucker: OK. Thank you Geoff, let's have lunch sometime, yeah? Have a tête-à-tiny-tête.
Geoff Holhurst: Jesus!

Malcolm Tucker: [to Ollie] If you don't go and get me some cheese, I'm gonna rip your head off, and give you spinedectomy.

Jamie: Oh, Trinny and Susanna! I'm sorry to burst into your little fucking boutique, but you've got a fight on your hands! That's all I'm saying, I'm backing a rival candidate, so fuck you and fuck you and your Nutter coronation 'cause it ain't happening!
Nick Hanway: You're backing Dan Miller, are you?
Jamie: No, I'm not backing Dan Miller, don't you fucking ever ask me a question again!
Malcolm Tucker: Fatty?
Jamie: Oh, aye, Fatty, wee Spiderman in his fucking pijamas, what a fucking idea. From now on it's a proper fight! It's a pomp-fight, Motherwell rules! And Tom is gonna get a pint glass in his fucking eye and a pool cue up his arse and another pool cue in his other fucking eye!
Malcolm Tucker: Geoff Holhurst!
Jamie: What, Mister Baby New Potato-Head? Fuck off.

Malcolm Tucker: He's on the radar! Dan Miller's fucking broken cover! He's on his way here, he's gonna be here in fifteen to see Nick.
[to Ollie]
Malcolm Tucker: I want Jamie, I want Ben and
[to Glenn]
Malcolm Tucker: I want you there. Get down there, come on! I need you there! I need a MAN! And you're a man! Come on!

Malcolm Tucker: Nick, good news! I've killed the antidepressants story! I've been onto the Mail, they're not gonna run it. The wobble is over. Tom is now cycling with stabilizers.
Nick Hanway: That's great news. How did you do it?
Malcolm Tucker: Ah, I'd be telling you... But you'll let him know, yeah? You will tell the new Prime Minister who stopped this, yeah? 'Cause if you were to take all the credit well I may have to let him know that you were responcible for starting this Ben-running thing.
Nick Hanway: Ben was just an option.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, yeah, yeah, well just you make sure I'm inside the tent, pissing out. In fact, forget the fucking tent, I want a caravan of my own, adjoining Tom's, with a big pissing veranda.

Malcolm Tucker: What's that, cricket, that's the English equivalent of sport isn't it? No actual phisical contact, just glaring.

Malcolm Tucker: [coming into an office where Julius and Glenn are listening to a radio and eating] Oh God, it's like a prostate consultant's waiting room in here.

Malcolm Tucker: [comes into a room where Glenn, Julius and Ollie are eating take-away] What is this, feeding time?
[to Ollie]
Malcolm Tucker: You on solids? I thought you were still on the tit.

Malcolm Tucker: The leader of the nutters is a nutter, Jesus, my niece is funnier than that and she makes jokes about poo.

Malcolm Tucker: Has anybody seen Jamie?
Glenn Cullen: Why? Have you lost him?
Oliver Reeder: Oh, don't tell me he's gone feral, because he was fucking terrifying when you had him on the leash!

Malcolm Tucker: I'll get the Press to stop calling him Blinky-Ben.
Nick Hanway: Yeah. As a matter of priority.

Malcolm Tucker: Hey, it's nice Nutter Nick!

Robyn Murdoch: It's just Jamie, I find him just a little bit frightening...
Malcolm Tucker: Relax, he has never hit anyone! Or at least anyone he hit has never had the balls to take it to a superior! It's a fucking joke, it's a joke, ok? The man is a professional, you will be fine!

Glenn Cullen: Actually, Malcolm, we still have no word on Dan Miller, he's gone dark, he's not answering his phone...
Malcolm Tucker: Maybe he's in a hotel with his own huddle! Ring around, try and find him.
Glenn Cullen: What, ring every hotel in London and ask if Dan Miller's booked in?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah! Although he could be using an assumed name...
Glenn Cullen: So, you want me to ring round every hotel in London and ask if anyone of any name has booked in?
Malcolm Tucker: Keep you busy! You know, you have to keep the mind active at your age.

Nick Hanway: Tom's not sure about you...
Malcolm Tucker: Tom is enormously mental in the head, that's what we've just been discussing.

Jamie: Malcolm, what's the fuck happening?
Malcolm Tucker: Tom's in trouble.
Jamie: Good.
Malcolm Tucker: His numbers are falling.
Jamie: Good.
Malcolm Tucker: So I suggested that they take a look at another runner.
Jamie: Claire Ballantine? Ok... I'm not hating that... That's not total shit.
Malcolm Tucker: Are you in on this?
Jamie: I'm not leaving it to you, you couldn't organize a bum rape in the barracs.
Malcolm Tucker: Au contraire.

Nick Hanway: Tom's announcing his team in the morning and I've got to to stop Dan Miller from announcing his team two hours before we announce ours, so if you wanna get on the bus...
Malcolm Tucker: That is my mission. You, mister Nutty-Bar, have given me a task. Jesus Christ! Who the fuck does Tom think he is?
Nick Hanway: The next Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Malcolm.

Malcolm Tucker: 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, you know - Tom meeting the Pope, Tom in a NHS hospital chatting to little, baldie kiddies. I want pages four and five to be a timeline of British politics with ME at the center, looking fucking indispensable and fucking benign, and I want page six to be fucking Israel or some bullshit, not a fucking DoSAC deepshit legacy-distracting COCKUP!

Malcolm Tucker: Nick, I've just had the Mail on the phone. They're running with the Tom story.
Nick Hanway: This is not good...
Malcolm Tucker: No, it's not good, I'm sorry, it's everywhere, spreading faster than a rent-boy's cheeks. We're gonna need a Plan B here.
Nick Hanway: What about... Geoff Holhurst?
Malcolm Tucker: His head photographs quite badly, so...

Malcolm Tucker: [to Ollie] If you don't go get me some cheese, I'll rip your head off, and give you a spinedectomy.

Ben Swain: Where does it leave me?
Malcolm Tucker: I guess it leaves you standing in a chamber in the House of Commons with your big flaccid dick hanging out, with a "vote for me" sticking on the end.

Glenn Cullen: I've been leaking for 27 years, I know how it's done. I leaked!
Oliver Reeder: You don't leak! Well, not from the mouth, anyway.
Malcolm Tucker: Just fucking shut up. At least this is Hugh's Glenn. All you are, mate, is fucking Ben's Glenn.
Oliver Reeder: "Ben's Glenn"? That's all I am, I'm Ben's Glenn.
Ben Swain: What's wrong with that? It's not like it's a disease!
Oliver Reeder: It's not the "Ben" bit, it's the "Glenn" bit.

Malcolm Tucker: Right, hi Geoff, don't stand.
[Holhurst sits back down]
Malcolm Tucker: No no, I mean don't stand against Tom. Now you see how I did that? I was both being funny and also deadly serious.
Geoff Holhurst: Now where did you hear that, Malcolm?
Malcolm Tucker: Never mind where I heard that. The thing is Geoff, you're gonna waist everybody's time...
Geoff Holhurst: I'm not standing, Malcolm, I'm just trying to start a debate. You know, a policy debate, future direction of the party.
Malcolm Tucker: ...because, first, you've got no credentials. You're so back-bench, you've actually fucking fallen off. You're out there by the bins. Secondly, I'm gonna tell the Mirror about all the drinking, and thirdly, I'm gonna tell the Mail about the affair and fourthly, you've got tiny head.
Geoff Holhurst: No I haven't!
Malcolm Tucker: Yes you have, it's out of proportions, everybody mentions that! Now, you see, you're shaking it and I can hardly see it move! Are you shaking it now? I can't tell!
Geoff Holhurst: I'm not standing, ok! My head is the right size!
Malcolm Tucker: It's very petite. So you're not standing? You will not stand against Tom?
Geoff Holhurst: I've said, I've bloody said.
Malcolm Tucker: OK. Thank you Geoff. Let's have lunch sometime, yeah? Have a tete-a-tiny-tete.
Geoff Holhurst: Jesus!

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] Jamie... What's that sort of droning noise in the background there? What, kind of boring, kind of low, sort of droning, boring, kind of miserable, whining, kind of, sort of boring noise going on?
Jamie: Yeah, well you've got it wrong!
Malcolm Tucker: Cliff fucking Lawton. Hey, nice. Was the Cillit Bang guy not available?
Jamie: Fuck you.

Malcolm Tucker: [to Nick] You know what I call "semantics"? Wank!


In the Loop (2009)
Simon Foster: Judy and I thought I could row back on Question Time, tonight
Malcolm Tucker: You're not going on Question Time tonight, you've been disinvited
Simon Foster: We've been prepping Question Time!
Judy: Why wasn't I told about this?
Malcolm Tucker: Why the fuck would I tell you about it? I've just told you to fuck off twice yet you're still here?
Judy: You should tell me about it as it's a scheduled media appearance by a member of this department and therefore it falls well within my purview!
Malcolm Tucker: Within your 'purview'? Where do you think you are, some fucking regency costume drama? This is a government department, not some fucking Jane fucking Austen novel! Allow me to pop a jaunty little bonnet on your purview and ram it up your shitter with a lubricated horse cock!
Judy: Your swearing does not impress me. My husband works for Tower Hamlets and believe me those kids make you sound like... Angela Lansbury!
Malcolm Tucker: [to Simon] She's married? Poor bastard.

Malcolm Tucker: Fuckity bye!

Malcolm Tucker: "Climbing the mountain of conflict"? You sounded like a Nazi Julie Andrews!

Malcolm Tucker: Y'know, I've come across a lot of psychos, but none as fucking boring as you. You are a real boring fuck. Sorry, sorry, I know you disapprove of swearing so I'll sort that out. You are a boring F, star, star, CUNT!

Malcolm Tucker: This is the minister of international development here, he should be talking about... food parcels... not... fucking, arse-spraying mayhem!

Malcolm Tucker: You sure you're working as hard as I am, 'cause I'm sweating spinal fluid here!

Malcolm Tucker: General Flintstone... Was it you? Did you leak PWIP-PIP?
Lt. Gen. George Miller: No, I didn't leak it. I'm not like some little gay mercenary running around doing other people's dirty work.
Malcolm Tucker: Hey, I'm doing my own dirty work. I'm doing my job.
Lt. Gen. George Miller: I think you're doing Linton's dirty work. You're his little English bitch and you don't even know it. Bet if I came to your hotel room tonight, I'd find you down on all fours, him hanging out the back of you.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, that's nice. That's really tough talk coming from the Armchair General. Put your feet up on a pouffe and go back to sleep, why don't you.
Lt. Gen. George Miller: Look, Tucker, you might be some scary little poodlefucker over in England, but out here you're nothing. You know what you look like? A squeezed dick. You got a big blue vein running up your head all the way to the temple. See, that's where I'd put the bullet. Only I'd have to stand back 'cause you look like a squirter.
Malcolm Tucker: Have you ever even actually killed anybody? Really?
Lt. Gen. George Miller: Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: Falling asleep on someone, that doesn't count!
Lt. Gen. George Miller: That's funny. What about you, pussy drip? Ever kill anyone?
Malcolm Tucker: Maiming's what I prefer. Psychologically.
Lt. Gen. George Miller: Yeah? Why don't you try to maim me? I'll hit you so hard in the face you'll be shitting teeth.
Malcolm Tucker: Go right ahead. I can see the headlines now. "Peace-Loving General Starts Brawl in U.N., Swiss Intervene". I don't know, I'm no expert on spin but that could hurt your career.
Lt. Gen. George Miller: Yeah?
Malcolm Tucker: Right. Do excuse me, I've got to get back to work.
[pause]
Malcolm Tucker: Don't ever call me fucking English again.

Toby Wright: [looking at George Washington monument] See that? Pull that out, America deflates.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, it's very easy to mock. The closest you'll ever get to one of those is buying a fucking Toblerone. I'll wait in the car.
Simon Foster: So what are we going back to, apart from a nice cup of tea and some knife crime?
Toby Wright: Constituency surgery in Northamptonshire.
Simon Foster: Oh, great. Meeting my constituents. It's like being Simon Cowell, only without the ability to say, "Fuck off, you're mental".

Malcolm Tucker: Do I look like I've ever set foot in a stationery cupboard? I do all my shagging in five-star hotels!

Linton Barwick: It's early days, my friends. All roads lead to Munich.
[leaves]
Malcolm Tucker: 'All roads lead to Munich... ' What the fuck does that mean?
Simon Foster: Well, I think it means, uh... actually, no, no, I don't know what it means.

Sir Jonathan Tutt: Let me tell you the process here, Malcolm, and why that's not possible...
Malcolm Tucker: Just fucking do it! Otherwise you'll find yourself in some medieval war zone in the Caucasus with your arse in the air, trying to persuade a group of men in balaclavas that sustained sexual violence is not the fucking way forward!

Simon Foster: That's not supposed to be out there...
Malcolm Tucker: Well, it is out there, it's out there now, lurking like a big hairy rapist at a coach station. You know, if I could, I'd punch you into paralysis!

Malcolm Tucker: You concentrate on nothing! You stay detached, or else that's what I'll do to your retinas.
Simon Foster: Can I go to bed now, please?
Malcolm Tucker: Oh no. We're gonna stay here, and you are gonna rehearse saying nothing.
Simon Foster: ...Am I being tortured?

