Four o'clock in the afternoon.
The most propitious time for public statements.
No, I haven't fallen prey to astrologers.
A four o'clock announcement catches the evening television news
and first editions of the newspapers.
Well, here we go.
Afternoon, Tim. Ahem!
Gentlemen, ladies, please sit down.
Come and sit down, Tim.
Some of you know that it is with quite
a little reluctance that I find myself here.
I am more used to serving behind the scenes.
But since so many have pledged their support for me,
I would be very arrogant to spurn them.
So... I accept nomination
for the leadership of the Conservative Party.
I have a great belief in the people of this country.
I think they know the kind of government they want.
A government that's firm and fair.
A government that is not afraid to govern.
I would like to see a bit less ideology and a bit more common sense.
A bit more common humanity
in our conduct of affairs here and abroad.
Daddy!
As you were. Any comments, Tim?
- Fine. Committed yourself to nothing. - Quite.
Still, we'll need more than speeches.
Yes. First ballot. Who are we up against?
McKenzie, Earle, Woolton, Samuels.
And three no-hopers: Bairsted, Llewellyn-Jones-Rhys and Bogg.
Right. McKenzie, Health.
No chance of getting him into a demo at a hospital?
Doesn't go to hospitals.
Got beaten up by nurses. Has trouble getting insured.
- Where does he have his photo taken? - Cybertech. They make wheelchairs.
A photo opportunity with wheelchairs.
That sounds promising.
- Nearly there, Minister. - Right.
You'll meet Mr. Fairchild, the managing director,
and Dr Sinita Brahmachari,
- the engineer who designed the chair. - Indian, is he?
SHE is a British citizen, Minister. Born in Coventry.
- The chair's won what? - Brussells Gold Medal, Helsinki Award.
It's been adopted as standard in Sweden, Holland, Norway and West Germany.
- Not here? - Too expensive for us.
Right. Dr Brahmachari, yes?
Yes, Mr. McKenzie. Here we are.
What the hell's going on?
Who let these people in? I'm not having this. Drive on.
Drive on to the next place.
- I can't move. - Get me out of here.
It's all right, sir. They can't get in.
Do as I damn well say. Back out.
- I wouldn't advise it. - Do it. Do it!
He's dead.
''Health Minister maims cripple in hit-and-run.''
Poor man must have panicked. Next?
- Harold Earle. - Got anything on him?
There was a whiff of scandal about ten years ago.
Rent boy. In a train. To Red Hill.
Yes. Wanted to sell his story but we bought it and hushed him up.
Be ungentlemanly to bring that up.
A man's private life should be private.
On the other hand, getting sucked off in second class
is hardly Prime Ministerial behaviour.
- Yes, you have a point there. - I think we have something in the file.
''Personal and family reasons.''
Shame.
His mother's in very poor health, I hear.
- Woolton and Samuels? - Samuels is clean. Never a foot wrong.
A lot of funny stories about Pat Woolton,
but nothing we can really use.
I've a lot of time for Patrick Woolton.
McKenzie was a fool and Earle was a security risk. They had to be stopped.
If Samuels or Woolton emerges as a clear leader, I'll stand down.
There's more to politics than ambition.
It's a feature article. Well, two, really.
But you figure in both.
''Independent'' magazine want ''Downfall of a Prime Minister''.
I sold the ''Sunday Express'' colour mag an idea about...
It sounds a bit crude...
MPs with sex appeal.
Is that too coarse and frivolous for you?
Well, I don't know...
You've made your mark. Your question in the House started a landslide.
Clever as well as charismatic.
The idea is, there are certain politicians
who have that edge of authority and style,
know how to seize the moment as it passes.
You certainly managed that.
- Just luck, I guess. - It was more than that.
Good contacts, for one thing.
Who tipped you off about the health service?
You know I couldn't tell you that.
No, of course you couldn't. But you could help me guess.
It had to be someone from in the cabinet or someone in Smith Square, yes?
You've got lots of friends, but none in the Tory cabinet.
But you used to work in PR for Glick and Featherstone.
And so did one or two people in the party publicity office.
I think it's time to change the subject.
Yes, of course.
You tell Roger his secret is safe with me.
My Urquhart! Have you a second?
