That's all for today. Same time tomorrow?
Why not? See you at six. MADELINE CHUCKLES
And that's us off air. Thank you, studio.
Thanks very much.
Er, Jenny will see you off set. Was I OK with George?
Sorry, what? Pensions minister?
Hm? Well, did I get the right figures?
Just a sec. What, are you looking it up?
No, no. BOTH CHUCKLE
How was the wedding? Wedding?
Er, your cousin's, wasn't it? Oh, yes, it was fine.
Was I OK with the pensions minister?
Yeah, of course. I mean, were my figures right?
Well, not yet, but we'll do some research.
Thanks. Babes. Nice one today.
Er, cheers.
Tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.
Big one, was it? Big what?
The wedding, was it big?
Well, yeah, I suppose. I left my coat somewhere.
Make-up. I put it in your dressing room.
Thanks. How many guests?
I don't know. 200, 300.
Oh, nice. So, er, just the right size, then.
Yeah.
Closer to two or three? I'm sorry?
Closer to 200 or 300, what would you say?
More than 300? 350? Is something wrong?
There's, er, been a tweet. What tweet?
This one.
Basically, you were overheard. Being a bit loud, were you?
Well, this is nothing. OK. Good.
I mean, it's nothing, isn't it? Is it?
Of course it's nothing. Well, that's a relief. I'm so glad.
I was at a family wedding, for God's sake.
Yeah, exactly, a family wedding.
Whose business is that? Nobody's business.
It's not even worth talking about. We don't have to talk about it.
Do you wanna talk about it? No.
Good. Good, then. Let's not do that, let's not talk about it.
Let's start with an account of what happened.
An honest account.
No, an account. We can move in the direction of honesty
once we've decided on the facts. In the direction of honesty?
I'm not ruling out honesty at this stage.
So, you were at the wedding, it's the evening do, it's late.
Er, I was a little drunk.
Not in my opinion. I'm sorry?
I disagree about you being drunk. You weren't there.
We're journalists, we're never there.
Having opinions about things we didn't witness
is the entire point of our existence.
We are the brave few who turn up after the event
and explain it to everyone else who missed it.
How do you get through the day being this cynical?
Unhurt. So, at some point,
surrounded by friends, probably laughing friends,
you made some sort of a joke.
A harmless joke. Harmless?
Yes, harmless, completely harmless.
"Overheard. Presenter Douglas Bellowes
"making an extremely sexist joke at a wedding party." I didn't...
"Disgusted." The tweeter doesn't seem to think it was harmless.
Why's that, do you think?
Because the tweeter is an idiot. Tell me more.
I don't know any more.
I didn't see her, I didn't even notice her.
But you know about the idiocy. I'm assuming the idiocy.
Because of a single tweet accusing you of sexism.
Yes! Ironically enough.
Ironically? Because you're also assuming the tweeter's a woman.
Oh, Christ!
Patrick Harland. Man, I'd say, wouldn't you?
Yes, that does seem likely. He/him. Sounds pretty sure.
What was the joke? I don't know.
You don't know? I don't remember what I said.
It was a wedding three days ago, I was drinking, why would I remember?
OK, I see.
So, you don't remember the joke, but you do remember it was harmless.
Yes. Just like you remember that someone you never even noticed
is an idiot and a woman,
just because she, oops, he remembers an event differently from you?
Yes! Even though you don't remember it at all?
I'm just telling you the truth. Isn't that what you want?
Well, the truth is useful, yes,
but I'd prefer something a little more balanced.
We're in news, truth is only one side of the story.
This isn't news. It's going to be news - it's you.
Like it or not, Douglas, and I don't much,
there are a rare few in this world
who carry the burden of power and influence.
And five evenings a week, you walk into a television studio
and read out their names from an autocue.
Now, it's a fact that audiences, over time,
begin to associate television presenters with real people.
It's deluded, but it's inevitable.
In every crisis and natural disaster for the last ten years,
they've seen you, out there on the front line, introducing the footage.
For over a decade, your face has been the clear popular choice
for wars, famines, atrocities, and royals.
When a national treasure dies, it comes out of your mouth.
As far as our viewers are concerned,
your voice is what makes famous people dead.
So please use that instrument of death with care.
How many times do I have to tell you? When you're out in public,
when civilians can hear you,
you must be balanced, boring and bland.