[first lines]
Malcolm Tucker: Good morning, my little chicks and cocks.

Malcolm Tucker: Fucking hung up, haven't you? You fucking hoity-toity fucking...
Tourist: Hey, buddy? Enough with the curse words, all right?
Malcolm Tucker: Kiss my sweaty balls, you fat fuck.
[he runs into the distance]

Malcolm Tucker: Linton! Linton!
Linton Barwick: Mr Tucker, isn't it? Nice to see you again.
Malcolm Tucker: Are you fucking me about?
Linton Barwick: Is there a problem, Mr Tucker?
Malcolm Tucker: I've just come from a briefing with a nine-year-old child.
Linton Barwick: You're talking about AJ. AJ is one of our top guys. He's a Stanton College Prep, Harvard. One of the brightest and best.
Malcolm Tucker: Well, his briefing notes were written in alphabetti spaghetti. When I left, I nearly tripped up over his fucking umbilical cord.
Linton Barwick: I'm sorry it troubles you that our people achieve excellence at such an early age. But could we just move on to what's important here? Now, I understand that your Prime Minister has asked you to supply us with some, say, fresh British intelligence, is that true?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, apparently, your fucking master race of highly-gifted toddlers can't quite get the job done...
Linton Barwick: All right.
Malcolm Tucker: ...between breast feeds and playing with their Power Rangers. So, an actual grown-up has been asked to fucking bail you out.

A.J. Brown: So, you made it in OK, right?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, hunky-dory, thanks. Can I get a coffee?
A.J. Brown: Sure, sure. If we just get started, my assistant should be bringing in coffee shortly.
Malcolm Tucker: Your assistant?
A.J. Brown: Yeah. So, item. We need to have a conversation about the mood of the British Parliament, the bumps in the road ahead and what not.
Malcolm Tucker: I'm sorry, I don't... This situation here is... Is this it? No offence, son, but you look like you should still be at school with your head down a fucking toilet.
A.J. Brown: Your first point there, the offence? I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it. Your second point, I'm 22, but item, it's my birthday in nine days, so... if it will make you feel more comfortable, we could wait.
Malcolm Tucker: Don't get sarcastic with me, son. We burned this tight-arsed city to the ground in 1814. And I'm all for doing it again, starting with you, you frat fuck. You get sarcastic with me again and I will stuff so much cotton wool down your fucking throat it'll come out your arse like the tail on a Playboy bunny. I was led to believe I was attending the war committee.
A.J. Brown: Yes, Assistant Secretary of State Linton Barwick asked me to brief you on the work of the Future Planning Committee.
Malcolm Tucker: I'm away.
[AJ's assistant walks in with the coffee]
Malcolm Tucker: And here we are. The fucking Vice President has also graced us with his presence. Give him a bottle of milk.

Sir Jonathan Tutt: So, you must be Simon. I'm the British Ambassador to the UN, Sir Jonathan Tutt. Well, this is it, ladies and gentlemen. This is the United Nations. We, sir, are in here. So, if there's anything you need, just give me a whistle. You know how to do that, don't you Malcolm? What do you do? Hm? That's right. You put your lips together and you blow. I'm going to head up to this delegates' reception. I hope there's some nibbles, because I'm ravenous.
Malcolm Tucker: Nibbles. Who still says "nibbles"?
Toby Wright: Fuck the nibbles. What was with the homoerotic tension?

Malcolm Tucker: Right. Was it you?
Simon Foster: No, it wasn't. No. What?
Malcolm Tucker: You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?
Simon Foster: No. And... And... whatever it was, I almost certainly didn't do it.
Malcolm Tucker: Was it you, the baby from Eraserhead?
Toby Wright: No, no.
Malcolm Tucker: Then it must have been you, the woman from The Crying Game.
Judy: It wasn't me.

Jamie MacDonald: Well, if it isn't Humpty Numpty.
Simon Foster: What is this? Surround bollocking?
Jamie MacDonald: Hey, with due respect, I hadn't finished. If it isn't Humpty Numpty sitting on top of a collapsing wall like some clueless egg cunt. Now, I'm finished.
Simon Foster: Hi, Jamie, this is Toby.
Toby Wright: Oh, um... Toby Rice, I'm Simon's aide.
Jamie MacDonald: Hi, Toby, Toby. Very pleased to meet you. Please sit down. Now, right, that's enough of all the fucking Oxbridge pleasantries.
Toby Wright: What's Oxbridge about saying hello?
Jamie MacDonald: Shut it, Love Actually! Do you want me to hole punch your face?
Malcolm Tucker: Right, I'm off to deal with the fate of the planet. Be gentle with them.
Jamie MacDonald: Oh, you know me, Malc. Kid gloves... but made from real kids. Right, Butch and Gaydance, this wall story is playing badly. There's a cartoon of you in here as a walrus.
Simon Foster: A walrus? I'm not fat, I don't even have a moustache. Fuck, they've given me tusks.
Jamie MacDonald: Wal-rus. You get it? Wal-rus, wal-rus.
Toby Wright: We called some builders. They didn't turn up when they said they would.
Jamie MacDonald: What did you expect? They're builders! Have you ever seen a film where the hero is a builder? No, no, because they never fucking turn up in the nick of time. Bat-builder? Spider-builder? Huh? That's why you never see a superhero with a hod!

Malcolm Tucker: 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.
Judy: I can't do that, can I? That's political.
Malcolm Tucker: 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!
[to Toby]
Malcolm Tucker: Hey, you! Ron Weasley, you do it.

Linton Barwick: So, we're getting a little close to the wire, Mr Tucker. Where is that intel, huh? What sort of intel have you rustled up?
Malcolm Tucker: Ah, the smoking intel?
Linton Barwick: Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: Well, honestly, I haven't got it.
Linton Barwick: You haven't got it? All right. OK. Well, then, can you delay the vote? lt'd give you the time to get it.
Malcolm Tucker: I've just had it brought forward.
Linton Barwick: I am telling you, delay the vote and make yourself some time to get the intel, because I need it, my friend.
Malcolm Tucker: Hey. OK. Just a quick reality check here, J Edgar Fucking Hoover, I don't work for you. You don't fucking tell me what to do.
Linton Barwick: OK. Firstly, don't raise your voice. This is a sacred place. Now, you may not believe that and I may not believe that, but, by God, it's a useful hypocrisy. And, secondarily, I believe your Prime Minister has instructed you to work for me. Oh, the great Malcolm Tucker. One of your guys leaks a paper - you can't do anything. Huh? We tell you to get some intel - you can't do anything. I need you to move the vote back - you can't do anything. I am afraid you are nothing but a useless piece of S star-star T.

Simon Foster: Come on, Malcolm, he asked me for a personal opinion.
Malcolm Tucker: 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?
Simon Foster: I would have blacked up, yes. It was radio, nobody would've known.

Malcolm Tucker: All right now, my lovely friends, the bottom line is...
Michael Rodgers: Oh, God, I hate that phrase. "Bottom line." I mean, we're not in retailing.
Malcolm Tucker: Sorry. Michael's quite right. I won't use that again. The bottom line is the President is going to the UN. This will be the vote to commence military intervention. And the Prime Minister has decided that we should join him. Rob, Innis, Little Bo Cock Jockey and the Leakey Fucking Mingebox, go back to your desks and prepare to start briefing now.
Simon Foster: Michael, do you mind if we use your office?
Michael Rodgers: What?
Simon Foster: For a couple of minutes?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah. Michael, sorry. Bottom line is, can you come out again?

Malcolm Tucker: Simon, I don't like finding out about people employed by this government via the news unless they've just died. Be here, now,

Malcolm Tucker: Right, OK. Is it up, have you got it up?
Jamie MacDonald: Yeah, it's all fine.
Malcolm Tucker: Ok, cut the top paragraph and paste it into page five.
Jamie MacDonald: Right, yeah, we've done it.
Malcolm Tucker: Page six, get rid of the footnotes.
Jamie MacDonald: Done.
Malcolm Tucker: Go to, uh, page nine.
Jamie MacDonald: Go to page nine.
Malcolm Tucker: Highlight from that page right thru the end of the document.
Jamie MacDonald: Go on... do it.
Michael Rodgers: The caveats.
Malcolm Tucker: Right, OK, delete.
Jamie MacDonald: Right, Ok, we're doin' it. Delete it.
Michael Rodgers: You, you can't delete the arguments against the war.
Jamie MacDonald: Oh, there's a little shake of the head here, Malc. I think he's crashed.
Malcolm Tucker: Just give him a thump. That usually works.
Jamie MacDonald: Let me just try a wee bit of manual override. Let's see if it is possible to delete the arguments against the war. Hey, you could delete it after all. It's done.
Malcolm Tucker: Great, right, now attach that to an e-mail.
Jamie MacDonald: Yes, got it, got it.

Malcolm Tucker: In the words of the late, great Nat King fucking Cole, unforeseeable, that's what you are.

Malcolm Tucker: Christ on a bendy-bus. Don't be such a fucking faff arse.

Malcolm Tucker: When you go to America, talk to Karen Clark at the State Department, yeah?
Simon Foster: Right, OK. I'll give it a whirl.
Malcolm Tucker: Keep away from Linton Barwick. He's pushing the war for Caulderwood's lot. I'll deal with him. He uses a live hand grenade as a fucking paper weight. That's a true story.

Simon Foster: So, this is all going to spin along from here. We're going to have a vote and go to war. We'll fight people, kill them. Our children will get killed. This is exactly the sort of thing that I didn't want to do when I went into politics. This is the opposite of what I wanted to be doing.
Malcolm Tucker: That's why you have to stay in Government, to influence things. In here, you can influence things, you can delay things. Out there, you're just another fucking mouthy, fucking shouty mad fucker who people don't want to make eye contact with. Remember Mary? Remember what happened? She took a stand on health. Everybody decided that she was mental.
Simon Foster: Because The Sun showed a picture of her with wide eyes and her head on a cow.
Malcolm Tucker: Well I happened to find that a particularly powerful image. Look, the Prime Minister of this country, he's not a fucking Viking, is he? He doesn't drink blood. He doesn't go around biting tramps.
Simon Foster: I know the Prime Minister isn't a Viking, Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: Unlike me, he abhors physical violence.
Simon Foster: Where is the intelligence, the hard evidence?
Malcolm Tucker: We have got the fucking intelligence.
Simon Foster: I haven't seen it.
Malcolm Tucker: The intelligence we've got is so deep, so fucking hard, it'll fucking puncture your kidneys.
Simon Foster: Where's it coming from?
Malcolm Tucker: There is an informant. Ice Man.
Simon Foster: Ice Man?
Malcolm Tucker: I don't name them. Ice Man. Yeah. And the fact is, the stuff that he's given us is... I've seen it. It would make your blood run cold and clot and turn your insides into fucking black puddings. But certain box lickers are sitting on it, but you're going to see it, because the PM regards you as a key player in this now.

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] Hi. BBC News Desk, please. Malcolm Tucker. Hi, Ben. Listen, I hear that you might be preparing a story that we might not like. Yeah, please. I just wanted to say, please, this garden-wall story, don't run with that. Simon Foster's constituency office wall. That's what you've got, haven't you? Oh, shit. I haven't let the cat out of the bag, have I? Please, don't run with that. My reputation will be in tatters.
[hangs up]
Malcolm Tucker: And he is gone!

Malcolm Tucker: You say nothing, okay? You stay detached. Otherwise that's what I'll do to your retinas.
Simon Foster: Right, can I go to bed now, please?
Malcolm Tucker: No, no, no, no. We are gonna stay here, and you are gonna rehearse saying nothing.
Simon Foster: Am I being tortured?

Malcolm Tucker: Hey, Foetusboy, Lesson One: I tell you to fuck off, what do you do?
Toby Wright: Eff off?
Malcolm Tucker: You'll go far, now fuck off.

[from trailer]
Malcolm Tucker: I will marshal all the forces of darkness to hound you into an assisted suicide.

Simon Foster: [Answers knock at hotel room door] Come in. I just wasn't expecting to see you here. Well, not physically here. You're always in my heart.
Malcolm Tucker: I'm here. I'm there. I'm fuckin' everywhere. I'm the eggman.
Simon Foster: Have you come to insult me in a different time zone?


"The Thick of It: The Rise of the Nutters" (2007)
Malcolm Tucker: [to Ben Swain after the Newsnight incident] You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra.

Malcolm Tucker: [preparing Ben for going on TV again] Get him properly fucking screen-tested! I'm sorry, mate, but you need a lot of powder. I've never seen anyone look so fucking ugly with just one head!
Ben Swain: No, I've lost my... erm... safety...
Malcolm Tucker: Who was it that did your media training? Myra Hindley? It's terrible! All these hands all over the place! You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra! It was like watching John Leslie at work!
Ben Swain: Yes, I know all that. It just, kinda, fell away. It's like one of those dreams when you're wandering around Covent Garden with just a west and everyone's staring at you.
Jamie: It was much worse than that. I mean, how many people see you at Covent Garden? A few thousands? Your meltdown was witnessed by 1.2 million people! That's more people than saw Al Jolson in his fucking career! And that's Al fucking Jolson!
Malcolm Tucker: He loves Al Jolson.
Jamie: The Guvnor!
Oliver Reeder: Maaameee!
Jamie: You take the piss out of Al Jolson again and I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano-sheath and push it up your cock! Then I'll put some speakers up your arse and put it on shuffle with my fucking fist. And every time I hear something that I don't like, which will be every time that something comes on, I will skip to the next track by crushing your balls!