- Barely. Busy day for me. - Yes. First ballot tonight.
- I wanted to wish you luck... - Carry on. I'll catch you up.
Bad time, Mattie.
I have to see you. It isn't just personal.
Mrs. Urquhart is going to the country.
Come late, after midnight, in a taxi.
If there's a light over the door, drive on.
No, that's all. No further statement.
The result of the first ballot is as follows.
Mr. Peter Bairsted, seven votes.
Mr. George Bogg, one vote.
The Right Honourable Melvyn Llewellyn-Jones-Rhys, 13 votes.
Right Honourable Michael Samuels, 99 votes.
Right Honourable Francis Urquhart, 91 votes.
And the Right Honourable Patrick Woolton, 91 votes.
No clear winner having emerged,
we move to the second ballot one week from today.
Come on, come on! please, God.
Francis, we're in trouble.
I'm not at all pleased with you, Mattie.
Why? What have I done? Don't frown.
I think you know what you've done.
Talked to Kendrick? And he told O'Neill.
Making my task difficult. I'd hoped to take him by surprise.
- I'm sorry. - You promised to leave it to me.
You broke your promise.
Sorry. It was stupid of me. I see that.
It's not a disaster.
It simply means I'll need longer to win his confidence.
That's not important.
- I feel so stupid. - You mustn't put yourself in danger.
Roger isn't a dangerous man, but his master is.
Who is it? You know, don't you?
At the moment, we have only a shred of evidence,
but you might hazard a guess.
Billsborough. Lord Billsborough plotting with Samuels.
You might very well think that, Mattie. You might very well think that.
But you mustn't take any more risks. You mustn't place yourself in jeopardy.
Will you promise me that?
Yes. Yes. I promise.
Good.
Playing with the hopes and dreams of a daughter. Now gentle, now hard.
Rebuking and rewarding.
Chastising and forgiving.
The pleasures of a father.
Of a father of daughters.
What greater power is there than that?
Why should a man want more?
Why should I yearn to be everybody's daddy?
A nice review. The Landless empire have gone for you in a cautious way.
Despite you not backing his takeover.
The ''Guardian'' is still for Samuels. They would be.
The ''Sun'' finds Woolton most congenial.
So do a lot of our parliamentary colleagues.
Thinking of a get-together?
Woolton and Urquhart in an anti-Samuels pact?
Not yet, Tim. Besides, I think we should leave it to Patrick
to make the first move.
- Good morning. - Good morning, sir.
Sorry, but they know about the address in Praed Street.
They've guessed about Kendrick.
Francis, help me. I can't take much more. It's not my line of...
What are you doing? Listen to me.
I'm not going to be a gentleman.
If I go down, I'm going to spill the lot...
No one's going down! No one's going to spill anything!
You're going to come out of this with a knighthood. A knighthood.
No one has a shred of proof against you, whatever they think they know.
No one will print that girl's fantasies.
She's a hysterical, trouble-making bimbo.
Nothing to worry about, Roger. All right?
Oh, God, Francis.
I'm not a well man.
I'm not up to this.
Listen.
Go home. Let your girl look after the office.
Go down to the coast for a couple of days.
Then come to my country place.
We'll have a few jars, walk the dogs and sew the whole thing up.
I guarantee that, come Sunday, you'll have nothing to worry about.
And that's a promise, Roger. All right?
All right, Francis.
You're a good friend.
Thank you.
- Bad news? - I'm afraid so.
We shall have a guest. Not your favourite person.
Roger O'Neill, I presume.
He's cracking up.
Someone's been indiscreet and the press are onto him.
It seems his young woman has been talking to my young woman.
- You said you had her under control. - I have.
Nothing connects me with O'Neill. No one knows he's coming to see me.
He's become a bit of a pest, hasn't he?
- After this weekend, no worries. - What happens this weekend?
- I can't tell you. - You've someone else to shack up with?
No! It's business, Penny. Business.
This weekend, we were going away.
Oh, God!
- Ah, Penny, what can I say? - Nothing. I don't care. You're no fun.
You used to be a lovely man. Now you lie around,
do drugs and piss your pants.
I was born for better things. Cheers.
- Penny, where are you going? - Back to the old flat, bollock-head!
Ring me and I will talk to you.