You should be aspiring to net zero cognitive content.
Not slobbering out witticisms
like you've cornered the weather girl at the Christmas party.
Well, what about Madeline?
Madeline? She's all over social media.
She might see this. So what?
Well, she's... You know... What is she?
Well, she's... Sometimes, she's...
I'm holding my breath in terror at your next adjective,
and praying it will not refer to the fact that she's female.
Well, Madeline is... Madeline. Well done.
Net zero cognitive content? Verging on Thought For The Day.
Madeline will be fine. She adores you, you know that.
OK. Everyone knows that.
Sorry, what? He's got 300 followers!
Who has? Patrick Harland.
The tweeter. 300, well... That's nothing.
That's just friends and friends of friends and a bot farm in Russia.
He's getting retweeted. The retweets are getting retweeted.
It'll blow over.
Look, I've got a dinner thing, I'll talk to you later.
I've got it on live update. It's coming in waves now.
It's like being Michael Caine in Zulu.
It's nothing, it'll burn itself out. I'll see you.
Douglas. Seriously. What was the joke?
I really don't remember.
I hate jokes. Why can't people just say things?
Hey, Madeline. Gotta run, sorry.
Good show, let's do another one tomorrow.
Yeah, tomorrow.
I wasn't being racist, by the way. I'm sorry?
I appreciate that Michael Caine was basically the aggressor.
Oh, shut up!
Hey.
Straight home? Yeah, thanks.
Got himself into trouble, hasn't he, your fella?
My fella? Yeah.
Douglas what's-his-name.
My co-presenter. Your fella, yeah.
What's he done now? Told a joke.
A sexist joke, it's all over Twitter.
Hm. Sounds like him. Was it funny? Didn't say if it was funny.
Just said that it was sexist. Sounds like Twitter.
Or do we call it X now? I can't keep up.
I don't think anyone can. Hey! You got the figures right.
With the pensions guy, you were good.
You were looking it up! Course I was.
You were checking on me?
I mean, you were factually wrong,
but I've figured out a way you can be kind of right.
So you haven't screwed up.
What if I had?
Oh, I'd have thrown you to the wolves, mate.
Right, OK. Wolves, that's fair.
I'll phone you later about the thing tomorrow?
You know, the link-up thing?
Yeah, give me a couple of hours, I've got dinner with my agent. OK.
No, phone me during dinner, I hate my agent.
MADELINE LAUGHS You got it.
My wife thinks you've got chemistry. Excuse me?
You and him, on telly. She thinks you've got chemistry.
Well, isn't that nice.
How do you do that, then, create chemistry on telly?
Just, er, sitting on a sofa?
Well, generally you make the bloke about 20 years older.
DRIVER CHUCKLES
On Twitter, yeah? The joke? Yep.
LIVELY CHATTER
Jason Wellings. Jason?
Cancer. Bad kind.
It's a big secret. Not sure who knows.
Jason's dead. Dead?
He died three weeks ago. Of what?
Cancer. That was sudden.
Well, no, it wasn't. Was to me.
OK, about this Twitter thing... Yeah.
What do you think? Do you think there's a problem here?
I mean, should I be doing anything? Talking to anyone?
Any ideas, any suggestions? Hang on.
Hang on, hang on.
Oh, God, where is it? Oh, there we go.
What's this? My neighbour's son is a big fan.
He wanted a signed photograph. That OK?
Erm... Well, sure. Thanks. He'll be thrilled.
I need my neighbour to owe me a favour.
My husband's pressuring for a gazebo. Mm.
OK, about the Twitter thing?
Ah, Twitter! Twitter, Twitter!
What can you do? Well, yes. What can I do?
Exactly. What can anyone do?
Well, are you worried about it? The tweet about me?
Are you worried about it?
No, of course not. Really? Good, that's a relief.
A relief? Yeah. Big load off, thanks.
So you are worried? Not now. You reassured me.
Quite honestly, I was bricking it. You haven't touched your food.
But, er... Yeah. No, but...
in the unlikely event that, you know,
there's any kind of a problem...
This is Madeline.
Yeah. Neighbour's son, big fan. Can you get her to sign it?
Well, she doesn't like this picture. She regretted it.
She'd prefer to look more serious. It's his favourite photo, though.
