COMMANDING

All right now, my lovely friends, the bottom line is... Sorry. Michael's quite right, I do apologise, l 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, lnnis, Little Bo Cock Jockey and the Leakey Fucking Mingebox, go back to your desks and prepare to start briefing now.

Correct. Not until we can trust you to keep the line. What is it, then? Foreseeable? No. No! Not foreseeable. That's fucking declaring war. Do you want to fucking declare war? Write this down. lt's neither foreseeable nor unforeseeable. You'd better walk on this fucking line.

I need you to go over there for me, I need you in that hotel. Fuck you, Andy Pandy, I am the loop. I want you in there for reasons that will not become clear to you for about 200 years, so just do it. Specifically see if any of Dan Miller's army are mincing around in fishnets and high heels. And I want updates every five, right? Okay. All right, and listen. Get onto your ex at The Mail, right, tell her no fucker is standing, they've all evaporated like cat's piss on a hot tin roof. Okay, Twat, have you got that? Yes, I heard that. Fuck you.

Look… you're 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 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 were.

Make sure fucking (Nicola) doesn't top herself, eh? Make sure that Ben does. Oh, and Glenn... Glenn, I've got a very special task for you, my unelectable friend. Turn the fucking phones back on.

Oh, who cares about the opinion of some golf-obsessed prick in a bow tie? Just scoop your guts up, put them in a fucking wheelbarrow and come over.

OK. Cut the top paragraph and paste it into page 5. Right, yeah, we've done it. Page 6 - get rid of the footnotes. Done. - Go to page 9. - Go to page 9. Highlight from that page to the end of the document. - Go on, do it. - The caveats? - OK. Delete. - Right, OK, we're doing it. Delete it. Oh. There's a shake of the head here, Malc. l think he's crashed. Give him a thump - that usually works. Let me 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. lt's done. Great. Now, attach that to an e-mail. Yes, done it. Done it. Let's find a printer.

Okay, right, listen up. Where's (Robyn)? Robyn, come here, quick. Listen, I'm bringing Jamie in to firefight this Watford story, okay? So you're gonna be working with Jamie for the rest of the night. You take orders from Jamie. You are going to bury this Watford arse-ache tonight, okay? 'Cause tomorrow morning, from broadsheets to wank rags, I want page one, two and three to be a profile of Tom looking like a fucking political colossus. You know, Tom meeting the Pope, Tom in an NHS hospital chatting to little baldy kiddies. I want pages four and five to be a timeline of the last few years in British politics with me at the centre, looking fucking indispensable and fucking benign. And I want page six to be fucking Israel or some bullshit, not a fucking DoSAC dip-shit legacy-distracting cock-up!

Right. Pinky and fucking Perky,  listen, this fourth sector thing, right? It's fucking mad. She's mad. She's like Tom Cruise’s favourite fucking brush, right? But the great thing about it is, it's free. So you two, I want you to rub your dicks together and get some fucking energy going in here. I don't care whether you inject yourself with stem cells or put cocaine in your fucking Fruit Corners, just get on with something.

Stats, percentages, international comparison, information. E-mail them fucking wads of information. And tell them get their heads around it before they put pens to paper, or I'll be up their arses like a fucking Biafran ferret, right? Come on, unleash hell!

What did Prime Minister actually said to you? What did he actually say? Should be doing. Should does not mean yes. Now there’s only one thing to do here, it’s what I’m gonna tell you to do. Kill it.