If you want to see me again, get your head straight.
Penny, listen... Please!
Penny!
''Those who wish to air their social consciences
will support Samuels.
''Those whose politics are of the free-market, buccaneering style
''need to look no further than Woolton.
''Those who can't make up their minds
will have an obvious choice in Urquhart.''
The ''Guardian''? Not very charming.
No, but I come out least worst. They say I stand for something.
No Tory MP wants to tell the local sharks
he voted with his social conscience.
Or that he went for a nonentity. Francis Urquhart Who's he?
''No, I went for Pat Woolton. His heart's in the right place.''
That's what they say, is it?
Stuff along those lines, yes.
What's this?
It's not a bomb or it would've gone off.
''Patrick Woolton in congress.''
Are you sure?
- Not ''in conversation''? - No. Nothing with it.
Bung it on. Let's see what it is.
Great! Ah, splendid!
- Oh, yes! - Hang on, hang on. Can I move my arm?
- Ah! Yes! - You're hurting me.
You love it dirty! love it!
Yes! Yes!
Yes! Oh, yes! Yes!
Yes! Agh!
Yes! Ah!
And how was that for you, then, Penny?
- Brilliant, thank you, Pat - Good, Good, because...
I gave my bloody all. I gave my bloody all.
Ah, Penny.
Girl at the conference. You know.
These things happen.
I'm sorry, Stephanie.
God knows how she...
- I'd never have thought... - I do realise these things go on.
It's how you and I became acquainted.
But you picked the wrong one this time.
Find out what your little whore wants. Buy her off. Do whatever it takes.
- Yes, of course, Stephanie. - Well, go on, then!
Oh, and one more thing. Let me know if I need an HIV test, won't you?
- What was all that about?! - I don't know...
Little bitch!
Don't you touch me again!
Now, what are you talking about?
A tape purporting to be of you and me in Brighton on the job.
My wife played it at the breakfast table.
It must have been you who sent it.
I wouldn't want anyone to know I'd been with you.
I hate to think about it.
I'm not a whore, I don't blackmail people,
I have all the money I need.
I just wish I knew some people I could trust.
If not you... who?
Hello.
It's for you.
- Woolton? - Who's that?
No one you know.
Let's say it's a government health warning.
In your case, there's no such thing as safe sex. In your case...
the withdrawal method is the only viable alternative.
I'm sure you understand.
I've a short statement to make.
I am withdrawing from the contest for the leadership.
I'm a practical man.
I believe my friendFrancis Urquhart has a better chance of winning.
I'm not prepared to split the vote.
As of now, Francis Urquhart has my support.
When he's Prime Minister,
as he will be, I'll be proud to serve in his government.
Thank you very much.
Why Urquhart? I didn't know you liked him.
I don't like him. I can't stand the sod, in fact.
No, it's because I don't want the other bastard to win.
That... er... girl.
Belongs to a chap called O'Neill.
O'Neill belongs to that evil reptile Billsborough.
- Michael Samuels's sponsor. - That's one way of putting it.
Yes, old Teddy Billsborough.
Riding on Samuels' back, arms around his throat like the old man of the sea.
Samuels belongs to Billsborough.
O'Neill does too. The girl belongs to O'Neill.
- So she belongs to Billsborough. - What a charming world-view.
Everybody belongs to somebody.
I was nobbled by Billsborough in aid of Samuels.
One day I'll bloody prove it.
- I'm backing Urquhart as he's older. - Old farts stick together.
Old farts die sooner. I'll be waiting in the wings.
Don't you worry. I'll be back.
I'm not pleased with you, Mattie. I'm angry.
Why? What have I done? Don't frown.
I think you know what you've done.
Talked to Kendrick? And he told O'Neill.
What?
How did you know?
- Sorry. - You promised to leave it to me.
You broke your promise.
I do understand, between the two of us,
that Mr. O'Neill has a cocaine problem.
What?
It's one's business to know these things.
Mr. O'Neill has a cocaine problem.
What?
It's one's business to know these things.
He owed someone a favour.
Believe me, Roger wouldn't hurt a fly.
Somebody in this building,,, It would have to be.
They made it look as if Charles had been subscribing since January the 1st.
Can I say something in absolute confidence?
