* Let me run this across the road, see if it gets knocked down. * All right Team are we achieving megathrust? Ace! * Anyway, heads down, chins up, chests out, terrific, well played team. * Are we nuking the opposition news busters? Terrific. * Are we sniffing round the bottoms of the opposition? * Aye aye coach, had a good weekend recharging the batteries for another surge of powerhouse info-dynamics? * Coach, if I could input into your mental mainframe for a moment... * Could we interlock brain spaces in my work area? * D'you know who I'm basing my tactics on? Isn't it obvious? John Major. The Iron Man, banishing those rebels to the wilderness. * From now on I'm going to employ relaxation techniques to turn off stress river and mosey gently down contentment creek. * George, can we pool our brainspaces in a center of excellence? * Good morning newsbusters, are we cooking with napalm today? You bet! * Good morning scoop busters! * Good morning teamsters! * Helen we need a rapid interface in the chin-wag department. * Helen, if I could just park in your mental multi-storey a moment... * Henry, television is no longer corner store it's a hyper-mega-market. And if we want Connie Consumer to slip her hand into the freezer cabinet and pull us out, we have to be the frozen peas with the nice picture on the front and the 10% off coupon. * Henry, welcome to my humble living space. * However, the fickle hand of Mr Fate has spun the coin of destiny. * I feel a very real sense that we ought to be wary of running any unsubstansiated stories if we're to avoid a faeces and fan situation. * I see myself as a sort of hands off overview executive who sits at the sharp end and interacts within the office matrix... * I think we have a slight togetherness shortfall here. * I'd just like you to stir-fry a few ideas in my think-wok. * I'm a committed anti-tittle-tattle person. * I'm in major cellular rejuvination mode, fast tracking my way to eternal biological viability. * I'm not here. * I'm reading this great new book on the benifits of reciprocal social intergrational relationships within the work environment. ("He means 'having friends'") * I'm setting you free! Free to rome the high seas of enterprise as the buccaneers of our broadcasting future! * I've never been at a burial scenario before. * If Mrs Whitehouse saw this, she'd have our collective danglies in a Magi-Mix. * Is Mr Newshound in his kennel? You bet. * It's an antiverminous defecation deterrent. ("It's to stop pigeons crapping on the building") * Jill, could you come for a brief scuba in my think tank? * Just a thought I wanted to pop into your fishbowl to see if it blows bubbles. * Just so you know, I'll be stir-frying some ideas round my think-wok first thing Monday morning. Enjoy... * Lady Merchant's just arrived, so no drops in the clanger department. * Let's keep kneecapping the opposition. * Let's operate a zipped-lip scenario on this one. * Let's stress how Tony [Blair]'s got a superb raft of ideas, several rafts in fact, which he's lashed together into a pontoon of excellence! * Look out Mummy, the snake wants a reproductive interface. * Look, Henry, if it's any help, I do have a sleep area overcapacity situation. * Morning hotshots. Are we cooking with napalm? You bet. * Morning newsdiggers! Have we struck gold this morning? * Morning ratings busters! Are we scraping Pete Punter with sexy scoops? You bet! * Morning talent base! Are the afterburners on full thrust? You bet! * Morning, mountaineers. Climbing the north face of newsmaking again are we? Teriffic! * My place is here, with my family of co-achievers! * Problems are just the pregnant mothers of solutions. * Quality stress diserpation opportunities here. * So what's it like living in insert name and town? * Sorry, Helen, had a bit of a composure shortfall earlier. * The three of us can go back and get into some real pro-active recreational interfacing... * There is just something I'd like to pop into your percolator, see if it comes out brown. * Today is tomorrow's tadpole of opportunity. * We all need to go on a forgivness curve. * We do rather appear to have an ongoing underwear entanglement situation... * We're merely running our bulletins through the cappucino machine of innovation, see if it comes out frothy. * We've got to