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone to Jamie while watching Ben live on Newsnight] He's like a chicken, he's like an enormous chicken!

Malcolm Tucker: What is going on with this coalface bullshit, Terri?
Terri Coverley: What this? What this? I don't understand...
Malcolm Tucker: The Opposition fat-fighting immigration.
Terri Coverley: There was an official request this afternoon from Stewart Pearson, their PR guy. I saw no legitimate reason to stop it, so... And he was very nice.
Malcolm Tucker: He was nice?
Terri Coverley: Good manners cost nothing, Malcolm. Just because you two were raised by Scottish wolves!
Malcolm Tucker: Jesus Christ! Is it this fucking easy to get into your knickers? 'Cause if I was you, I would go down to the clap clinic and get them have a good look up you!
Terri Coverley: Listen, I followed procedure!
Jamie: What about the two ticks?
Terri Coverley: I didn't have to do the two ticks! I put a memo through to Julius, he ok-d it and it is going ahead!

Malcolm Tucker: You and me, Ollie, hey? I just realised that we're on the same boat, yeah? I mean, obvioulsy, I'm up on the bridge with the binoculars and the Richard Gere gear on, you're down in the engine room trying not to get bum-raped by a bunch of big lads with shovels, but, essentially, it's the same boat!
Oliver Reeder: Sorry, what boat is... are we discussing?
Malcolm Tucker: The thing is, people like you and I, Ollie, we need time, right?
Oliver Reeder: Right.
Malcolm Tucker: We need time to ease the transition from one regime to the next. And I've been hearing from a very nasty, very baldie little bug that we might not be getting the time that we need to make the alliances that we need to ease the transition.
Oliver Reeder: Ok, so...
Malcolm Tucker: I want the Opposition to make an announcement for me.
Oliver Reeder: The Opposition?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah. I want them to announce the hiving off of immigration to a non-political executive body.
Oliver Reeder: That's... that's the PM's legacy!
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah.
Oliver Reeder: But the Opposition... It's different party, Malcolm. I can't make them do things, even YOU can't make them do things.
Malcolm Tucker: Where's all this education? Where does it normally go when it comes to this kind of moment?
Oliver Reeder: I understand that it's
[puts up one hand]
Oliver Reeder: this party and
[puts up the other hand]
Oliver Reeder: this party and we're
[indicates hands]
Oliver Reeder: this party and they're this party, and therefore how can I influence that?
Malcolm Tucker: You take
[puts up his hands the way Ollie did]
Malcolm Tucker: this and this and you put it onto your bird's breasts, and you rub them and squeeze them very very gently, you get her into the sack, you bang her fucking brains out, you make sure that she comes and you just give her the policy!
Oliver Reeder: But I... I chucked her. In a kind of 'it's not you' it's me' sort of... but it IS you, you hideous, vacuous, slow bitch from hell!
Malcolm Tucker: I'm really not interested at all in your little tiff. Get round her, take your Barry White album and your lube and your fucking policy folder!
Oliver Reeder: Malcolm, this is really crossing the line!
Malcolm Tucker: Don't start with the moral objections, you fucking Blue Peter badge wearing ponce! Go and make a contribution to the fucking Amnesty International! Go and buy a goat a whole village can fuck, but you are doing this for me!
Oliver Reeder: Malcolm! You're bullying me, and I dunno why you're bullying me...
Malcolm Tucker: How dare you! How dare you! Don't you ever, EVER, call me a bully! I'm so much worse than that.

Malcolm Tucker: Mannion is not announcing early enough!
Oliver Reeder: Malcolm, they're the Opposotion! They've got they're own mind, they can make it up! I can't control them, you can't control them! You don't even answer to me, like a one-man guerilla army operating against your own fucking government!
Malcolm Tucker: This is not the day for you to be brave with me, boy, let me tell you that. You're no fucking Andy McNab.

Malcolm Tucker: [to Ben] I want you to announce a policy for me. And I want you take the full credit and be the face of it.
Ben Swain: This is an overture, then, Malcolm. You coming round to the Nutter way of thinking? You bailing out on the PM?
Malcolm Tucker: No, no, offcourse not.
Ben Swain: What's your policy? What's your idea?
Malcolm Tucker: Taking immigration out of political control.
Oliver Reeder: Hang on, you're giving it to him now, are you?
Malcolm Tucker: I'm gonna bang you on Newsnight, right? And you are gonna fly this time, my friend. You are gonna light up the sky! Where's your phone? Give us your phone.
Ben Swain: I'm not... Newsnight? How are we gonna pay for it? They'll ask me that, how're we gonna pay for this?
Malcolm Tucker: Ollie, where's the money coming from?
Oliver Reeder: We can just cancel something that's already on the slate, maybe?
Ben Swain: Brilliant, I'll say that, that'll be great, thank you, Carole Vorderman.
Oliver Reeder: Well, why don't we say that we're wrapping up the citizenship program with this. I mean, it won't end up, but then they'll find it very hard to prove because we never actually said how much citizenship costs in the first place.
Malcolm Tucker: That'll do. Ok. This. Is. It. This is it!
Ben Swain: No, hold on, I've got to have a think about it! No, don't wave my phone at me, that's not gonna help!
Oliver Reeder: He's doing the blinky thing again.
Malcolm Tucker: Right, if you're not gonna go on, I'm gonna get
[points to Ollie]
Malcolm Tucker: this giggling streak of piss to go on to Newsnight, I don't even fucking care! Let it be his chinless, sulky little face that everyone sees for the whole of the next week!
Ben Swain: Oh... Fuck it, I'll do it!

Malcolm Tucker: [to Jamie, while trying to get in touch with the PM after hearing about the resignation] What happens to me, right? What happens to me? He's gone, right? Does he lift the phone? Does he fuck!

Julius Nicholson: [on the phone] Malcolm Tucker! To what do I owe the pleasure?
Malcolm Tucker: This coalface bullshit is gonna make us look like a bunch of gurning wankers!
Julius Nicholson: We will not look like gurning... people. They point out the problems, we solve it. It's a damn slight more subtle than raising it ourselves.
Malcolm Tucker: You actually want the Opposition to do this? We are through the looking glass now, folks. Fuck me!
[to Ollie, Jamie and Ben]
Malcolm Tucker: We're gonna get My Little Pony... erm... young Benjamin here to announce that he's going to the coalface, and we're gonna do this before the wankers do, ok?

Malcolm Tucker: [coughing after smoking a cigar] Oh... That's like smoking dead skin, that is!
Jamie: It's not a proper cigar! Proper cigars are those big Cuban whoppers, that is just a jumped up fag.
Malcolm Tucker: [Ollie comes over] Talking of which.
[to Ollie]
Malcolm Tucker: Do you fancy a cigar? I promise I won't tell any of the other prefects.
Jamie: Hand-rolled on a thigh of a Cuban virgin with big tits and four kids.
Oliver Reeder: Yeah, thanks. Malcolm, I just wondered if we could have a quick word, actually. The Opposition have got the week at the coalface idea, they're gonna do it.
Jamie: Who? When?
Oliver Reeder: Peter Mannion, I don't know when.
Malcolm Tucker: How the fuck did they get that? Your fucking girlfriend! Jesus Christ!
Jamie: You should have dumped that mad bitch ages ago!
Oliver Reeder: I would have done, I would have done, she IS mad, she's a mental woman but you two kept telling me to go out with her and stay going out with her just in case I found anything else!
Jamie: 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!

Malcolm Tucker: [to a couple of Ben's people] Off you two fuck.

Malcolm Tucker: [meeting with Nicholson. Malcolm passes Jamie a note] "Please could you take this note, ram it up his hairy inbox and pin it to his fucking prostate."

Malcolm Tucker: [to Ben] Jamie's gonna stay with you, ok? He'll be by your side until the interview is over, even if you take a dump.
Jamie: Even if I take a dump, eh? And I shit alot... Smoking and a fast metabolism.
Ben Swain: Well, fantastic, we'll spend the day defecating together. It's the glamor of this job that I so much enjoy.

Malcolm Tucker: [a party, Ben comes in] Oh, here he is. Dead man walking.
Jamie: [blinking and making faces] "I-I-I-I wish you stopped saying that!" What's your favorite band? Blink 182?

Jamie: Will this help to fuck the Nutters or not?
Julius Nicholson: Look James, those Nutters, they do not operate in a vacuum. They're part of the party, they're part of government. I mean, Ben Swain is going on Newsnight tonight, God knows what's that gonna throw up.
Malcolm Tucker: His lunch. I mean, a big nothing, junior Nutter being interviewed by a dwarf hack.
Julius Nicholson: That is a Paxman interview.
Malcolm Tucker: No, it's not Paxman. Are you sure of that?
Julius Nicholson: Yes Malcolm, I'm sure it's Paxman. I've just spoken to Pat Morissy, she's confirmed it half an hour ago.
Malcolm Tucker: She's ticked this? Well, fine, you know, Paxman, I mean he's lost his teeth anyway, he's like Russel fucking Hearty these days.
Jamie: Without the element of danger.
Malcolm Tucker: [after the meeting] What happened to my tick?
Jamie: I don't know.
Malcolm Tucker: God, I just got it and now Pat's taken it away! It's a two-ticks system and she gets both fucking ticks!
Jamie: Pumpkin-ticks.
Malcolm Tucker: She's got a fucking enormous box as well.

Oliver Reeder: Well, just check the lines with Pat Morissy, then we'll...
Jamie: Pat Morissy?
Oliver Reeder: Yeah.
Jamie: What, Fat Pat? Pumpkin-tits?
Oliver Reeder: Yeah. Pat and Communications have asked that everything be double-ticked through her from now.
[to Tucker]
Oliver Reeder: Well you get a tick as well, obviously.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, obviously. Well that's very very nice of them, that's very fucking big of them. I get a tick?
Oliver Reeder: It's two ticks for a green light, basically.
Malcolm Tucker: Pat Morissy. The Communications is full of Nutters this days!
Jamie: As soon as the PM said he'll be gone inside of a year the Nutters start popping-up like mela-fucking-noma.
Malcolm Tucker: [to Ollie] See you later. See you in a tick.
Jamie: [to Ollie] What about you? You're not a Nutter, are you?
Oliver Reeder: I'm not a Nutter, Jamie. I'm a nipper.

Malcolm Tucker: What is going on with this coalface bullshit, Terri?
Terri Coverley: What this? What this? I don't understand...
Malcolm Tucker: The Opposition fat-fighting immigration.
Terri Coverley: There was an official request this afternoon from Stewart Pearson, their PR guy. I saw no legitimate reason to stop it, so... And he was very nice.
Malcolm Tucker: He was nice?
Terri Coverley: Good manners cost nothing, Malcolm. Just because you two were raised by Scottish wolves!

Terri Coverley: [on the phone, about Peter Mannion in the Immigration center] When everyone went out of the office he just Googled his name.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, that's always fun. Although I find it quicker just to poke needles in my eyes.

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone, talking about the "Silly Tucker" article] The story isn't me, Glenn, ok? Nobody is interested in me and I'll be pleased if you would remember that, ok?
Glenn Cullen: You sure you don't want me and Hugh to come back, we could give you some cover?
Malcolm Tucker: Hugh is not coming back, it will look like we're panicking and we're not panicking, but I need you back here fucking ASAP to let them know that we're not panicking!
Glenn Cullen: So you want me to interrupt my holiday in a panic so Hugh doesn't have to interrupt his holiday and look like he's panicking?
Malcolm Tucker: You get back here! I wanna see you popping a bollock for me!
[hangs up. Jamie comes into the office with the article]
Jamie: You seen this?
Malcolm Tucker: No, I haven't seen that. I'm the senior press guy for the government of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. No, I don't look at the newspapers, that's fucking news to me!
Jamie: Allright, allright, what are we doing?
Malcolm Tucker: What are we doing? Fuck all, we're not doing nothing, because I am not the story here!
Jamie: You kind of are the story, Malcolm. They spelled your name right and everything.
Malcolm Tucker: Look, I'm not doing nothing. Not drawing attention to it!
Jamie: I'm not drawing attention to it.
Malcolm Tucker: You're drawing MY attention to it!
[Jamie looks at the article]
Malcolm Tucker: Stop looking at it!
Jamie: Allright, allright, we'll stay frozen to the fucking phone, we'll send the media to Coventry, that will help.
Malcolm Tucker: That WILL help, that is the way I wanna play it, ok? I'm going for a walk.
Jamie: A walk?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, what, I don't need your fucking permission to go for a walk!
Jamie: No,no.
Malcolm Tucker: I can go for a walk?
Jamie: Yeah, I just never seen you going for a walk before.
Malcolm Tucker: How do you think I get in here in the morning? How do I get from the front door to here, I fucking walk, don't I?
Jamie: Yeah, but you don't go FOR a walk.
Malcolm Tucker: I'm away for a walk!