Yes. Yes, of course you can.
I've heard hints that the tabloids are going to mount an attack
on the PM. A nasty one.
They're going to use his brother, Charles Collingridge.
Don't you know him?
July the 28th.
You heard hints.
Where from?
No.
You trust me, don't you, Mattie?
You know I do.
You trust me, don't you, Mattie?
You know I do.
You trust me, don't you, Mattie?
You know I do.
Roger! Good man. You made it.
Francis, you're a sight for sore eyes.
Come on inside.
It's a beautiful place you've got here.
Thank you.
- Thanks. Cheers. - Cheers.
- Roger... - Yes?
Barring accidents, we'll be in 10 Downing Street.
I've thought about what I'll need.
- But we'll talk about what YOU want. - I've been thinking about that too.
What you need as well as what I want.
It struck me you could very well do with someone like me there at number 10.
Publicity specialist. Personal spokesman.
No. I've got that all sewn up.
I'd like you to stay on in your present post
under a new chairman.
But that's...
That's nothing.
That's nothing more than I'm doing now!
You said you were going to take care of me.
You promised me a K., Francis.
And you deserve it.
But it may be difficult to deliver a knighthood in the short term.
Don't... Don't you bloody try to sell me short, you old bugger!
After all I've done for you! Lied for you! Stolen for you!
Oh, God! I lost the best girl in the world for you!
Leave me stranded in the shit,
I'll drag you down with me till you're blinded and drownded!
I'm only saying it may be difficult
to get you into the New Year's honours list.
There's another one in the spring.
I must say I didn't expect to be abused in this way.
You don't seem awfully well.
I hope I'm going to be able to rely on you to be discreet.
Oh, Francis...
What can I say?
There's nothing I can say.
But I'm sorry.
I got hold of the wrong end of the stick entirely. I...
I've been under a lot of strain with this business.
And Penny going.
But for... for all that, and everything, you can rely on me, Francis.
I'll keep my mouth shut. Honest to God.
Yes, Roger. I believe you will.
Come on, let's have another drink.
She loved me, that girl, Francis.
And I loved her.
LOVE her.
Love her.
She's gone.
She doesn't work for me anymore.
She's gone to work for another man.
She asked me, would I blame her?
How can I blame her?
The things I asked her to do were never in her job description.
Shouldn't be in anybody's job description,
except the job description of a whore.
Sometimes I think we must all be whores now.
Here's to being a whore.
Except...
Except, she had to, really.
It never was my turn to bite the pillow.
She doesn't love me anymore.
She doesn't love me anymore, and my poor heart hurts so bad.
It really does hurt.
Now, isn't that a funny thing?
And no one to blame but myself.
I mean, who would have thought I'd be where I am today?
Did you dream of how your life would be, Francis, when you were a boy?
With a boy's heart.
Is this what the Good lord meant for us?
If you can look into the seeds of time
and say which grain will grow, and which will not.
- What? - Nothing.
I like whisky.
I sometimes wish I was an alcoholic.
Life would be so simple.
Getting hold of the other stuff is tedious.
It's a way of sodding life in itself.
I wonder if it'll be any easier when I'm a knight?
Sir Roger O'Neill.
A 50-quid deal for Sir Roger O'Neill. And be quick about it, my good man.
All I want is to be happy. You know that?
And to have my lovely black girl in my bed again.
Just for the cuddle.
Just for the warmth.
Now she's gone, I get so cold.
Cold as stone.
Right through to the bone.
This is an act of mercy.
Truly.
You know the man now.
You can see he has nowhere to go. He's begging to be set free.
He's had enough.
And when he's finally at rest,
then we'll be free to remember the real Roger.
The burning boy in the green jersey,
with that legendary, fabulous sidestep,
and the brave, terrified smile.
An act of mercy.
You've been asleep for hours, Roger.
- I'm sorry... - It's six o'clock. Listen,
change of plan. The BBC are coming to film some footage. I had to agree.
Can't let them find you here.
You'll have to get going.
I left it as long as I dared before disturbing you.
Listen, go back to your flat and stay there.
I'll contact you in the morning.
- Right. Look, Francis... - Listen, don't worry.
Everything's going to be fine, Roger.
Absolutely fine.
Now, just a moment. There.