downsize our sloppiness overload. * Well, butt-kickers, what's cooking? * What stories are we scorching the opposition with today? * What's filling today's scoop sandwich chief? * Yes, Alice is indeed now occupationally challenged. * Yes, well, I sense we may be straying down tangent boulevard here. * Yes, well, obviously I don't have an opinion, I'm a support module, but it would be very easy to find ourselves standing on buttered ball bearings over this piece. * Yes, well, publicity-wise this is a rather regrettable gonads-in-the-guillotine situation. * You see, when it comes to sexual interfacing with the female gender group, I've always been caution-orientated due to ongoing problems of an adaptive nature regarding the gooiness factor on the physical front. PM's Spokesman: The PM will require a glass of water. Alex Pates: To drink or to walk on? Damien Day: Did anyone see World In Action? They sneaked inside a maternity ward to show how poor security is. I mean. I did that two years ago. D'you remember that, George? George Dent: How could we forget? Damien Day: I put the baby back! I mean all right, it was in the wrong cot but it all got sorted out in the end! If you ask me those mothers just overreacted. Sally Smedley: Either I get a formal response to my request for the same lunch allowance as Henry or I shall withdraw my labor. How would you like that? Joy Merryweather: How would we know? Damien Day: [loudly] Hello everyone. What a lovely morning it is. I hope nobody's got a HANGOVER. Personally I feel terrific. Gus Hedges: Joy, can I have a quick word? Joy Merryweather: You can try. Henry Davenport: Oh yes, they say this woman with the sexual harrasment case may be able to make Bill Clinton exhibit his penis as evidence. The question is... All: Will it stand up in court? Gus Hedges: You see, I have a very important function in those meetings. Helen Cooper: Good. And that is? Gus Hedges: Well, I'm a sort of hands-off, eyes-on, overviewing, non- participatory, sort of hands-off... I'll get back to you on this... cunning bitch. Dave Charnley: When I woke up with you that morning, somehow there was something special about you. Helen Cooper: Yes, you knew my name. Henry Davenport: Over the last twenty-five years, I have read the news drunk, concussed, stoned, with a live stoat in my underpants and once on regional television with my trousers round my ankles and a Lithuanian prostitute under the news desk. Sally Smedley: Any messages, Joy? Joy Merryweather: Yes, your planet called, said your mission on Earth was over and could you go home. Henry Davenport: Last week I took this actress back to my flat. She had five orgasms. Joy Merryweather: Oh, she must be a bloody good actress. [Joy takes a phone call for Sally] Helen Cooper: From the look on your face, Joy, I'd say Sally's house just burned down. Joy Merryweather: Oh, much better than that. [Sally is having plastic surgery] Damien Day: Sally, there's something in my eye. Sally Smedley: What is it? Damien Day: My nose. [Sally is having plastic surgery on her thighs] Helen Cooper: Who's going to see your thighs under a newsdesk? Henry Davenport: Well, there was that rumour about the floor manager during the election coverage. Helen Cooper: [seeing Henry walk in singing "If I were a Rich Man"] You're in a good mood. Henry Davenport: Indeed I am. I'm in the sort of mood that a eunuch who's just heard about micro-surgery would be in. Gus Hedges: [entering the news room] Henry! Henry Davenport: [Jerking his head towards Gus] And talking of eunuchs. [The news team discovers that the Senior Staff's shares in Merchant Communications have substantially increased in value, just before Gus walks in] Gus Hedges: Morning newsbusters. Have we struck gold? Henry Davenport: I don't know. You tell us. Joy Merryweather: Everyone okay? Shame, I was hoping you'd all died in the night. Dave Charnley: Bloody hell, she must have got out of the wrong side of her coffin this morning. Helen Cooper: [indicating Joy] We're going to have to do something about her. George Dent: Well, she's probably going through a bad patch. Maybe someone's making her unhappy. Sally Smedley: I'd be ever so grateful if you'd not put that on my side of the desk. Henry Davenport: Pardon me for breathing. Sally Smedley: Well, if you'd