He's got hundreds of them in his bedroom,
but that's the one under his pillow.
He's got underpants with that photo on them. Underpants!
I don't think she'll be happy signing this photo for a child.
He's 38.
WAITER: Is that Madeline Crow? Yes.
TRAIN RUMBLES
You OK? Yeah.
Did you find that thing about the joke? Yep.
Did you find out what the joke was? No.
ELECTRONIC BEEP
So, what was the joke at the wedding? The misogynist joke?
It wasn't misogynist, it was sexist.
Are those different? Well, of course they're different.
What, so there's misogyny AND sexism now? Yes!
How am I supposed to remember two things?
Look, about this joke... Yeah. What was it?
I don't actually remember it. Yeah, but seriously...
I'm being serious.
Well, it was probably just one of your usual ones, yeah?
My usual ones? Your usual misogynist ones.
It was sexist, not misogynist. Look, my point is...
in the event that anything happens,
if anyone says anything or accuses me of anything...
what do we do?
Oh, simple. It's a piece of piss.
There's a whole agency playbook for that. OK.
Well, we release a carefully worded statement.
Saying what? Well, apologising, obviously,
expressing remorse, obviously. Yes, obviously.
And then explaining with great regret
this agency is now severing its connection with Douglas Bellowes,
following his recent unacceptable remarks.
How does that help me?
In the global sense. The global sense?
Well, someone has to take one for the team. What team?
Team you and me. And it's me.
Well, you're the misogynist. No, I'm the sexist!
Look. It won't come to it,
but I'll draft something this evening,
run it by you. You can put a quote in.
Thanks (!)
Anyway, let's not dwell on it. It's too depressing.
So... Jason Wellings, dead. Yes.
Cancer?
Yes.
Was it the bad kind?
Yes.
PHONE VIBRATES
Do you mind? No, no, go ahead.
Toby? It's gone nuclear.
What has? The tweet.
What happened?
Are you in a restaurant? If so, please step away from the table.
What happened? Madeline.
And Madeline and Douglas join me now.
Such a success Live At 6 has been.
You must be thrilled. We're absolutely over the moon.
Absolutely, yeah. It's been fantastic. Incredible.
So, how did you two first meet? Was it on the show?
Er, well, it would have been just before, I guess. Yeah, yeah.
Probably auditioning you. No, he did not audition me.
Well, probably... You did not, OK?
Probably auditioned her a bit. Stop that right there!
So, did he offer you any advice?
Oh, he's never stopped. He's at that age, though, isn't he?
You know, he just goes on and on.
I think he keeps going when I'm not in the room.
Yeah. Just an old granddad, really, droning on. That's true.
So, what was the first piece of advice he gave you?
Erm... he told me it was worth it. Er, this job.
He told me whatever you have to wade through,
this job is, er... is worth it.
Why are you watching this?
Oh. Hi!
Er... Sorry, it was in your saved programmes.
You were outside in the car.
I thought maybe you were working or on the phone or some shit.
Didn't know you'd still be here. Oh, just passing the time.
Oh, well, I'm kind of busy tonight.
Well, I could cook for you. I'll get a takeaway.
Oh, you don't need to. I know I don't. But I'm going to.
Oh, OK.
Ah, it's just, you know, busy, busy.
Yeah. Well, I'll just, er, you know... I'll see you.
Right, well. I'll call you. OK.
Or text you? Yeah, text.
Right, well, listen. Hey, thanks for, you know...
It's fine. Yeah.
Did I say that? I don't remember saying that.
Yep, you said it. "Wade"? Did I say "wade"?
Yeah, you said "wade".
Was he right? Was it worth the "wade"?
Madeline?
I'll let you know.
OK, I'm off home for the rest of the evening.
Are we OK with page two? No, but yes.
Tell Trevor something positive. Anything specific?
God, no, he might believe you. There's a budget Zoom in ten.
Call me if there's anything urgent or funny.
Do you wanna stay for the Zoom? Preferably funny.
You missed the last two.
Sheila? Helen. You loitering for me?
Erm...
You know that Twitter thing that I was going to tell you about?
Which you were going to tell me about?
Erm... the thing about your husband and the joke at the wedding?
That you were going to tell me about and apparently didn't?
At the last minute I, erm... internalised it.
What in the name of God's holy arse was the point of that?
