“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? 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.”
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Malcolm Tucker, The Thick Of It (via thehellofitall)
In which The Thick of It got real dark.