Malcolm Tucker: You and me, Ollie, hey? I just realized that we're on the same boat, yeah? I mean, obvioulsy, I'm up on the bridge with the binoculars and the Richard Gere gear on, you're down in the engine room trying not to get bum-raped by a bunch of big lads with shovels, but, essentially, it's the same boat!

Oliver Reeder: [Tucker's trying to get Ollie to use his now ex-girlfriend Emma for his political schemes again] Malcolm, this is really crossing the line!
Malcolm Tucker: Don't start with the moral objections, you fucking Blue Peter badge wearing ponce! Go and make a contribution to the fucking Amnesty International! Go and buy a goat a whole village can fuck, but you are doing this for me!
Oliver Reeder: Malcolm! You're bullying me, and I dunno why you're bullying me...
Malcolm Tucker: How dare you! How dare you! Don't you ever, ever call me a bully! I'm so much worse than that.

Malcolm Tucker: [Julius stops Malcolm and Ben from spoiling the PM's Legacy announcement on Newsnight] Right, that's your 15 minutes up. Should have been a bit faster off your feet. Just don't clearly mention the policy.
Ben Swain: Well, I can't... Then you'll have to cancel it.
Malcolm Tucker: Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, you've just watched me break my not-inconsiderable balls trying to get you the second spot on Newsnight. And succeding! I can't back down! No, no, you're on, pal, right? And it better not be too boring, and it better not be too interesting either, ok? And it better not cost too much. It can't be an old thing, obviously, and don't make it too new. And whatever you do, please try not to embarrass yourself, right?

Julius Nicholson: Right, I want one minute of your time, Malcolm. Just thought you'd like to know that thanks to the mailstorm of confusion and the toing and the froing and the chopping and the changing, the Legacy project has now been ditched. The Prime Minister decided to pull it. Yeah, I hope you're happy about that, Malcolm. I'm sure you are.
Malcolm Tucker: You know, Julius, if I wasn't an heterosexual man I would kiss you.

Malcolm Tucker: Ah, Paxo, I'll miss him when he has that massive coronary.

Jamie: [after the PM's announced his resignation] You fucking dick! This is all down to you, you know!
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, don't be so fucking stupid!
Jamie: You're a fucking Nutter!
Malcolm Tucker: I'm not a Nutter!
Jamie: Oh, you are going Nutter, mate!

Julius Nicholson: [after the PM's surprising resignation] I can't believe it. That was not the date.
Malcolm Tucker: You can say that again.
Julius Nicholson: I was given the incorrect date, rather than the date was changed or the original date was not the actual date.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, I fucking know that.
Julius Nicholson: I can't believe he didn't tell me the fucking date! That is fucking rude, isn't it? I think my diaries will make a pretty interesting reading. Don't try to sack the chief examiner over his son's retake, oh yes, I think they might make an interesting reading, actually.


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.4" (2012)
Malcolm Tucker: [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.

Oliver Reeder: Did you actually buy my flowers, Malcolm?
Malcolm Tucker: No, no, no, it's one of the many advantages of living close to an accident black spot.

Oliver Reeder: [referring to Nicola Murray's career] Is that it then? Is she fucked?
Malcolm Tucker: Like Caligula's favourite watermelon.

Nicola Murray: [after Malcolm barges into her office unannounced] Still not knocking, Malcolm?
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, sorry, it's an old habit from my time in the Haitian death squads.

Malcolm Tucker: When you come back, it'll be as Foreign Secretary.
Ben Swain: And you mean Foreign Secretary? That isn't code for Northern Ireland? I'm not fucking going there.

Malcolm Tucker: [walking in on a meeting between Ben Swain and Dan Miller and addressing Dan] Oh, here she is, Pippa Middleton trying to steal the limelight with your peachy little ass.

Ben Swain: I hereby tweet "I have resigned. More to follow." Didn't seem that momentous.
Malcolm Tucker: How many followers have you got?
Ben Swain: 612, or odd thereabouts.
Malcolm Tucker: Christ, let's hope it gets re-tweeted, otherwise you might as well just whisper it to a dead tramp.

Malcolm Tucker: [holding up his iPhone] These phones are amazing, aren't they? I've got an app that can throw a grenade into people's dreams.

Malcolm Tucker: [gesturing people over to watch Nicola's resignation speech on TV] Come on, everybody, this is history in the making. This is the ending of a chapter of a very thin book that nobody enjoyed reading.

Malcolm Tucker: Somebody get me a fucking Fanta!

Dan Miller: Should we get Ben?
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, he'll be back. Like the shit Terminator.

Malcolm Tucker: I'm looking for Mr. Oliver Reeder, he looks a bit like a Quentin Blake illustration.

Malcolm Tucker: [to Oliver, on phone] What have you got for me, Professor Brian Cock?


"The Thick of It: Episode #2.1" (2005)
Jamie: Where's Neil?
Malcolm Tucker: Leicester. Poor fucker! You'd think that once you'd achieved a certain status, you might be excused to visit Leicester, wouldn't you?
Jamie: Have you seen the Whip's numbers?
Malcolm Tucker: NOMFuP.
Jamie: Eh?
Malcolm Tucker: NOMFuP. N-O-M-F-P. Not My Fucking Problem. I quite like that. Did you like that? I'll use that quite a lot today.
[to a passing by communications guy]
Malcolm Tucker: Hey, well done on Fatty's profile! Very very good! I nearly liked the enormous fucker, reading it!
Jamie: What if the MoD breaks tonight? What I'm hearing is, the overspend's getting more brutal by the hour. They're talking about topping at one, one and a half billion. Obviously, that's a lot of nurses.
Malcolm Tucker: Or one fantastically enormous robotic one, yeah?
Jamie: Obviously.
Malcolm Tucker: And how's the Minister?
Jamie: He's shitting himself!
[laughs]
Jamie: He's practically kissing his driver goodbye. He said he felt like he's in the Twin Towers on the 9/11, just fucking waiting.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, for fuck's sake. Everybody know their lines, right? IT projects, always overspend.
[to Sam]
Malcolm Tucker: D'you think you could manage me a desent cup of tea? Would that be possible? Thank you. Try not to drip in it.
[Sam leaves. To Jamie]
Malcolm Tucker: I tell you, the thing that worries me... is this dodgy?
Jamie: I dunno. The kid's firm was the second lowest bid, he says they never talked, what does it matter?
Malcolm Tucker: No, well, you know me, I'm a man of principle, I like to know whether I'm lying to save the skin of a tosser or a moron.
Jamie: Probably a moron.

Malcolm Tucker: [shouting] Sam! A coffee and a fucking skinny muffin, if that's possible!
[sees Ollie waiting in the hall]
Malcolm Tucker: What the fuck are you doing here?
Oliver Reeder: I thought you said today, Malcolm. Did you not say...?
Malcolm Tucker: I mean what are you doing there? Come on.
[go inside Tucker's office]
Oliver Reeder: Oh, right, sorry, I just didn't want to interrupt. Never know what you're doing in here.
Malcolm Tucker: Well, if the PM's giving me a blow job I always put a sign up.

Malcolm Tucker: [on the way to the Communications office] Hey Jamie! This is Ollie!
Jamie: THE Ollie? The stuck-one-up-the-Opposition-for-us Ollie? Good fucking man! Good to meet you!
Malcolm Tucker: This is Jamie, he'll be looking after you.
Oliver Reeder: Oh, great, another Scot, I see. Does everyone needs to be in the Caledonian Mafia to, erm...
Malcolm Tucker: Everybody, this is Ollie! He's the guy who fucked the Opposition for us!
[everybody cheer]
Oliver Reeder: That was quite an introduction.
Jamie: Just nod when the big fucker talks, do whatever I say.
Malcolm Tucker: Actually it's the other way around. Look, Jamie's gonna put you in touch with a guy called Paul. Paul vets all the stuff that we input into the attack. Technically, you shouldn't be doing this here, but the main frame's not here, right? So technically you're not!
Oliver Reeder: Sorry, stuff about Emma?
Malcolm Tucker: About Emma, yeah.
Oliver Reeder: [dissapointed] Oh.
Malcolm Tucker: Hey, Ollie, I know that you're dead brainy, but look, I've got brains coming out of my fucking arse. What I need is political intelligence.
Oliver Reeder: I just feel a bit awkward, you know...
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, it's make-your-mind-up time, Ollie! I mean, what do you want to be? Do you want to be a prick that works here for a year, then goes away and joins a think-tank to write "oh, on one hand this and on the other hand that", or do you want to be a soldier?
Jamie: Have you got your eyes on the prize?
Oliver Reeder: I've got my eyes on the prize.
Malcolm Tucker: Good.
Oliver Reeder: What is the prize?
Malcolm Tucker: I don't know, you need to ask the brainy guys. I'll settle for just keeping us in government instead of the wankers you're shagging!

Malcolm Tucker: [shouting at Geoff Holhurst] How much fucking shit is there on the menu and what fucking flavor is it?

Malcolm Tucker: [Ollie's mobile phone rings] Are you not going to get that, Olly?
Oliver Reeder: No. I've been on that all day. Microwaves. I've got a tumour coming on
Jamie: [in a slightly camp voice] I think I've got a touch of the brain tumours as well. Not much of a fucking soldier, is he?
Malcolm Tucker: He's a lover, not a fighter.

Mark Davies: Malcolm, this is a traditional old-fashioned news story called "Minister looks a tit".
Malcolm Tucker: Hey, everybody looks a tit, you know? Take two of these shots of him looking moronic out, leave a couple in of him looking a little bit dim, put one of him composed, drop it down the running order, and we've got a deal.
Mark Davies: I'm not... Deal? What deal, Malcolm? He looks a tit, that's it. I'm sorry.
Malcolm Tucker: But there is a difference between allowing someone's natural tittishness to come through and just exploiting it through camera work here. You're sticking one tit moment on top of another tit moment! That wouldn't happen in real life.

Jamie: Have you seen the Whip's numbers?
Malcolm Tucker: NOMFuP.
Jamie: Eh?
Malcolm Tucker: NOMFuP. N-O-M-F-P. Not My Fucking Problem. I quite like that. Did you like that? I'll use that quite a lot today.

Malcolm Tucker: Hey Jamie! This is Ollie!
Jamie: THE Ollie? The stuck-one-up-the-Opposition-for-us Ollie? Good fucking man! Good to meet you!

Jamie: [to Ollie, about Malcolm] Just nod when the big fucker talks, do whatever I say.
Malcolm Tucker: Actually it's the other way around.

Malcolm Tucker: Is this dodgy?
Jamie: I dunno. The kid's firm was the second lowest bid, he says they never talked, what does it matter?
Malcolm Tucker: No, well, you know me, I'm a man of principle, I like to know whether I'm lying to save the skin of a tosser or a moron.
Jamie: Probably a moron...

Malcolm Tucker: It's make-your-mind-up time, Ollie! I mean, what do you want to be? Do you want to be a prick that works here for a year, then goes away and joins a think-tank to write "oh, on one hand this and on the other hand that", or do you want to be a soldier?
Jamie: Have you got your eyes on the prize?
Oliver Reeder: I've got my eyes on the prize.
Malcolm Tucker: Good.
Oliver Reeder: What is the prize?
Malcolm Tucker: I don't know, you need to ask the brain guys... I'll settle for just keeping us in government instead of the wankers you're shagging!

Malcolm Tucker: [trying to get the news people to edit the footage of Hugh being confronted by an angry member of the public into something less embarrassing] And do you know about that woman? Have you made any enquiries into the background of that woman?
Mark Davies: I'm sure my researchers have, yes.
Malcolm Tucker: Yes, your researchers have. Well, I've got to tell you I don't think they have.
[his phone rings]
Malcolm Tucker: Just excuse me a second.
Oliver Reeder: [phoning from the office at Number 10] Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: Have you anything on the woman?
Oliver Reeder: Well, I've got Frankie up there now, just rooting through the bins. Hang on a second.
[speaks into another phone]
Oliver Reeder: Have you got anything?
Frankie: [outside the woman's house, literally going through her dustbins] Nothing. Er... bloody chips, Daily Mail, bin stuff.
Oliver Reeder: Nothing, Malcolm. Just bin stuff.
[Malcolm thinks for a moment, then goes back into the editing room]
Malcolm Tucker: BNP, Mark. She's standing for the British National Party. Stamford Bridge.
Mark Davies: [thumps his desk in disappointment] For fuck's sake!
Malcolm Tucker: Very straightforward. Basic stuff, Mark. Do your research. Standing for the British National Party.
Mark Davies: All right, what do you want, Malcolm?
Malcolm Tucker: Two little bits of tit. Two titties.


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.1" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] He's making Paul Remmington a cabinet minister. Rem-tard Remmington. I mean the guy is an epic fuck-up. He's so dense, that light bends around him.

Malcolm Tucker: I've got a to-do list here that's longer than a fucking Leonard Cohen song.

Malcolm Tucker: All right, Hinge and Bracket. It's time to hang up your lady cocks.

Malcolm Tucker: Is that you chair?
Nicola Murray: Oh god, yeah. It's cool, isn't it? It's got lumbar support.
Malcolm Tucker: Bin it. People don't like their politicians to be comfortable. They don't like you having expences, they don't like you being paid, they rather you lived in a fucking cave.
Nicola Murray: Okay, fine. So what should I be sitting on? Should I just get an upturned KFC bucket?
Malcolm Tucker: A fucking normal chair, right? Not a fucking massive vibrating throne!