Somnia said I should internalise when I'm feeling frightened of you.
Somnia? Who the arsing tit-wank is Somnia? HR.
Are you OK? Everything's fine, is it?
Erm, she used to be called Anita,
but she's sort of re-imagined herself.
Anita Varma? It's not Varma any more. OK.
She's, erm, moved on from her patronymic.
Right. Good!
So, about my husband on Twitter? What's he done now?
Are you internalising again?
Are you allowed to say out loud if you are internalising?
Right. Now, listen.
It's OK for you to say anything you like to me.
You are my PA,
and it would be really, really helpful if you could speak.
I promise to break eye contact on request
and will never sustain it for more than 30 seconds.
Can you just tell me,
with my assurance of your complete personal safety...
..about my husband on Twitter.
Erm... Yeah. So, he was at a wedding,
and someone heard him make a sexist joke.
Which one? Probably just one of his usual ones.
Which wedding? Oh, erm, it was three days ago.
Donald's? Oh, God, he was so pissed.
But I only left him alone for 20 minutes.
If he's got himself in trouble again,
that's his look-out.
Let me know if anyone here wants to write about it.
It's got worse, though. Worse? How?
Madeline.
Fuck's sake. Why would she do that? I mean, why?
Well, technically, she was defending you.
She retweeted it. She retweeted the bloody tweet.
Yeah, because she was commenting on it.
"Don't believe this. Not my co-presenter."
In the process, obviously, yes, she retweeted it.
She's got about half a million followers.
No, she's got 2 million.
OK, so that's 2 million people who've now seen it,
who would never have noticed it if she'd just left it alone. Yes.
Two million? I've got one and a half.
It is not, at this precise moment, a competition.
PHONE VIBRATES, DOUGLAS SIGHS
My wife's calling. 'Talk to her.' Yeah, in a bit.
If she's seen it, she'll still be shouting.
Look. Right now, Douglas, I'm not worried about her shouting,
I'm worried about her newspaper.
PHONE VIBRATES
VIBRATING STOPS
I've gotta run. No problem.
Is that my food?
Didn't think you wanted it.
DOUGLAS: 'Sorry I can't get to the phone right now.
'Please leave a message after the beep.'
Douglas, can you just call me back? This is my fourth message.
I've stopped shouting, I just want to know what's going on.
Also, for the love of God, please delete these messages.
I work with people who hack your phone.
Fuck's sake.
SHE SIGHS
Claudia?
Hey, Mum.
Hey. Er, listen, darling,
you've left the front door open again.
Yeah, doesn't matter.
I'm just telling you you've left it open.
Yes, I know. Don't worry about it. The subject is closed.
It will be closed, Claudia, when the front door is closed.
Why? Because you keep leaving it open,
and I'm not happy about that. Why?
SHEILA SPLUTTERS Because it's important.
Why? Because people might come into the house.
Oh, what people? I don't know.
Exactly. Jesus, calm down.
Darling, please. This is for your own personal safety.
Oh, my safety? Yes!
Oh, is it dangerous out there?
Does this mean I won't be allowed outside now?
Of course you're allowed outside.
Well, if it's safe for me to be outside,
why isn't it safe to leave the door open?
Claudia, there's a lot of valuable stuff in this house,
and surprisingly enough, we don't want it stolen.
Oh, so it's all about your possessions,
and who cares if I get raped?
Please, can you stop finding a reason to argue with me
every single time we speak?
Stop criticising me!
Oh, Claudia, please can it not be like this?
Not every single time we talk.
Oh, now you're gonna cry!
You always start crying, Mum. Stop doing that to me.
I'm not doing anything to you! Stop shouting!
Hey. Dad, somebody left the front door open,
and Mum just assumes it was me.
Because it was you. Let it go, Mum.
Drink? Oh, please, God, yes. Give me wine or give me death.
She never stops. She goes at me all the time.
Like just looking at me sends her into a rage.
The minute we make eye contact, her shoulders flex.
They just sort of pop up, like... like an emergency life jacket.
She's 19. Sometimes, she follows me to the loo,
stands outside the door and just keeps going.
I am critiqued sitting on the loo.
Yeah, she's kind of intense at the moment.
I flushed while she was talking.
She called it a micro-aggression. Mm.
You're not reading your emails again.
