Terri Coverley
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Quotes for
Terri Coverley (Character)
from "The Thick of It" (2005)

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"The Thick of It: Spinners and Losers" (2007)
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.

Robyn Murdoch: I just don't know what to say when the bloggers and the diary writers hit me with "what about this rumor?". I'm just not comfortable lying.
Terri Coverley: Oh for God's sake, Robyn. Bloggers! Just tell them to bloody well sod off to their grubby dingy little bedrooms.
Robyn Murdoch: Now I'm getting calls about Geoff Holhurst, about him standing.
Oliver Reeder: About Geoff? Calls about that already?
Terri Coverley: Geoff Holhurst? For leader? That would be extraordinary, very bizzare, he's got such a tiny head!
Oliver Reeder: You're right, actually, he's got a miniature head!
Robyn Murdoch: Is Geoff's tiny head standing? Is he out in the cold?

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!

Terri Coverley: [on the phone] Hi, Jamie, what can I do for you?
Jamie: I need you back here now.
Terri Coverley: Oh...
Jamie: Well I'm asking nicely, but if necessary I could come and kidnap you. I do keep a balaclava and gaffer tape in my car. No I actually do, do you hear me, Terri?

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.

Terri Coverley: Could we have this conversation near some coffee, d'you think?
Jamie: No.
Terri Coverley: Thought not.
Jamie: No, what we're having here is a secret conversation and I'm hoping that this time you can keep the fucking secret, because normally you're about as secure as a hymen in a south London comprehensive.
Terri Coverley: Yep, well done. That's offensive on a number of levels in a very concise way.
Jamie: The leaks are coming from in here.
Terri Coverley: What, in the gents?
Jamie: No, the leaks are coming from Richmond fucking Terrace, right? Now, I want you to find out who the mole is so we can play that game when the mole pops up and I smash it over the head with a fucking hammer!


"The Thick of It: The Rise of the Nutters" (2007)
Oliver Reeder: So, Ben, on Newsnight.
Terri Coverley: Ben Swain's going on Newsnight?
Oliver Reeder: Yeah. Oh, thank God you didn't know, either. I thought it was just me.
Terri Coverley: No, I did know about that, actually.
Oliver Reeder: Why did you say it like that, then: "Ben Swain going on Newsnight?"
Terri Coverley: You're just out of the loop. I'm very well wired into the Tomists.
Oliver Reeder: [laughs] Nobody calls them Tomists, they're Nutters, Terri, nobody calls them Tomists.
Terri Coverley: I don't like that word, my sister works in mental health!
Oliver Reeder: Yeah, well.

Oliver Reeder: [about Ben's book 'It's The Everything, Stupid: How To Get Ahead In Modern Politics'] This is looking good. When's it coming out?
Ben Swain: End of the week.
Terri Coverley: Great title!
Ben Swain: Thank you.
Oliver Reeder: And have you written it yourself or was it ghosted by...?
Ben Swain: By Victoria Beckham? No, everything in there is entirely written by me, I think you will find.
Oliver Reeder: There you go, you have hidden talents.

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: 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.


"The Thick of It: Episode #2.3" (2005)
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.

Terri Coverley: Did you send an e-mail this morning, about me, calling me a cunt?
Oliver Reeder: No! No, I never use that word, let alone about you, no, absolutely, I won't use it until, you know, it's been fully normalized and has no further assosiation with the... female twat.

Hugh Abbott: Just grow up, Terri!
Terri Coverley: You should be the one that's doing the growing up!
Hugh Abbott: I am a fucking grown-up, thank you!
Terri Coverley: You could have fooled me, Hugh!
Hugh Abbott: Glenn's son could have fooled you! No offence, Glenn. I'm sorry.

Hugh Abbott: [entering the new offices] Bit too light and airy for my liking.
[points at some backless, bench-like purple sofas]
Hugh Abbott: Ooh, and... these are awful. Do we have to have those? They look like Alicia's Barbie furniture
Terri Coverley: Do you think they match?
Hugh Abbott: Well, they can't... Not if you're going to wear that dress. One of them's going to have to go and I'd rather it was the sofas.

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 #3.2" (2009)
Nicola Murray: Somebody has just done a huge poo on my desk and I want it cleared up.
Terri Coverley: My bum is clean, it's clean as a whistle.

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?

Nicola Murray: Terri?
Terri Coverley: Yes.
Nicola Murray: Where in the civil service guidelines does it say it's absolutely fine to leave your minister alone with a hostile journalist, if you just can't be arsed to walk down the stairs?
Terri Coverley: I'd already pressed the buton.

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: So, how do we respond to this?
Terri Coverley: Right, we don't exchange insults with bloody Simon arsepipes... tittytwat.
Oliver Reeder: Is that honestly the best swearing you can come up with?
Glenn Cullen: This is a bucket of shit. If someone throws shit at us, we throw shit back at them. We start a shit fight. We throw so much shit at them, that they can't pick up shit, they can't throw shit, they can't do shit.
Hugh Abbott: That's top swearing Glenn, well done.

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.

Terri Coverley: [Talking about her role in the department in relation to policy] It's not my role to have a preference - I sell the apples. If you want me to sell the apples, I'll sell the apples. But if you want me to sell oranges, then I'll go and tell people that the apples, the apples are shit Olly, they're shit - I'll say go on, check out our oranges.
Hugh Abbott: Do you have a pref- which do you prefer, you know, apples or oranges?
Terri Coverley: [Exasperated] Apples!
Hugh Abbott: Apples?
Terri Coverley: Apples.
Hugh Abbott: OK, thank you!
Glenn Cullen: Hugh, if we are going to spend taxpayers money putting violent thugs into productions of the fucking Cherry Orchard then we're gonna get crucified, and rightly so!
Hugh Abbott: Hang on a second - Terri, which was apples, was Olly apples or was Glenn apples?
[Terri has left her desk]
Hugh Abbott: oh, she's gone.