Nicola Murray: Katie's sixteen, she's the oldest. She's just left the school.
Malcolm Tucker: Not going to a college, a university?
Nicola Murray: Umm, she's a bit of a rebel.
Malcolm Tucker: What sort of a rebel? What are we talking here, are we talking a pierced navel or holidays in Pakistani training camp?
Nicola Murray: It's chiefly heroin. Although she has cut down since getting pregnant by that Nigerian people smuggler, because the track marks would have affected her porn carreer.

Nicola Murray: I thought you'd know about the kids.
Malcolm Tucker: It's just that you were a sort of late-ish kind of appointement. That didn't quite give me the time to to fuck the i's and fist the t's, as Robert Robertson might say.

Nicola Murray: My family is off limits, alright? This job is not going to get anywhere near my husband and my kids. Just doesn't.
Malcolm Tucker: Of course it fucking does, as per the wee bar code and the serial number under your right armpit you are now built and owned by this state and you're under the spotlight 24 hours a day, darling! You know what you are? You're a fucking human dart board. And Eric fucking Bristow's on the oche throwing a million darts made of human shit right at you!

Malcolm Tucker: You hit the phones, right? I'll be with you in two shakes of a crying baby.

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] Well you know, Howard, she's not bent, either in the sense of being corrupt or being gay. And by the way, that's an incredibly homophobic headline, you massive poof. You've got egg on your face, Howard, you over-easy piss-bag.

Nicola Murray: I don't use lifts, I'm claustrophobic.
Malcolm Tucker: You're what?
Nicola Murray: Not hugely - I can be in rooms, you've seen that. I just don't do lifts, that's all.
Malcolm Tucker: This lift is... I mean, it's fucking huge! This is bigger than some rooms! This is bigger than some people's flats!
Nicola Murray: It's about not being able to get out.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, well that's great. That's fucking great. That's another fucking thing, right there. Not only you've got a fucking bent husband and a fucking daughter that gets taken to school on a fucking sedan chair, you're also fucking mental! Jesus Christ, see you, you are a fucking omni-shambles, that's what you are. You're like that coffee machine, you know, "From bean to cup, you fuck up."

Malcolm Tucker: Glenn. See this Dickensian hysteric who's just gone home? Here's what you do, right? You're make out you're the Great Oz, yeah? You make a big noise to impress Nicola. But secretly, you're wanking behind the curtain to me all the time.
Glenn Cullen: You want me to pass information on to you?
Malcolm Tucker: Don't kill yourself, well not over this, you know. I just want you to make her feel good, you know? You can be a friend of Dorothy's, can't ya? Then we'll all get some fucking peace around here!

Malcolm Tucker: [to a fellow Communications guy] Hey, well done on Fatty's profile! Very very good! I nearly liked the enormous fucker reading it!


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.2" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: The PM is not going to sack you after a week. Sacked after 12 months - looks live you've fucked up. Sacked after a week - looks like he's fucked up.

Malcolm Tucker: Could you just pull in over here? And you could take out that cyclist as you go in, I think he's shadow cabinet.

Malcolm Tucker: Morning, desk-jockeys. Is glummy-mummy in?
Oliver Reeder: I think she's on the phone.
Malcolm Tucker: All right. Why don't I just cool my heels here?

Robyn Murdoch: Do you know, Malcolm? The best way to clear a paper jam?
Malcolm Tucker: I don't know. Kill a kid an hour until it sorts itself out?

Malcolm Tucker: Little pigs... Little pigs. Let me come in. Don't worry about the hair on the chiny-chin-chin.
Nicola Murray: So, what was your call?
Malcolm Tucker: What was my call? You want to know what my call was?
Nicola Murray: Was it important?
Malcolm Tucker: I'm sorry, I didn't realise that I had to run all my calls through your bed-wetters switchboard here. I usually just dial 118.
Nicola Murray: Malcolm, do you know?
Oliver Reeder: Obviously he knows.
Glenn Cullen: No, he doesn't know...
Nicola Murray: There has been a massive irretrievable data loss. The last 7 months worth of new immigrant details have gone, apparently lost in the computer.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh...
[laughs]
Malcolm Tucker: Do you know what's really fucking sad here is that I don't have the energy to pretend I already knew. Which is for the best, because I'm gonna need all of my fucking energy to fucking rip all of your bodies to bits with my bare hands and sell off, yes, sell off your fucking flayed skin as a sleeping bag to a fucking normal person!
Nicola Murray: Can I just say that getting angry isn't gonna help anything. I've done anger, I'm currently at grief, I'm working my way towards bargaining, whatever, you know, you're behind me...
Malcolm Tucker: So, what is your great strategy for dealing with this? Come on, I'm fucking all ears. I'm fucking Andrew Marr here.
Nicola Murray: So let's... Terri, let's hear what you...
Malcolm Tucker: Let's go, let's get going. High-level technical discussion, I'm up for it.
Terri Coverley: Right. Blaming the departmenet, minister, might be a high-risk strategy.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, high-risk. Saucy. Pass F.
Nicola Murray: My pitch would be - this departement is fatally flawed. It's out of condition, it's obese, it's astmatic.
Malcolm Tucker: That's it girl, back over the net.
Glenn Cullen: You need to be really sure about that, Nicola.
Malcolm Tucker: Yes, wise words from the distinguished elderly gay fucking tennis coach here.
Oliver Reeder: Seriously, I think we should talk about my strategy futher because I really think that's the way...
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, the fucking wee boy is having a go now with his fucking tiny shorts on.
[to Robyn]
Malcolm Tucker: What about Sue Barker's little sister here? What's she got to say? You've got something to say to add to the conversation?
Robyn Murdoch: No, just that there was no Lemon zinger so uhm... This is coffee, is that alright?

Malcolm Tucker: You're a new broom, you're sweeping up trouble with one end, broom handling incompetent staff up the tunnel with the other.

Malcolm Tucker: Please don't get up, I'm not Viagra.

Malcolm Tucker: John, how you doing. I just want to tell you, I really enjoyed your novel.
John: Oh, thank you very much.
Malcolm Tucker: Way of writing a fucking awful story.

Malcolm Tucker: Fuck's sake! Jesus Christ! We'll never get another fucking adjective... 'til I get to fucking smug and glum... we're fucking retarded! Jesus Christ! Do you not think it would have been germane to check who you're talking to... It's a fucking newspaper office, it's not a fucking sanatorium for the fucking deaf, is it? Are you so dense? Am I gonna have to run around slapping badges on people with a big tick on it, with a big cross on others so you know when to shut your gob and when to open it? Jesus Christ... Oh but that would probably confuse you as well, won't it, that'd be too confusing, you'd see the cross and go "oh, X marks the spot, better tell this little person all about the Prime Minister's fucking catastrophic erectile dysfunction". Oh but, not to worry. Not to worry, you've sent fucking Ollie over there to deal with it... Fucking Ollie! He's a fucking knitted scarf... fucking balaclava!

Malcolm Tucker: So do you think this is gonna advance your career? Is this you moving forward?
Marianne Swift: At least my career has got a trajectory, whereas yours is about to crash head-on into a change of governement.
Malcolm Tucker: Don't you worry girl, because I can still fucking steer some fucking flaming wreckage right in your fucking direction.
Marianne Swift: Yeah, I tell you what, once it's printed I promise I come'll back to you for a reaction quote, how's that?
Malcolm Tucker: Darlin', I wouldn't fucking piss on you if you were fucking allergic to piss, right?

Malcolm Tucker: Get over here. Now. Might be advisable to wear brown trousers and a shirt the colour of blood.

Malcolm Tucker: I just wanted to say to you by the way of introductory remarks that I'm extremely miffed about today's events and in my quest to try to make you understand the level of my unhappines, 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 Murray: I could actually do without the theatrics I think, Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: 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. You took the data loss media strategy and you ate with a lump of E.coli. And then you sprayed it our of your arse at 300 mph.
Nicola Murray: I simply made a mistake.
Malcolm Tucker: You got on the record and off the record fucking mixed up! What would have happened if like George Martin would have done that? They wouldn't be no fucking Beatles, that's what. No, I don't give a fuck about that. I'd have to fucking sit next to Paul McCartney in fucking checkers!
Nicola Murray: The data loss wasn't my fault.
Malcolm Tucker: Fine, yeah, but I tell you what. It came out fucking pretty fast once you were in there, didn't it? Which makes me wonder - should I just go and talk to the boss, should I go and tell him "I don't think she's up to the job."
Nicola Murray: You said yourself if he sacks me after a week that looks like HE's fucked up.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, but that was before; When your only problem was a fucking shit pun in a newspaper and a face like Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle.
Nicola Murray: Okay I messed up. Right? I messed up, but... I will from now on listen to every bit of advice you give me. I'll go on Question Time wearing a push up bra and a fez. I'll do the hustings on stilts if that's what you tell me the strategy is because you know about that stuff, Malcolm I know that. It's just that I've got things that I want to do, alright?
Malcolm Tucker: Of course you do, like Montessori fucking rocking horses I suppose.
Nicola Murray: No no no.
Malcolm Tucker: The Mail have the motherload on this - right? So that means there's a way through this for us but it entails you, my dear, eating a complete concrete mixer full of humble pie.
Terri Coverley: Right, what's the strategy?
Malcolm Tucker: The Kraken awakes!
Terri Coverley: No no - it's just that this is the first bit of the meeting that hasn't been about expletives and fezes and stilts and teabagging. I mean, this is the bit that relates to media management.
Malcolm Tucker: I didn't say anything about teabagging. Do you even know what teabagging is?
Terri Coverley: Not really, no. I'm told it's unpleasant. Who'd you want me to call?
Malcolm Tucker: The Mail. Get The Mail in. Okay, come on, The Cheeky Girls, that's it, back on tour.


"The Thick of It: Episode #1.2" (2005)
Hugh Abbott: God that's why the PM always looks so clued up, I always thought he was genuinely quite with it
Malcolm Tucker: No, no, he's as bad as you, he uses phrases like "with it" as well

Malcolm Tucker: Ok, this is what we're doing: I'm putting about through a number of cronies that Hewitt's piece was a packet of bollocks, he did it as a favor to Cliff.
Oliver Reeder: Cliff being...
Glenn Cullen: Cliff Lawton.
Malcolm Tucker: Hugh's predesessor. He and Hewitt are as tight as arse cheeks.
Hugh Abbott: [surprised] Are they now?
Malcolm Tucker: Fuck knows, but that's what we're saying, ok? It's personal, it's backslapping, it's borderline homoerotic, and you are the innocent victim of a nasty media stitch-up. I'm fixing you up with a "Me and My Media" piece with
[points to Ollie]
Malcolm Tucker: your ex Angela Heaney. But, this is a perfect opportunity to show just how clued-up you are, actually! Hughey Abbot, the in-touch guy! You're on the ball! You know the price for a pint of milk! You love HBO imports, VH1, Pixar, you dig the Streets.
Hugh Abbott: Yeah, yeah, yeah, they're all great.
Malcolm Tucker: You've got absolutely no fucking idea what I'm talking about, do you?
Hugh Abbott: Yes, I do.
Malcolm Tucker: Who's the only gay in the village?
Hugh Abbott: Eddie Grundy. I dunno... No, he has children. Mind you, alot of them do these days! Ben at the Foreign Office...
Malcolm Tucker: What's a chav?
Hugh Abbott: Ch... erm...
Malcolm Tucker: Hugh, what is a chav?
Oliver Reeder: Come on, you must know this!
Glenn Cullen: Chav!
Malcolm Tucker: Chav!
Hugh Abbott: Just saying "chav" isn't really helpful!
Malcolm Tucker: This is important stuff, Hugh! Right, we do a weekly digest for the Prime Minister, we boil down the week's television, cinema, music, so on.
Oliver Reeder: The Zeitgeist tapes.
Malcolm Tucker: Exactly, the Zeitgest tapes. EastEnders highlights, choice bits from all the reality shows, 10 seconds music videos, that kind of thing.
Hugh Abbott: That's why the PM always looks so clued-up! I always thought he was jenuenly quite with it.
Malcolm Tucker: No, no, he's as bad as you, he uses phrases like "with it" as well. Right, I'm gonna bike that over to Terri, watch it, ok? And listen, when you talk to Angela Heaney, remember to stick the boot into Hewitt. I'm putting it about that Cliff offered him two free weeks at his Toscan villa for that piece, ok?
Hugh Abbott: Ten-four, daddy-o!
Malcolm Tucker: Hey, hey, hey, this is serious! You've got 24 hours to sort out your policy on EastEnders, right? Or you're for the halal butchers!
[Ollie does an imitation of the EastEnders opening music]
Malcolm Tucker: Even he knows.