Someone from Hay wants to talk to you. Does that make sense?
Mm, the Hay Festival. I told you, I'm doing an interview.
What about? Well, me, hopefully.
I don't really know about anything else.
No, but seriously, what's it about?
It's not about anything. Well, keep it that way. No opinions.
People might be listening.
Might be? Opinions are blood in the water.
Dare to be bland.
Well, what's wrong with my opinions? You don't have opinions, darling,
you're just cross at whatever's available.
OK, bland. I'll be bland. Bland is good, bland survives.
Anyway... Madeline. What the hell is Madeline up to?
Look, in fairness, she was just being supportive.
Oh, no, come on. You're not going to defend her?
She commented on the tweet in my defence. Look.
And by commenting on the tweet,
she retweeted the tweet to 2 million people,
most of whom would never have seen it any other way,
some of whom are press.
Can you believe she's got 2 million followers? Yes!
OK, then. The papers. What do you think?
Would your lot bother with this? Don't know. Don't think so.
Well, you're the editor. I can't play favourites.
I could see it on page five if it's a slow day.
HE GROANS Cheer up.
There might be an atrocity. Well, there's a war,
there's flooding every second Wednesday,
there's a climate crisis. I mean a proper atrocity.
Someone off Blue Peter having a wank on a webcam.
Oh, for Christ's sake. A drive-by deadnaming.
A-A royal being slightly off-hand to a minority...
There is still actual news in the world, isn't there?
I mean, things are still happening,
or did it all just stop and I didn't notice?
Darling, there is all the human misery and suffering
a journalist could wish for.
But we live in a world where a newsreader's arse
can push a war off the front page.
And you, my dear, like it or not,
are in possession of a newsreader's arse.
Handle it with care.
Well, according to Toby, my voice is an instrument of death.
Is it my arse now? They're both good, honey.
Just remember which one to talk out of.
Madeline was not defending you.
Of course she was. We're friends. No, you're colleagues.
We're on the same side. We're a team.
Look at what she actually said.
Yeah, look at it.
"Don't believe this. Not my co-presenter."
So she's saying she doesn't believe her co-presenter behaved like that
because she knows him so well. Exactly. That's good.
Or she's describing your behaviour as unbelievable
and saying she no longer wants you as her co-presenter.
Do you think?
Headline, "Not my co-presenter, says Madeline Crow."
Photo of you. One of the blurry ones where you look a bit drunk.
We have seven. Next to that, a photo of Madeline.
Shiny hair, blow job eyes. We've got exactly 12 million.
Sub-header, "Douglas Bellowes blasted for sexist joke."
You see? First impact,
it's sexy Madeline who's blasting blurry Douglas.
Of course, when you read the article,
we clarify the actual blasting comes from some guy online
who no-one cares about, but our work is done.
Because, my darling, here's the big, big secret -
no-one reads the article.
They're all too busy tweeting angry opinions
about whatever conclusion they've just jumped to.
Outrage is exciting, nuance is work. Douglas is cancelled.
Well, I mean it takes more than one article.
Of course it doesn't.
Well, what happened to the presumption of innocence?
It's too slow for the news cycle. OK, but seriously...
would you run with this? I don't think so.
I don't think anyone will. There's not enough to it.
But fair play to Madeline, she's given it her best shot.
She didn't do it on purpose. She was just ambiguous.
That's not ambiguity, that's plausible deniability.
Madeline's not like that.
Is she? Is she like that?
I don't know Madeline. I only see her on the telly.
All I know about Madeline is you talking about her
all the bloody time.
Well, of course you know her. We never speak.
Every time I walk into a room, she walks straight out.
Heads for the door like a missile. Whoosh, slam, gone.
I'd think the two of you were having an affair
if it wasn't for the saggy tits. She hasn't got saggy tits.
I was thinking of yours. Apparently, you weren't.
I wasn't thinking of Madeline's tits.
Actually, you were. Not that way.
What way, then? Ironically?
No, I just... Have you noticed
that every conversation always ends up being about Madeline?
Why is everything about her?
What does Madeline think? What's Madeline done today?
Why you're cross about Madeline this time!
No. Don't smile at me, you were fighting.
No, we weren't. I heard you shouting.
No, you didn't. We barely raised our voices.
Oh? Are you keeping something secret?