stop doing that, I'd be really grateful. Helen Cooper: Are you unhappy working here? Joy Merryweather: Is Pavarotti fat? [Damien has handed Dave a 1938 Luger] Damien Day: Had a heck of a job getting the guy to let go of it. Dave Charnley: Yeah, I can imagine. Damien Day: Had to saw his fingers off in the end. Dave Charnley: [Putting the gun down] You sawed the fingers of a dead soldier? Damien Day: Well, I wouldn't saw the fingers off a live one. Damien Day: What's exactly wrong with collecting weapons? Dave Charnley: Nothing. I was interested in guns for years - then I reached puberty. Sally Smedley: Would you stop tossing your rubbish over my desk? Henry Davenport: What, you've got bloody airspace now? Henry Davenport: [after Sally has divided the desk] No, I shall not stoop to her level. You see, this is ridiculous, she's only put a line down the middle of... wait a minute, that's not the middle, you've stolen some of my desk. Sally Smedley: No I haven't. Henry Davenport: Yes you have, you're as bad as the bloody Israelis! Henry Davenport: Look, I need every inch I can get. Sally Smedley: Yes, that's what I heard. [Damien has tricked Dave into destroying some videotapes] Damien Day: You were asking for it. Dave Charnley: You putrid piece of rat droppings! Damien Day: Look, I told you, don't mess with the big boys. Dave Charnley: You dirty, conniving bastard! Damien Day: Look, I'm sorry, you're just not in my league. Dave Charnley: You have all the scruples of Mark Thatcher. Damien Day: Now look, careful, you can go too far. Helen Cooper: [reading from the story list] Is this it? Jonathan Aitken calling the European Union sluggish and complacent? Dave Charnley: Well, maybe they haven't paid his hotel bill yet. [Gus has asked for an advance copy of Henry's autobiography] Henry Davenport: I'm not going to show this book to a living soul. Joy Merryweather: Still in with a chance there, Gus. [George has been booked to appear on Newsnight] Damien Day: [to George] Was it Right to Reply where you sweated so much you fused the microphone? [Damien's cameraman, Gerry, has suffered another mishap] Damien Day: Joy, could you phone Gerry's wife for me. She gets hysterical when she hears my voice on the phone. Joy Merryweather: Morning, Gus. Gus Hedges: [surprised] Is Joy ill? George Dent: No, I had a quiet word with her. That seems to have done the trick. Helen Cooper: [Gus and Helen are watching footage of Sir Royston Merchant having sex] Recognise that bottom, Gus? You should do, you've kissed it often enough. George Dent: Does the Pope shit in the woods? Henry Davenport: I'm trying to fill in one of these National Lottery tickets. I thought I'd put down the number of times I had sex last month, but they don't go higher than 49. [he laughs] Joy Merryweather: Try sticking to the number of times someone else was there. Helen Cooper: I can't believe I'm saying this, Dave, but while I'm away you'll be in charge of ethics. Joy Merryweather: It's in the dictionary, under 'E'. [Henry has just suggested that the Pope should undergo a sex change before being artificially inseminated] Sally Smedley: For that remark, Henry, you will burn in Hell for all eternity. Henry Davenport: Doesn't worry me - I've sat next to you for three years. George Dent: [Sally Smedley will be reporting on an international summit] All she has to do is say, "The mood is one of cautious optimism" and flash her cleavage at the camera. A parrot with tits could do it. Helen Cooper: [Sally is unable to make an outdoor broadcast without a teleprompter] We're going to have to use idiot-boards. Sally Smedley: I think you mean cue-cards. Helen Cooper: I know what I mean. Dave Charnley: [Dave finds an entry for Maastricht while reading through the index for Henry's planned autobiography] [Looking up] Dave Charnley: Maastricht? Helen Cooper: Oh, that'll be when Sally misread the autocue, and announced to a waiting nation that the Government had finally agreed to ratify the Maastricht tea tray! Helen Cooper: Has anyone seen Gus? Joy Merryweather: I think he's in an anal interface with a toilet situation. Hospital Bureaucrat: Actually, can't stop now, just wanted to pop something into your mental microwave, see if it defrosts. Gus Hedges: I have the strangest feeling I've met him somewhere before...