Malcolm Tucker: [shouting at Mary, the focus-group actress] You just want to think about what is gonna happen tomorrow!
Hugh Abbott: Because tomorrow, you are gonna find the press all over you.
Mary: In a good way?
Hugh Abbott: No, not in a good way!
Malcolm Tucker: You know that film Notting Hill, have you seen that?
Glenn Cullen: She's probably fucking in it!
Malcolm Tucker: You know the bit when the guy opens the door and there's like millions of journalists and hacks and photographers and all flash bulbs going off? In four hours time that's gonna be you, they're gonna be all over you like fucking cockroaches!
Hugh Abbott: [trying to calm a disstressed Mary] It's ok.
Malcolm Tucker: No, no, no, it's not ok, it's not going to be ok, and I tell you why. Because you're fair game, so I hope your knickers are clean because every seat-sniffing little shitbag that's ever filed a by-line is gonna be questioning you! Because now it's in the fucking public interest, isn't it? And they are gonna hit you with any shit they can find and you're gonna be spread out infront of them like a trollop in the stocks!

Malcolm Tucker: Did you watch the zeitgeist tape?
Hugh Abbott: Yeah, some of it, yeah
Malcolm Tucker: So do yknow your Eastenders, then? Do you know your Little Mo from your Big Mo?
Hugh Abbott: [badly imitating Eastenders theme tune] BOM BOM Bab bum bum
Malcolm Tucker: What?
Hugh Abbott: I haven't watched it, no

Malcolm Tucker: I'm connected, I'm plugged into the Matrix, I am The fucking Matrix
Hugh Abbott: Huh? Sorry?
Malcolm Tucker: Have you not watched that tape yet?

Malcolm Tucker: [night, everyone's in Tucker's office, except for Abbot, who's in the car on his way home] I've never seen headlines like it!
Oliver Reeder: In what way?
Malcolm Tucker: It's all gone to shite!
Glenn Cullen: Oh, the papers didn't like the policy?
Malcolm Tucker: They hate it, they fucking loath it! Are you getting all this, Hugh?
Hugh Abbott: [on the phone] Yes, you're very clear.
Terri Coverley: Do they all hate it? The Times?
Malcolm Tucker: Especially The Times.
Hugh Abbott: Wait a minute, the first edition hasn't even gone to bed yet, how do you know?
Malcolm Tucker: Because I'm connected, I'm plugged into the Matrix. I AM the fucking Matrix.
Hugh Abbott: Sorry?
Malcolm Tucker: Have you not watched that tape yet?
Hugh Abbott: I'm taking it home now, gonna watch it there. We just bought a new video player of the back of Alicia's obsession with Pingu.
Malcolm Tucker: Ok, I want you all to pay attention - this Arts policy is dead. Ok? As of now. Get a press release out and bung it in the owen. Fuck off, the lot of you.

Malcolm Tucker: Ok, this is what we're doing: I'm putting about through a number of cronies that Hewitt's piece was a packet of bollocks, he did it as a favor to Cliff.
Oliver Reeder: Cliff being...
Glenn Cullen: Cliff Lawton.
Malcolm Tucker: Hugh's predesessor. He and Hewitt are as tight as arse cheeks.
Hugh Abbott: Are they now?
Malcolm Tucker: Fuck knows, but that's what we're saying, ok? It's personal, it's backslapping, it's borderline homoerotic, and you are an innocent victim of a nasty media stitch-up.

Malcolm Tucker: All right, listen up, this is what we're gonna do: I'm bringing forward Hugh's interview with Angela Heaney to this afternoon. It goes out as a spoiler tomorrow morning. That way we can get our side of the story across and also piss all over Simon Hewitt's cornflecks, sadly only metaphorically, yeah? Allright, Ollie, call Heaney. Terri, get onto her editor. Glenn, book a room. Bodie, Doyle, you go round the back!
[all stare at him]
Malcolm Tucker: At times of stress, I make jokes!

Malcolm Tucker: Simon Hewitt, he's a fat guy with a dick the size of a bookie's biro

Malcolm Tucker: Ok, this is what we're doing: I'm putting about through a number of cronies that Hewitt's piece was a packet of bollocks, he did it as a favor to Cliff.
Oliver Reeder: Cliff being...
Glenn Cullen: Cliff Lawton...
Malcolm Tucker: Hugh's predesessor. He and Hewitt are as tight as arse cheeks.
Hugh Abbott: Are they now?
Malcolm Tucker: Fuck knows, but that's what we're saying, ok? It's personal, it's backslapping, it's borderline homoerotic, and you are an innocent victim of a nasty media stitch-up.

Malcolm Tucker: All right, listen up, this is what we're gonna do: I'm bringing forward Hugh's interview with Angela Heaney to this afternoon. It goes out as a spoiler tomorrow morning. That way we can get our side of the story across and also piss all over Simon Hewitt's cornflakes, sadly only metaphorically, yeah? Allright, Ollie, call Heaney. Terry, get on to her editor. Glenn, book a room. Bodie, Doyle, you go round the back!... At times of stress, I make jokes!


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.3" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] We need to pursuade Matt Delany not to cross the floor. I think we should use "The Carrot and The Stick" approach - you take the carrot and you stick it up his fucking arse, followed by the stick, followed by an even bigger, rougher carrot.

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone to the PM] I'm sorry, cheif, there's no way I can spin this health stats stuff, they're fucked. We'll have to put something else in the speech. Yeah, I don't know. Uhm... What about the missus? Can we bring her out again? Well, she basically has that thing of appearing to be a normal human being, that seems to play well.

Malcolm Tucker: [Glenn's in the bathroom after Tucker punched him. Tucker comes into the room] Where's the patient?
Glenn Cullen: I don't wanna speak to you right now, Malcolm.
Nicola Murray: I think you should leave.
Malcolm Tucker: Do you?
Nicola Murray: Yes. What, you gonna hit me?
Malcolm Tucker: I don't fucking hit women.
Oliver Reeder: Except Glenn, obviously.
Malcolm Tucker: Just fucking leave Glenn out of this. Glenn's been through enough as it is. Listen mate, I'm really... I'm really sorry about what happened at the heat of the fucking moment, yeah? I'm under a lot of pressure right now. I'm trying to plug a lot of leaks. I've had my finger in the dyke but the dyke's really very squirty.
Oliver Reeder: As in Fat Pat? I've heard that she's a...
Malcolm Tucker: Shut up. We're old soldiers, right? This is like the war time, ok? I mean, every now and then you're gonna get an incedent of friendly fire. Yeah?
Glenn Cullen: Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: Good man.

Malcolm Tucker: Let's roll some tits up the flagpole and see if anyone gets wood.

Malcolm Tucker: [wearing a tuxedo] Believe me, I'd like to slip into something a lot more comfortable, like a coma.

John Duggan: Hey, Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: Shite to see you, to see you...
John Duggan: Shite!

Malcolm Tucker: I know you leaked the punch story.
John Duggan: Fisty-gate.
Malcolm Tucker: Don't call it that! Where did you hear that?

Malcolm Tucker: Squeeze my cock and call me Nancy! Were you born in a barn, Glenn? Keep your door and your arse-cheeks fucking tightly closed, right? Jesus Christ, that's a tiny kettle!


"The Thick of It: Episode #2.3" (2005)
Malcolm Tucker: So, did you enjoy the show?
Glenn Cullen: You were magnificent, darling!
Hugh Abbott: Yeah, should I phone Keith so I can get his team to watch you bollock me now?
Malcolm Tucker: No no no. Have I got my bollocking face on?
Hugh Abbott: Well, I...
Malcolm Tucker: [making a seriously scary face] No, this is my bollocking face.
Hugh Abbott: Oh, crickey, yes. Thanks for the pot plant, by the way.
Malcolm Tucker: Did I send that?
Hugh Abbott: As an office warming present.
Malcolm Tucker: Christ, she's a great PA isn't she, Sam? She always remembers the little people. Look at the size of that fucker, you can fucking crucify somebody on that!

Malcolm Tucker: I like your tan, by the way. Have you declared it? Staying at the villa of an influential friend?
Hugh Abbott: I haven't got any influential friends, Malcolm. You are my only influential friend.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, yeah, and I'm not really your friend anyway.
Hugh Abbott: You're not really my friend.
Malcolm Tucker: So, this super-schools bill. You don't think it's so super, do you?
Hugh Abbott: You're doing it now.
Malcolm Tucker: What?
Hugh Abbott: That's your bollocking face.

Malcolm Tucker: Right, Terri, you're gonna give a press conference in 90 minutes and you're gonna apologise. There's your statement, learn it.
Terri Coverley: I... I organize the press conferences, I don't give them.
Malcolm Tucker: God, right, ok well, seen as you're not used to this, I'll go through it for you, ok? What happens at a press conference is this - a bunch of press people are gonna appear, they 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 keep your job, although you will forever be known as The Sweary Woman of Whitehall.

Man from another office: [interrupting a loud argument in Hugh's office] I'm sorry, can you stop swearing please?
Malcolm Tucker: [walks right up to his face] I'm really sorry, you won't hear any more swearing from us, YOU MASSIVE, GAY SHITE! FUCK OFF!

Malcolm Tucker: Right. How're you doing, in sorting out whether he lied or not, you doing ok?
Oliver Reeder: Pretty well, yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: Is that a lie?
Oliver Reeder: Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: That is not fucking funny, you retard!... I'm sorry about that, Glenn, the situation's just...

Hugh Abbott: Christ, Malcolm, how do you appear out of nowhere in a building made entirely of glass?
Malcolm Tucker: I'm a shape shifter.

Oliver Reeder: [standing several floors up in the atrium of their new building, looking down] Good spot for a suicide, this, I would think. Good long drop, appreciate audience.
Robyn Murdoch: What if you just broke your back? You know... you'd be paralysed for life and you'd still be depressed about the thing that was depressing you in the first place.
Terri Coverley: What are these, erm, hangy-down things?
Oliver Reeder: Oh, they're acoustic baffles. They stop it get too echoey, innit.
Robyn Murdoch: So when you're breaking your back, nobody can hear you screaming?
Oliver Reeder: Well, that is the kind of attention to detail that you get in a PFI building
Malcolm Tucker: [shouting up from the lobby] HEY! GET BACK TO WORK, ALL OF YOU!


"The Thick of It: Episode #1.1" (2005)
Cliff Lawton: Malcolm, look, if you do this, it's the bollocks of a jungle out there. They're like wolves, pissed wolves.
Malcolm Tucker: I've made the announcement, I've told the lobby you're going, Cliff.
Cliff Lawton: You've told the lobby I'm going?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, sorry, Cliff.
Cliff Lawton: Minister.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, get used to Cliff. I've booked you in for the usual soapy tit-wank farewell at Number 10 in twenty minutes. Also, drafted you a letter of resignation. Gives you the chance to say that you're jumping before you're pushed, although obviously we're gonna be briefing that you WERE pushed, sorry.
Cliff Lawton: Erm... look, you don't need to do all this. What about Tom? Everybody knows that he's fucking up Transport.
Malcolm Tucker: We can't sack Tom at Transport. We can't lose anyone at Transport, they're important.
Cliff Lawton: What, and Social Affairs isn't?
Malcolm Tucker: Ok, the Department of Social Affairs is very important, but it's not Transport! Transport's cars, buses, trucks!
Cliff Lawton: I know what Transport fucking entails!
[Tucker looks at him frighteningly]
Cliff Lawton: Look, I'll look at it.
[reads the resignation letter]
Cliff Lawton: Personal reasons?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, I thought it would give you adequate scope.
Cliff Lawton: Scope? What, like shooting up at the Cabinet office, or something? Stuffing a cat up my arse and having a wank, what do you mean, scope?
Malcolm Tucker: You know, this could be agreat deal worse. You have had a good innings, you've been here for 18 months. And, you know, I've written some very nice things about you in the PM's reply to your resignation. Some very nice fucking things indeed! I had a lump in my throat! And you know why? Because no one who matters thinks any less of you over this SO FAR, ok? Right, one more thing. The Daily Mail. David Topham has got it into his head that we are gonna sack you because of press presure.
Cliff Lawton: I wonder why.
Malcolm Tucker: Look, you are in no position to dish out fucking sarcasm, that's over! You no longer have purchase in the sarcasm world! Get on the phone! Tell him that you're jumping before you're pushed, although we were going to push you, but not because of press pressure but because of your deeply held fucking personal issues, whatever they are!
Cliff Lawton: You want me to write my own obituary.
Malcolm Tucker: Get on the fucking phone, do it now.

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] No, he's useless, he's absolutely useless. No, he is. He's as useless as a marzipan dildo.

Malcolm Tucker: Seriously, the PM likes you personally. I like you personally, and we have absolutely no desire to get rid of you. I just want you to know that. None of this negative stuff is coming from us.
Cliff Lawton: Oh, Mal, mate, that... makes a big difference, makes me feel a lot more secure.
Malcolm Tucker: Does it? Well, that's difficult.
Cliff Lawton: What's difficult?
Malcolm Tucker: Just endless headlines, just endless, day after day, chipping away at your confidence.
Cliff Lawton: Absolutely.
Malcolm Tucker: See, the thing is, that we're starting to look weak. Everyone say "When's he gonna go? When's he gonna go?".
Cliff Lawton: Right...
Malcolm Tucker: And you don't want us to look weak, do you?
Cliff Lawton: No, no...
Malcolm Tucker: So there you are. That's why you got to go.