We're not fighting, darling.
You were, I can tell. I can always tell.
And don't lie, I've already got anxiety today.
MUTTERS: Oh, Christ.
OK, we were fighting just a little bit
but on the same side against someone else who isn't here,
so we're... taking it out on each other. Mm.
It's called marriage. Hm.
Was it about Madeline?
Jesus. Madeline? Why would it be Madeline?
Mum calls her names. No, I don't.
What names? Thin. Thin's not a name.
Thin's a description. You always say it.
She's always thin. Are you fighting about the tweet?
The tweet? Yeah, I saw it.
Which one? Which tweet? About Dad's sexist joke.
The one he told.
At Uncle Rapey's wedding. Uncle Donald.
Uncle Rapey. I've told you. About what?
His inappropriate language around women.
He's not being inappropriate, he's just being funny.
It's not funny to make women feel sexually menaced.
Sexually menaced by Donald? Yes. Who's gay?
Yes. Who three days ago got married to another man who's also gay
so they could be gay together in a gay marriage
and continue to show no sexual interest in women
for the rest of their gay lives?
You felt sexually menaced by a man who's never had a sexual impulse
towards a woman in his entire gay life?
OK, boomer. Sorry, just trying to point out how gay works.
Oh, it's so good to be mansplained.
I'm mansplaining a man. That's got to be legitimate.
Mum, can I talk to Dad?
Oh, go ahead!
In private. Oh, this is private.
No, it isn't.
Claudia, anything you want to say to me,
you can say to your mother.
Forget it. Help yourself. I could do with some time off.
Oh, that's right. Just walk out on me.
You asked me to go away! Exactly.
Good luck, darling. Mm.
SHE SIGHS
Dad. What was the joke at the wedding?
I don't know. The misogynist joke?
It wasn't misogynist, it was sexist. Same thing. No, it's really not.
What was the joke, Dad? Sexism can be prejudicial behaviour
against either sex, whereas misogyny is only...
Dad. The joke. What was it?
I don't remember.
Is that true? Or are you just saying that cos you're embarrassed,
and you don't want me to know what you said?
No, I'm not just saying that. I really don't remember.
OK.
What's wrong? People at uni are asking about it.
Well, how do they even know about it?
Some of them follow Madeline. Oh!
Also, I'm part of a student think-tank monitoring the impact
of media celebrities on minorities - especially women.
Well, women aren't a minority. Of course they're a minority.
They're the main one. Well, there are more women than men.
That's a majority. Dad, take this seriously.
Sorry, did you say think-tank? Yes, think-tank.
Is there an actual tank, or do you just meet in a bar?
We meet in a seminar room, on a weekly basis, which we book.
OK. Not in a bar, Dad.
OK, sorry. None of us drink, actually.
OK, good for you. Have you considered starting?
Look, you could get cancelled. Do you understand that?
I don't want that to happen, Dad, I really don't. It would destroy me.
And me.
Yeah, and you.
Listen. I don't remember what I said.
But whatever it was, it really wasn't that bad.
Promise? Promise. Not lying?
I'm not lying. What...
I don't lie to you. When do I lie to you?
You're my daughter. And an activist.
Yeah, my daughter first. Yeah, yeah. Of course.
And an activist.
And I'm your father before anything.
Please remember that. Oh, trust me, Dad,
nobody's forgetting about the patriarchy.
Oh, Jesus, Claudia. No, I'm just trying to look out for you.
I'm trying to protect you. Claudia, believe me.
I'm all over this. I really am.
As it happens, between you and me, father to daughter,
your daft old dad really, really doesn't wanna get himself cancelled.
And, Dad... I really, really don't want
to have to cancel you.
That's... nice.
That's nice to hear.
Sorry to pull you in so late. It's a little bit urgent.
No, that's OK. Take a seat.
Have you been briefed? Er, no.
No? Don't worry. I will brief you.
So, er... Douglas. You know Douglas. Douglas Bellowes?
Yeah. Yeah. You worked with him?
Well, yeah. Yeah.
Douglas needs an emergency joke.
A w-what? He needs a very specific emergency joke,
and I need you to provide it.
A joke? Yeah, listen.
At a recent wedding - one, I must stress,
in no way affiliated to Live At 6 -
Douglas Bellowes was overheard telling a joke
which may have been accidentally sexist.
