Set in the corridors of power and spin, the Minister for Social Affairs, is continually harassed by Number 10's policy enforcer and dependent on his not-so-reliable team of civil servants.

[knock on door]
Malcolm Tucker: Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off.
Other: I'm sorry, could you stop swearing, please?
Malcolm Tucker: I'm really sorry, you won't hear any more swearing from us, YOU MASSIVE GAY SHITE! Fuck off!
Malcolm Tucker: How much fucking shit is there on the menu and what fucking flavour is it?
Hugh Abbott: All I do: I work, I eat, I shower, that's it. Occasionally I take a dump, just as a sort of treat. I mean that really IS my treat. I sit there and I think - no, I'm not gonna read the New Statesman, this time is just for me. This is quality time just for me. Is it normal?
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: 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.

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