Hugh Abbot: [on the phone, fter the Snooper Force announcement] Malcolm!
Malcolm Tucker: What the fuck was that? Was this the whole Snooper Force thing from you?
Hugh Abbot: Malcolm, I've talked to the PM and this is completely kosher as far as he's concerned. He gave the go-ahead and he said, you know, bounce the Treasury.
Malcolm Tucker: Don't you realise, we have got 17 different issues we are fighting with the Treasury about?
Hugh Abbot: I can hear that you are, as your usual, upset.
Malcolm Tucker: I'll tell you why I am upset. I'm upset because these fucking morons over at the Treasury, these people, they are so paranoid! If you don't tell them about stuff like this, if you don't even cc them on e-mail, they think you've started a palace coup!
Hugh Abbot: Malcolm...
Malcolm Tucker: You don't seem to understand that I am gonna have to mop up a fucking hurricane of piss here from all of these neurotics! What did the Prime Minister actually say to you?
Hugh Abbot: He actually said this is exactly the kind of thing we should be doing.
Malcolm Tucker: What did he actually say?
Hugh Abbot: He said this is exactly the sort of thing we should be doing.
Malcolm Tucker: 'SHOULD' be doing. 'Should' does not mean 'yes'.

Malcolm Tucker: I'm hacked off, mate.
Hugh Abbot: But we killed it, it's killed.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, "but once you start the fire, Malc, and we didn't start the fire, it's always burning since the world's been turning" et cetera, et cetera...
Hugh Abbot: So... Malcolm, you're not making any sence.
Malcolm Tucker: Prime Minister, obviously, he's on the plane in Stokholm, someone hits him with The World At One. He thinks it's the Treasury trying to stiff him one so he... he stuck with the story.
Hugh Abbot: He liked it?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah, he's backing the Snooper Force.
Hugh Abbot: Oh, right! We shouldn't really then... You shouldn't really have told us to... Should you?
Malcolm Tucker: Don't should me, Hugh, 'cause I'll should you right back. I'll should you right through that window! None of this should be happening, should it? Should it?
Hugh Abbot: Is that "should" in a sence of "yes"?
Malcolm Tucker: It's "should" in a sence "you should do as you're fucking told"!
Hugh Abbot: So what are we gonna do now?
Malcolm Tucker: You're gonna completely reverse your position.
Hugh Abbot: Hang on a second... Malcolm... That's not gonna be easy. That's gonna be quite hard.
Malcolm Tucker: Well, the announcement you didn't make today - you did.
Hugh Abbot: No, I didn't. And there were television cameras there while I was not doing it.
Malcolm Tucker: Fuck them.
Hugh Abbot: I'm not sure what level of reality I'm supposed to be operating on.
Malcolm Tucker: Look, this is what they run with. I tell them that you said it, they believe that you said it. They don't REALLY believe that you said it, they know that you never said it, but it's in their interest to say that you said it, because if they don't say that you said it, they're not gonna get what you say tomorrow or the next day, when I decide to tell them what it is you're saying.
Hugh Abbot: Yeah, I am following this, I just...
Malcolm Tucker: I had a friend who used to indulge in extra-marital affairs, ok? He'd go off and he'd have some dalliance and every Monday he'd come back and he'd meet his wife. And he told me that all he did that is inside his head turn a little switch - the affair never happened, ok?

Malcolm Tucker: [Ollie and Angela arguing. Tucker comes in] Hi, Angela! Oh, like the hair, nice little corkscrews. How's it going?
Olly Reeder: Fine. We were just talking about why Angela shouldn't do a big story on the big insidery piece, kinda day of spin, sort of spread in the paper...
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, I don't know. Maybe you should! Good idea!
[leaves. Then comes back]
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, wait a minute! I know why she shouldn't! Because , you know, if she did that, she'd be dead. To me, to this department, to the government. And she'll never get another story, or even 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 gauge her name out of their adress books so she'd never even get a job on a hospital radio where the sad sack belongs.

Malcolm Tucker: What did the Prime Minister ACTUALLY said to you?
Hugh Abbott: He actually said this is exactly the sort of thing we should be doing.
Malcolm Tucker: "SHOULD" be doing. "Should" does not mean "yes".


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.6" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: [responding to Terri's accusations of being wrong] How fucking dare you? Have you any idea of the amount of pressure that has been exerted on my skull, huh? It feels like my brain has been fucking emptied into little packets, into fucking crisp packets. Cheese and onion fucking crisp packets that contain my living, breathing fucking brain.
Terri Coverley: Malcolm, I'm really sorry. I...
Malcolm Tucker: And these crisp packets, cheese and onion, smoky bacon, have been stomped on. They've been fucking stomped on! Ben, fucking Nicola...
Terri Coverley: I didn't mean to be horrid.
Malcolm Tucker: And fucking you!
Terri Coverley: I'm sorry.
Malcolm Tucker: I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Terri Coverley: I'm sorry.
Malcolm Tucker: No, I'm over it, okay? Don't you apologise. Don't you fucking apologise. You don't need to apologise. I love this place. I do. I mean, fucking, compared to Number 10, this place is fucking tranquil, yeah? Over there, 300 yards down the road, I mean, it's like a fucking cancer ward. I mean, there are people in there, they're fucking screaming at each other. They are screaming, "You gave me this fucking disease." "You gave me this fucking disease." And every corner that I turn there's another threat, Terri. Hacks, hacks, fucking vampire hacks. And they're slaughtering us, Terri. They are fucking slaughtering us and they want my face for a flannel! And you know what? I used to be the fucking pharaoh, Terri. I used to be the fucking pharaoh. Now I'm fucking floundering in a fucking Nile of shit. But I am going to fashion a paddle out of that shit. Yeah?
Terri Coverley: Good idea.
Malcolm Tucker: I'm not going down. I am not going down. Yeah?
Terri Coverley: Yeah.
Malcolm Tucker: How are you feeling about things?
Terri Coverley: Well, you know, I'm just trying to do my best and, you know, make sure I can still get home by 6:00. Do you want a huggle?
Malcolm Tucker: No, I think... That's nice of you. I really appreciate it. Terri, it's been nice to have a chat but I have to get on. Let's get back on track.
Oliver Reeder: [after Tukcer leaves] What did he say?
Terri Coverley: I don't know. It was all about ancient Egypt.

Malcolm Tucker: [demanding to know how many journalists are outside their building] How many are there?
Oliver Reeder: Eight.
Malcolm Tucker: Right. Eight constitutes a lockdown. Right, people, listen up! It's a fucking lockdown, right now!
Nicola Murray: Come off it! We're not in a prison drama, are we?
Malcolm Tucker: We are in a prison drama. This is the fucking Shawshank Redemption, right? But with more tunneling through shit and no fucking redemption.

Malcolm Tucker: [to Terrie] You're wearing fucking trainers. You're supposed to be a civil servant, not a fucking playgroup assistant.

Malcolm Tucker: Do not move, or I will perform a fucking living fucking autopsy on you with a fucking rusty spade! I'll have your kidneys for fucking cuff-links!

Malcolm Tucker: [to Terrie] When I need your advice, I'll give you the special signal, which is me being sectioned under the fucking Mental Health Act.

Malcolm Tucker: How is that offensive? That is a very fair and accurate portrayal of just how fucking retarded she is.


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.5" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] No, I don't give a fuck whose birthday it is. I'm gonna enjoy myself here, listening to this Murray/Mannion ding-dong on the radio. The fat-cat's story breaking, so the Opposition are gonna be sweating like Vegas Elvis on a squash court.
Sam: [Sam comes in with a box] Happy Birthday Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: Stop saying that, right? Just you go home. What is this? Is this my new anal beads? OK, this has been X-Rayed, yeah? I'm not gonna get a fucking present bomb in the face.
[opens the box. inside is a cake with "Happy Birthday C*nt" written on it]
Malcolm Tucker: . This could be from anyone.
[reads the card that says "Love. The Prime Minister"]
Malcolm Tucker: It's from Prime Minister. This is fucking Tom's idea of a joke. He wonders why we don't let him out in public.

Malcolm Tucker: Fuck me! This is like a clown running across a minefield!

Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone to Glenn] Are you producing porno now for the visually impared?
Glenn Cullen: What?
Malcolm Tucker: Because what's happening here on the radio is Nicola Murray getting roundly fucked. What is it, bukake at bedtime?

Malcolm Tucker: 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 Tucker: Tim. In. Ruislip. Tim in fucking Ruislip. And as for Tim in fucking...
Janice: Yeah, okay, can you stop fucking saying that, please?
Malcolm Tucker: ...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?

Malcolm Tucker: Here's the fucking thing. Nobody talks about fucking dodgy donors, okay? Because it makes everybody look bad.
Stewart Pearson: Okay, I'll go with a different angle, then. How do you think it would land with your female voters if they were to find out that Tom Rudd forced his secretary into having an abortion?
Malcolm Tucker: That was her own personal choice and by the way, it wasn't his.
Stewart Pearson: Wow! So him paying for that private clinic, then, was just because he's such a nice man?
Malcolm Tucker: He IS a nice man. What about your nice man at central planning, eh? The one who got a bit carried away and fucking slapped his kids about a little bit too much? Fucking broke the skin! But he wasn't such a nice man, was he? But I suppose that's just part of your common sense checklist, yeah. All they need is a good slap, and do please remember to leave your fucking rings on!
Stewart Pearson: You go check your facts, Malcolm, that was a domestic accident and nothing more.
Malcolm Tucker: Domestic accident, yeah, 'cause he's got fucking hands the size of fucking doors!
Stewart Pearson: Oh, you want to talk about hardmen, Malcolm, yeah? Now, I know you've got to be hard to be a chief whip, but really, coke dealing at university?
Malcolm Tucker: Oh! Please, please!
Stewart Pearson: Hey, am I right in thinking he's now godfather to one of the PM's kids, yeah?
Malcolm Tucker: Listen, you know what I have got at the back of my fucking filing cabinet? I have got a fucking photograph that I've been waiting for a fucking rainy day to show everyone, which is a photograph of your fucking shadow chancellor at one of his fucking parties dressed up in fucking bra, suspenders and fucking blackface! What's his defence going to be, hey, when I email that to the fucking Sun? "Oh, well, I am just de shadow chancellor."
Stewart Pearson: Malcolm, he won't have a defence because you haven't got that picture because that didn't happen.
Malcolm Tucker: I have!
Stewart Pearson: However, I do have a statement from a rent boy...
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, that's very useful for you. You can claim that against your expenses, can't you?
Stewart Pearson: Oh, yeah, funny, very funny.
Malcolm Tucker: And you'll get that for free. Is that one of the fucking perks of the job?
Stewart Pearson: No, listen, his statement says he will swear that one of your prominent back-bench MPs paid him to shit on his chest.
Malcolm Tucker: Don't!
Stewart Pearson: Right, look, this is out of order, okay? Here's the deal. We both, both make statements saying that our guys in there, they were not in possession of all the facts. Hmm? But we're looking into it.
Malcolm Tucker: You'd do that? Hang your own guy out to fucking dry?
Stewart Pearson: What? Peter Mannion, MP? Yeah! Old guard? We're not sending him to DoSAC to fatten him up, we're putting him out to pasture, Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: We should just go home.
Stewart Pearson: We can do that. We can just seal this in. Contain the toxicity. Chernobyl FM.
Malcolm Tucker: I mean, you carry on like this and I might not find you utterly fucking contemptible.

Malcolm Tucker: Here's the fucking thing. Nobody talks about fucking dodgy donors, okay? Because it makes everybody look bad.
Stewart Pearson: Okay, I'll go with a different angle, then. How do you think it would land with your female voters if they were to find out that Tom Rudd forced his secretary into having an abortion?
Malcolm Tucker: That was her own personal choice and, by the way, it wasn't his.
Stewart Pearson: Wow! So him paying for that private clinic, then, was just because he's such a nice man?
Malcolm Tucker: He is a nice man. What about your nice man at central planning, eh? The one who got a bit carried away and fucking slapped his kids about a little bit too much? Fucking broke the skin! But he wasn't such a nice man, was he? But I suppose that's just part of your common sense checklist, yeah. All they need is a good slap, and do please remember to leave your fucking rings on!
Stewart Pearson: You go check your facts, Malcolm, that was a domestic accident and nothing more.
Malcolm Tucker: Domestic accident, yeah, 'cause he's got fucking hands the size of fucking doors!
Stewart Pearson: Oh, you want to talk about hardmen, Malcolm, yeah? Now, I know you've got to be hard to be a chief whip, but really, coke dealing at university? Hey, am I right in thinking he's now godfather to one of the PM's kids, yeah?
Malcolm Tucker: Listen, you know what I have got at the back of my fucking filing cabinet? I have got a fucking photograph that I've been waiting for a fucking rainy day to show everyone, which is a photograph of your fucking shadow chancellor at one of his fucking parties dressed up in fucking bra, suspenders and fucking blackface! What's his defence going to be, hey, when I email that to the fucking "Sun"?
[mockingly]
Malcolm Tucker: "Oh, well, I am just de shadow chancellor."
Stewart Pearson: Malcolm, he won't have a defence because you haven't got that picture because that didn't happen.
Malcolm Tucker: I have!
Stewart Pearson: However, I do have a statement from a rent boy...
Malcolm Tucker: Oh, that's very useful for you. You can claim that against your expenses, can't you?
Stewart Pearson: Oh, yeah, funny, very funny.
Malcolm Tucker: And you'll get that for free. Is that one of the fucking perks of the job?
Stewart Pearson: No, listen, his statement says he will swear that one of your prominent back-bench MPs paid him to shit on his chest.
Malcolm Tucker: Don't!
Stewart Pearson: Right, look, this is out of order, okay? Here's the deal. We both, both make statements saying that our guys in there, they were not in possession of all the facts. Hmm? But we're looking into it.
Malcolm Tucker: You'd do that? Hang your own guy out to fucking dry?
Stewart Pearson: What? Peter Mannion, MP? Yeah! Old guard? We're not sending him to DoSAC to fatten him up, we're putting him out to pasture, Malcolm.
Malcolm Tucker: We should just go home.
Stewart Pearson: We can do that. We can just seal this in. Contain the toxicity. Chernobyl FM.
Malcolm Tucker: I mean, you carry on like this and I might not find you utterly fucking contemptible.
Stewart Pearson: That's an incentive. I'll get my bag.