OK, but why...? Listen. Just listen.
Douglas can't remember the joke, and so far, no-one has quoted it.
So this is what we call in the news business
an opportunity to get ahead of the facts
and decide what the joke might've been.
Oh, you mean, like, make something up?
No, no. Not make something up. No, not exactly.
It's just that sometimes, when the facts are a little... hazy,
we need to provide our audience with clear, directed information
that, as far as possible,
reflects the truth without actually being it.
OK.
So what I need from you
is a joke sexist enough to cause comment on Twitter
but not so sexist that it will end Douglas's career.
Erm... It has to be right on that borderline between
"offensive to women" and "charming and sexy".
We really need to dial in on the precise level of misogyny
that will shock, but mostly titillate,
Douglas's demographic of reasonably educated,
marginally self-loathing housewives.
And he's gonna need some support on air through an earpiece
for tomorrow night's show in case he's asked about this.
You know, he might need a few spontaneous one-liners,
and I'm confident you are the man for the job.
Why?
Well, because I've been assured you're our top comedy guy.
Have you signed the NDA? No.
No? Why not?
Well, because I'm your driver.
They asked me to bring HIM in.
I-I've been your driver for eight years.
Yeah. Well, yeah, yeah, I know that. Erm...
It's just you're usually... facing the other way.
How's the missus? Dead.
Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Sorry.
Do beg your pardon. Er, bit of a mix-up. Nobody's fault.
I thought you were the driver. Oh. OK.
I wasn't being racist.
Moira, I think I'm gonna need an NDA.
It's all over Twitter.
Thanks to bloody Madeline, it's every bloody place.
Do you think Claudia's a bit strange these days?
I wouldn't say strange. No? I'd say frightening.
No, I'm serious. So am I.
It's like we've lost her to a cult.
We've lost her to a university. It's similar,
but you still have to do their laundry.
I'm gonna tell Madeline to take down the tweet.
Oh, it's too late for that.
Deleting it will only draw more attention.
Well, then she can delete the lot.
She can close down her account. She seems to spend all day online.
It's time she rejoined the human race.
First thing tomorrow, I'm telling her.
Deleting her account will not make a useful difference.
Well, maybe not. But it'll make a point.
It'll draw a line.
No-one is turning my daughter against me.
OK.
What do you mean, "OK"?
I said "OK". It means "OK".
You paused. Sorry?
Before "OK", there was a pause. I know what that pause means.
What does it mean? Nothing. Doesn't mean anything.
It means you've been angry with Madeline before.
You've been shouting about Madeline all over this house.
You threw a juice carton out of the window once.
It was stuck in the tree for over a year.
Well, I'm angry again. And off you go to see Madeline,
and you're really gonna sort her out this time.
And something... happens. Well, what happens?
I don't know. But you come back home,
and you're all calm again, and you explain
that you and Madeline have had a chat,
and everything's all fine. Nothing to worry about.
All smiles... until the next time.
OK. Well, the... How does she do that?
I can spend all night trying to calm you down. Never works.
How does Madeline do it? What exactly happens
when the two of you have one of your little chats?
We just talk, OK? For God's sake.
I completely believe you. You talk. OK. Fair enough.
Talk about what?
How does Madeline always get you back on side?
How does she do it? I mean, is she magic?
She's not getting me back on side this time.
OK.
Morgan, I need you to concentrate
on jokes about Twitter for Douglas, OK? All over that.
He needs to sound relaxed, witty, good sport.
LAPTOP KEYS CLICK
Give me an example.
Is that it? Has the joke happened? Because I don't think I laughed.
It's not your fault. Comedy's hard.
Oh, Douglas! Sorry, I need to speak to Madeline.
Douglas!
KNOCKS
Just a moment. Madeline?
Just a moment. I need to talk to you.
Nearly finished, nearly finished, nearly...
HE EXHALES Nearly, nearly, nearly...
Madeline? Nearly, nearly, nearly...
One second. One second.
SHE STUTTERS
All yours.
Madeline... Oh, look at your face.
You must be wondering what the hell's going on.
Oh, I'm fairly clear on one thing that's going on,
and that's the fact that you... Shut it.
I'm sorry? The door. Shut it.
Idea for a new sitcom in six parts.
HE SIGHS
Four parts.
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