Just...
Just keep awake.
Just keep straight.
Done it before.
Done it all. Been everywhere.
Seen it all.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
That's better.
That woke me up. Fine now.
Ah, it's a doddle. Easy for a clever boy like me.
Who was top in arithmetic? Hmm?
Roger O'Neill, and him the youngest boy in the class.
And who was selected as fly-half for the All-Ireland Under-14s?
Roger O'Neill.
The laughing ghost.
Ducking and weaving. Ducking and weav...
Oh, thank you, Jesus, in your mercy.
Just this once.
'Cause it can't be denied it does you no good in the long run.
Get through this weekend. Then finish.
Get my lovely girl back.
Health farm.
Shag...
ourselves...
No.
Take her...
Take her to the west coast.
Galway.
So beautiful there.
See her eyes sparkle when she sees that sea.
That sky.
Ahh... Jesus.
Magic.
Yes, yes. I have seen it, as a matter of fact.
I find it quite irresponsible.
I'd be surprised if Michael Samuels
was ever a member of the Communist Party.
And as for his CND and pro-gay stance,
well, that was a long time ago
when he was an undergraduate at Cambridge, I understand.
I think we should forgive a man a few youthful indiscretions.
What, me?
No, no, no.
I was too busy as a young lieutenant
in the Scots Guards for anything like that.
- What do you make of it? - Nothing seems to make sense.
That file on Samuels was in Central Office.
So O'Neill again, I suppose.
I suppose, but O'Neill working for who?
He worked for Billsborough on behalf of Samuels. This smear is on Samuels.
Billsborough playing a double game? Landless? Urquhart?
- No, not Urquhart. - Why not?
I just... Oh, it's hopeless.
I don't know why I'm still working on it.
I have no job. No one except the BBC will even use me as a freelance.
I just keep thinking, ''Two days more. I'll give it two days till the election.
''If I haven't got any further, I'll give up.''
The infuriating thing is,
I feel as if I already have the answer somehow.
I just can't see it for looking.
7998. Oh, John, hi.
Roger O'Neill's dead.
What?
The Southampton police found him
in a toilet on the M27 at 4:30 this morning.
Drug-induced heart failure, apparently.
Sorry. That's that.
God, I feel so bad about this.
I jacked him in. And the job. I couldn't go on with him like that.
I thought if I left him he could get himself straight.
I know he can do it.
I mean...
God... I'm sorry.
That's OK.
He could be such fun, you know?
He didn't give a bugger. He was such a wicked man.
What was he doing in Southampton?
He was supposed to spend the weekend with someone. Wouldn't say who.
I'd left him, and I rang him up three times a day
just to make sure he was all right.
Do you know... why he died?
What d'you mean? He had heart failure, or someone sold him some bad stuff.
What does it matter? He's dead.
He was being used by someone. That's why he involved you.
I think he was being blackmailed.
He wasn't the only one.
I... erm...
I went with Pat Woolton at the party conference.
Someone taped us and sent it to Pat.
God.
- Who? - Don't know.
Pat thought it was me.
You don't care about Roger. You just want a good story.
I do care, Penny.
I don't want to talk about this anymore.
Roger's dead.
I don't actually care about anything else.
So go away, please, and leave me alone.
- Urquhart? - No!
Then who?
Someone with access to confidential information.
Not just party secrets, cabinet secrets.
The Territorial Army leaks, the hospital cuts, Mendox.
You'd have to be on three different cabinet committees to know all those.
The only person on all three was Collingridge.
Let's try motive again.
Who stood to gainfrom all the leaks and dirty tricks?
Anyone who wanted to get rid of Collingridge and be Prime Minister.
Earle, McKenzie,
Samuels, Billsborough,
Woolton, Urquhart.
Every one of those has been smeared, nobbled or buggered up except Urquhart.
The snag is, Urquhart's not a cabinet minister.
- He didn't have to be. - What?
He didn't have to be. He'd have known about those things by being Chief Whip.
Every department has a Whip.
The junior Whips report to the Chief Whip.
The Chief Whip is informed of anything that is likely to be sensitive.
And he knows personal stuff.
Would he know about Woolton and that girl?
They met in Urquhart's suite, at his party.
