The Thick Of It

malcolm had to have been proud of him. sick to his stomach in the back of the car failing at hate because well done son. and you make me think of myself at your age. and i never saw it coming. and how quickly they grow up.

“so now, i have to step into your shoes, but after you’ve shat in them?” “ollie, look at me. i’m not pulling anything out of a magic hat. the rabbits have fallen to pieces, their fucking heads are coming off and frightening the kids. so somebody else is going to have to help out.” “well, who says i even want to be you, malcolm?” “who says that? nobody says that. except every screaming atom of that etiolated stick of fuck you call a body says that. every fibre of your being, every stamen… says that. but you are not me, ollie. no. and you never will be me. 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.” “and so on and so on, it doesn’t have to be like that now, malcolm, politics has actually changed.” “oh?” “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.” “oh, how quickly they grow up. you fucking think you know me?” “well, yeah. yeah, i know you.” “you know jackie fucking chan about me. you know fuck all about me! i am totally beyond the realms of your fucking tousle-haired, fucking dim-witted compre-fucking-hension. i don’t just take this fucking job home, you know. i take this job home, it fucking ties me to the bed, and it fucking fucks me from arsehole to breakfast. then, it wakes me up in the morning with a cup full of piss 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 is gone, you can’t know malcolm, because malcolm is not here! malcolm fucking left the building fucking years ago! this is a fucking husk. i am a fucking host for this fucking job. do you want this job?” “yeah.” “yes, you do fucking want this job. then, you’re going to have to fucking swallow this whole fucking life and let it grow inside you like a parasite. getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it fucking eats your insides alive and it stares out of your eyes and tells you what to do.”

ollie in the ttoi finale and brutus by buttress tbh with you