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.2" (2012)
Malcolm Tucker: What the fuck is this? Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Cunt?

Malcolm Tucker: It's time for you to step up Ollie. What's that film that you love?
Oliver Reeder: What film?
Malcolm Tucker: 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.
Oliver Reeder: Star Wars?
Malcolm Tucker: That's the one, right. It's like that, okay? Where you fucking kill all the bad guys, and you'll be able to blow up the big...
Oliver Reeder: Death Star.
Malcolm Tucker: The Death Star thing. Then you can go and live happily ever after on the planet of the teddy bears.
Oliver Reeder: They're Ewoks, they're Ewoks. It's a fantastic analogy, well done.

Malcolm Tucker: She's going to have to fall on her sword. Which means that we have to stick one in the ground, trip her onto it and get someone to jump up and down on her back for ten minutes.

Ben Swain: Malcolm, could I have a couple of words please?
Malcolm Tucker: Political lightweight? Making up the numbers? Sorry that's four, isn't it?

Malcolm Tucker: Reshuffle: don't send Ben to the back-benches, he'll just wank and eat Pringles. Leather seats are invitation to men like him.


"The Thick of It: Episode #1.3" (2005)
Malcolm Tucker: What the fuck is your girlfriend doing hitting us with this?
Olly Reeder: Well she's not my girlfriend, Malcolm
Malcolm Tucker: Ah well, you won't mind if I kill her then?

Malcolm Tucker: [to Olly] Feet off the furniture you Oxbridge twat, you're not on a punt now.

Malcolm Tucker: Sam? Can you get me Terri Coverley and Glenn Cullen? Make them an appointment to come over? I think I got to shout at somebody, you know? Oh, actually, get me John at Culture on the phone, I think I'll have a bit of a shout now.

Malcolm Tucker: It IS possible to have a good resignation, you know!
Hugh Abbot: "A good resignation"? Oh, I'm looking forward to how you're gonna sell THIS to me!
Malcolm Tucker: Look, people really like it when you go just a bit early! You know, steely jawed, faraway look in your eyes! Before they get to the point when they sitting round in pubs and say "Oh, that fucker's got to go!", you surprise them! "Blimey, he's gone! I didn't expect that! Resigned! You don't see THAT much anymore! Old school! Respect! I rather liked the guy! He was hounded out by the fucking press!" How about that, ah? What a way to go! Yeah!

Malcolm Tucker: It IS possible to have a good resignation, you know!
Hugh Abbott: "A good resignation"? Oh, I'm looking forward to how you're gonna sell THIS to me!
Malcolm Tucker: Look, people really like it when you go just a bit early! You know, steely jawed, faraway look in your eyes! Before they get to the point when they sitting round in pubs and say "Oh, that fucker's got to go!", you surprise them! "Blimey, he's gone! I didn't expect that! Resigned! You don't see THAT much anymore! Old school! Respect! I rather liked the guy! He was hounded out by the fucking press!" How about that, ah? What a way to go! Yeah!


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.7" (2012)
Malcolm Tucker: I'm gonna leave the stage with my head held fucking high. What you're gonna see is a master class 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.

Malcolm Tucker: You know Jackie fucking Chan about me. You know fuck all about me! I am totally beyond the realms of your fuckin' tousle-haired fuckin' 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 fuckin' fucks me from arsehole to breakfast! Then it wakes me up in the morning with a cup full of piss slammed 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!", it's 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 gonna have to 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.

Malcolm Tucker: [Malcolm is trying to find the back door on a police station, to avoid the press. He and his lawyer got lost and ended up in a room full of garbage]
Malcolm Tucker: This is literally rubbish!

Oliver Reeder: Well, who says I even want to be you, Malcolm? Who says that?
Malcolm Tucker: Nobody says that.
[pauses]
Malcolm Tucker: 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.

Malcolm Tucker: I knew Malcolm F Tucker, sir. And you are not Malcolm Fucking Tucker. You're not even fucking Manchester's top Malcolm Tucker tribute band. And trying to be me, you? Trying to be me will fucking kill you. I 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.
Oliver Reeder: And so on and so on, it doesn't have to be like that now, Malcolm, politics has actually changed.
Malcolm Tucker: Oh?
Oliver Reeder: Right. Yeah, yeah. And you probably haven't noticed because you've been on transmit for the last fucking eight years Waa-waa-waa-waa-waa! And whilst you've been doing that, everybody else has been changing, and it's all a bit softcore now, it's all a bit algorithms now. You don't have to be Malcolm Tucker to sit in that chair.


"The Thick of It: Episode #2.2" (2005)
Malcolm Tucker: Stop swearing? Oh ok, I'll stop swearing, you MASSIVE GAY SHIT - FUCK OFF!

Malcolm Tucker: [Tucker's 8:30 meeting] Morning, morning, morning. Allright, I wanna have a little bit of a think about some of our presentation issues with regard to yesterday. There seemed to be a bit of a problem with Liam on Newsnight. I would like to know why did we have a Minister on last night who did not appear to know the lines?
Steve: It's not all his fault, Malcolm. We grilled him beforehand. He's got a new baby, he's not getting enough sleep.
Malcolm Tucker: I don't care if he's got a new baby. I don't care if he's tired. He looked like he didn't know what he was fucking talking about! No, I know he doesn't know what he's fucking talking about, but he's got to appear as if he does, right? And that is your job!
[points to everyone in turn]
Malcolm Tucker: And your job! And yours and yours and yours and yours! With all your respective Ministers! Give them the lines, right?
Robyn Murdoch: Give them all the lines to say.
Malcolm Tucker: This is the delightful Robyn, she's just with us today, standing in for Terry Coverley at the Department of Social Affairs, so let's be gentle with her, please. No remarks about the Department of Stuffed Anuses, the Department of Stupid Announcements and the Department of Sod All! Right, next!
Robyn Murdoch: Reshuffle?
Malcolm Tucker: Yes, there is a pending reshuffle. I can see we're not gonna get anything past you! There was a young girl from DoSA, who helped herself to a samosa. No, next time I'll come up with something, just a bit of fun. Yes, the reshuffle, no, yes, definitely, we don't know anything. I don't know anything, so we can't say anything. But, you know, even if we did, we wouldn't, but we don't, so we both can't and won't. Right, next?
Steve: What about Julius Nicholson? I've got it yesterday he was looking at the MoD taking over the UK security from the Home Office?
Malcolm Tucker: See, that was flown by one of Nicholson's mob. I'm spending half of my time now dealing with that rubbish that Nicholson's putting out there!
Steve: There's a Sunday piece in the pipeline about you and him not getting along. Just wondered if you've got a line.
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah. 'Julius Nicholson is a hugely respected advisor. He now has a wide ranging brief and his blue-sky vision and helicopter-thinking will enable this government to go, in his own phrase, beyond delivery and beyond that'. That's the line, ok? And if he does stick his baldie head round your door and comes up with some stupid idea about policemen's helmets should be yellow or let's set up a department to count the moon, just treat him like someone with Helzheimer's disease, you know? Just say 'yes, that's lovely, that's good, we must talk about that later', ok?

Malcolm Tucker: Hughey?
Hugh Abbot: Just thought you'd like to know as soon as possible. Terry's dad?
Malcolm Tucker: Yeah?
Hugh Abbot: No news.
Malcolm Tucker: So, you've come to talk about the reshuffle, then?
Hugh Abbot: Yeah. In terms of shuffley stuff, how's Neil? Is his heart...?
Malcolm Tucker: Have you not heard? He's paralised. Neil's on wheels. He's a vegetable.
Hugh Abbot: Oh, dear.
Malcolm Tucker: Mind you, that means you could have his department.
Hugh Abbot: Oh, you ARE kidding. Fuck you very much.
Malcolm Tucker: I know you're looking for mouth-to-mouth on the reshuffle, but I don't know anything about it and even the PM is still working it out on the back of a Coldplay CD as we speak.

Malcolm Tucker: Alright, guys, thanks very much for staying on. Julius Nicholson, right? Blue-sky thinker? Ex-business guru? Dog rapist? He's being a nuisance to me, he's also got plans of squizzing your department so hard, you'll be lucky to be left with one bollock between the three of you. So all I'm doing here is asking you, formally, if you will join me in a little bit of a circle jerk?
Hugh Abbot: Circle jerk?
Oliver Reeder: Alot of guys in a circle, all, you know... Well, I assume you don't mean literally, do you? Presumably?
Malcolm Tucker: [to Glenn] Tony Mack in the Lobby, you know him, right? Call him, now. Tell him that you're getting that Nicholson is gonna get Foreign Sec in the reshuffle.
Glenn Cullen: [on the phone] Tony! Hi! How's it dangling, yeah? Listen, I just want to run something past you. I wonder if you're hearing what, you know, I've been hearing, that Nicholson's gonna be getting Foreign Sec.
Malcolm Tucker: Hugh, who is your top mate in the commenteria?
Hugh Abbot: Colin Sykes.
Malcolm Tucker: Colin Sykes? That's your top mate? Call him up!
Hugh Abbot: [on the phone] Hi, Colin! It's Hugh Abbot speaking, how are you? Got a decent back hand yet? Hugh, Hugh Abbot, we played tennis together. Yeah, yeah!
Glenn Cullen: [on the phone] I know it's probably bollocks, but that's what we all thought when Jim was up for Home Secretary. Next thing we know, he's given up the Colombian marching powder and taken up the sacraments.
Hugh Abbot: [on the phone] Foreign Secretary is exactly where he should be, he's a smart guy. I think at one point I called him a dog rapist.
[Tucker's phone rings]
Malcolm Tucker: [on the phone] Cath! I don't know where it's come from, I've been getting it as well! Stonewall them, ok? I'll talk to the boss!
[hangs up]
Malcolm Tucker: And now I'm gonna phone the Prime Minister of Great Britain.
[on the phone]
Malcolm Tucker: Allright, boss? Yeah, look, I'm really sorry to interrupt you, but we're getting hit on the blind side here! Stuff about Julius Nicholson? Cath's and I phones are both white hot. Stuff about him becoming Foreign Sec! Am I out of the loop here? Well, person that's most likely to be getting his mates to put this kind of stuff around is Julius Nicholson. You put so much hope in them, they always let you down. I think maybe Julius needs to have his wings clipped a wee bit, you know. Do you wanna do it? I think you're right, I think it's better if I just had a little chat. I'll see you in the morning. Night.
[hangs up]
Malcolm Tucker: Fucking brilliant! Eight missed messages! Sleep lightly.


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.5" (2012)
Malcolm Tucker: [to Nicola] You are not a grandee, you are a fucking "blandee". No-one knew what the fuck you stood for. Political fucking mist, no substance, no weight. You've got all the charm of a rotting teddy bear by a graveside. And by the way, women fucking hate you. I can show you the polling. They think you come across like a jittery mother at a wedding. The best thing you ever did in your flat-lining non-leadership was call for an inquiry, because it will fuck the government and it will fuck you. Now, please, just fuck off back to your home, you headless frump, and prepare for your column in Grazia.

Malcolm Tucker: Leaking is a fundamental part of our Governmental system! Do you know what happens if a government can't leak? Dark shit builds up. And then... it bursts.

Malcolm Tucker: When this inquiry lands, you better have developed a very flat stony face with no expression. But that'll be easy for you, it's your fucking cum face, isn't it?


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.7" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: I was golfing with Stephen hawking. He's fucking shit. He lied about his handicap. mind you, I never hired a golf buggy. I just sat in his lap.

Other: We both know we don't like each other - everyone knows that. We are the Gallagher brothers of politics
Malcolm Tucker: How does that work? Does that mean I'm the semi-talented songwriter and you're fucking loutish prick? That's a lovely analogy.

Steve Fleming: I'm just saying I'll gladly lend you a hand if you need to keep your head down.
Malcolm Tucker: I don't ned to keep my head down because unlike yourself I don't give blowjobs to truckers.


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.4" (2009)
Malcolm Tucker: When the Opposition's here, ou tell them nothing except where the toilets are, and you lie about that.


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.8" (2009)
Man: Do you want to swim the Channel for Scope?
Malcolm Tucker: No!
Man: Would you want to go on Dragon's Den for Children in Need?
Malcolm Tucker: I'd rather fuck a real dragon.
Man: Would you consider promoting a political-themed restaurant?
Malcolm Tucker: 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"?