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.3" (2009)
Terri Coverley: I heard he's about as useless as a chocolate teapot.

Nicola Murray: [on the phone] Hi Terri.
Terri Coverley: Hi. It's Julie. She Tweets.

Terri Coverley: Did you send an e-mail this morning, about me, calling me a cunt?
Oliver Reeder: No! No, I never use that word, let alone about you, no, absolutely, I won't use it until, you know, it's been fully normalized and has no further assosiation with the... female twat.


"The Thick of It: Episode #3.1" (2009)
Glenn Cullen: Well. That's Hugh gone then.
Terri Coverley: That's so sad, isn't it... Hugh.
Oliver Reeder: You don't give a shit!
Terri Coverley: No, perhaps I don't.

Oliver Reeder: Northern Ireland office - Tom Rudd. Who's Tom Rudd? Tom Rudd?
Terri Coverley: Isn't he in Harry Potter?
Glenn Cullen: Tom Rudd is army slang for standing up buggery.


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.1" (2012)
Terri Coverley: You're a very tidy man, aren't you?
Phil Smith: There's no happiness without order. It's a Nazi quote, but nonetheless stands the test of time.

Terri Coverley: I do really need a comment on this Tickell protest.
Peter Mannion: As we enter the third week I find Mr. Tickell's attention seeking tent based twattery even more annoying than weeks one and two.
Terri Coverley: Can't actually say that.
Peter Mannion: Really? Oh then by implication you know what you can say, so say that instead.


"The Thick of It: Episode #1.1" (2005)
Terri Coverley: [Terri, about Cliff's boxes] Do you mind taking them?
Cliff Lawton: No. Why?
Terri Coverley: Malcolm's there.
Cliff Lawton: Malcolm? Where? In there?
Terri Coverley: In your office.
Cliff Lawton: Why?
Terri Coverley: Just a social call.
Cliff Lawton: A social call. Jesus Christ.


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.5" (2012)
Adam Kenyon: [to Glenn] Hey! 2,000-year old man! Why the FUCK did you send the whole email? Huh? You were supposed to redact it! Send the top email, not the whole fucking exchange! Jesus Christ on a crystal meth binge!
Glenn Cullen: Terri and I sent what you gave me.
Adam Kenyon: [in disbelief] Terri? Why the fuc - THE ONLY REASON I'D EVER ASK TERRI FOR HELP IS - IS TO SHOOT ME IF I EVER ASKED TERRI FOR HELP!
Glenn Cullen: Same reason you gave it to me. Distance. Two people, twice the distance!
Fergus Williams: BUT TERRI DOESN'T GIVE US ANY DISTANCE! TERRI GIVE ME A TWITCH!
[points to his eye]
Fergus Williams: RIGHT HERE! Yeah, laugh it up, Glenn, BUT I'VE GOT A TWITCH CALLED TERRI!
Terri Coverley: [angrily, from behind a book shelf] I am actually here, you know!
Fergus Williams: Yeah! And that, in a nutshell, is the whole fucking problem!
[Fergus storms off, Adam follows]
Adam Kenyon: [singsong] Fuck you very much.
[to the bewildered carers, who have witnessed the entire exchange]
Adam Kenyon: Five minutes, guys.


"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.


"The Thick of It: Episode #4.7" (2012)
Glenn Cullen: Right! Everybody listen; I've got an announcement to make.
Phil Smith: What is it? You've got an erection?
Glenn Cullen: No! I would like to tell you all that I'm resigning.
Phil Smith: Is that it?
Glenn Cullen: No, you closeted Regency homosexual, that is not it! Morally, this department is in the gutter.
Fergus Williams: Thanks for the speech, Glenn, but...
Glenn Cullen: [grabs a lamp and rushes towards Fergus] You stay and take the punishment! I will lamp you... with a lamp.
Terri Coverley: Glenn, you've gone a tiny bit psychotic, my love.
Glenn Cullen: You, Fergus... when you asked me to join you, all you had was your principles, but over the last two years you've bent like a human fucking palm tree, swaying to the guff of these six-toed, born-to-rule ponyfuckers.
Adam Kenyon: If you're gonna go, just go. Spare us this Peter Finch bullshit.
Glenn Cullen: Oh, Adam, you're waiting for your turn! Oh no, I remember... it's your turn right now.
Adam Kenyon: Brilliant. Brilliant...
Glenn Cullen: You are simply the most loathsome human being I have ever met. You were so well suited at the Mail it's a shame you came over here. You know what? I hate you both; Tweedle-Twat and Tweedle-Prick. You contribute absolutely nothing to the world so thank fucking God you have no power!
Fergus Williams: We do, actually...
Glenn Cullen: No you don't! And Peter... it's been dreadful. I hope your cock falls off. Phil, do you know what you are? You're like an eight year old trapped in a twelve year olds body.
Phil Smith: This is great! Why is no one filming this?
Glenn Cullen: And Emma...
Phil Smith: Yeah yeah yeah, do Emma, do Emma.
Glenn Cullen: Emma, I'm sorry, you're just a standard issue insipid posh bitch... that's it! Terry... I don't think I've ever met someone quite so proud, and yet quite so useless. But I do have to thank you, because I have managed to stay in shape purely through the energy I spend in pitying you every day!
Terri Coverley: Glen, you're just embarrassing yourself.
Glenn Cullen: Fuck you all up the wrongin! Ta ta! Bubye!
Phil Smith: That was better than IMAX Inception.
Terri Coverley: Poor, poor Glenn...
Peter Mannion: Should we try and get him back?
Emma Messinger: Fuck no! He's gone completely mental.