Jesus! Mattie, why the hell didn't you think of Urquhart sooner?
- I couldn't bear to think it was him. - Why not?
Can't you guess?
I'm having an affair with him.
Francis Urquhart?
He's old enough to be your father.
What on earth do you think that matters?
I'm in love with him.
You met Patrick at Urquhart's party. Did anyone arrange that meeting?
Roger did.
Look, did you come all this way just to make me cry again?
Of course I didn't. Listen. Was Roger acting for someone?
He was. He didn't say who, though.
Could it have been Urquhart? Did he and Roger know each other well?
I don't think so.
Roger was doing some work for him. Urquhart was angry.
Some cock-up over computer files.
Urquhart has a country house. Do you know where?
I used to have all the cabinet private numbers.
I handed the list in when I left.
No, hang on. I could give you the code. It was my PIN number. 0703.
0703...
0703... 0703.
- Could you say that again, please? - Lyndhurst 37428.
- Is that Lyndhurst. Surrey? - Lyndhurst, Hampshire.
It's the middle of the bloody night here!
- Hello. - John.
Where Roger O'Neill was found...
The motorway services where O'Neill was found.
It's only eight miles from Urquhart's country house!
- Adrian! - Hi, Mattie.
What's going on? It feels like Christmas.
- The Urquhart mob celebrating. - Already?
- Looks like it's the Whip. - Have you seen him?
Urquhart? No, won't do interviews till it's official.
You needn't have hurried.
- Come and have a cup of tea. - No. There's someone I need to see.
Thanks, Adrian.
- I believe you're looking for Francis. - Oh, yes. Yes, I am. Thank you.
Um... you're one of the Whips, aren't you?
- Tim Stamper. - I'm Mattie Storin.
Lately of the ''Chronicle''. Currently a charge upon the state.
- It's not... - We've spoken on the phone.
- I was wondering what you'd look like. - It's urgent. Where's Mr. Urquhart?
- What do you want to see him about? - It's personal.
Yes, I'm sure it is. You'll appreciate he has rather a heavy day today.
- I'm sure he'll make time to see me. - Oh, I shouldn't be surprised at all.
- Roof garden. - Right.
He wanted time to himself.
You'd better be right about his eagerness to see you.
Thank you very much for your help
Mattie, little Mattie.
- I was thinking about you. - I don't think you were.
Indeed I was. Now the struggle seems to be over, I could help you.
Mattie? Is there something the matter?
Is there anything I can do?
You're upset about something. What is it?
Tell me it isn't true.
What?
Tell me it isn't true.
Tell you what isn't true? What, Mattie?
I have many talents, but I'm not a mind-reader.
That you're the one. You were all the time.
The one who framed Collingridge. The one who leaked the documents.
The one who frightened me. The one who killed O'Neill.
Tell me it isn't true. Tell me.
Mattie, Mattie...
Look at me. Come on, now. That's better.
You trust me, don't you?
Did you...?
Did you kill Roger O'Neill?
Mattie, have you any idea at all how much this pains me?
I feel for you very deeply.
I can't bear to be the object of your suspicion.
I trusted you, Mattie. Why couldn't you trust me?
I wanted to. I still want to.
- Do you? - I love you.
Tell me properly. Call me Daddy.
I love you, Daddy.
- I just want to know. - What?
Did you kill Roger O'Neill?
Yes.
- How? - Rat poison.
He had to be put down.
It was an act of mercy.
He's at peace now. Nothing more to fear.
- Mattie... - What?
Can I trust you?
- You know you can. - Oh, Mattie.
It gives me such pain to say this.
But I don't believe you.
I don't believe I can trust you.
Daddy...!
Something made me turn round. I must have heard her.
I had no chance of preventing her.
Yes, I knew her slightly.
She was a very talented young woman, but rather highly-strung.
She interviewed me on several occasions.
She was very upset about losing her job as a political correspondent.
Death is always sad.
But the unexpected death of a young person
on the threshold of her career
is especially upsetting.
Francis Urquhart commenting
on the death of a journalist earlier today.
Mr. Urquhart, at Buckingham Palace,
will be invited by the Queen to form...
No. I have nothing to say.
No.
Don't you see? I had to do it.
How could I have trusted her?
You might very well think that.
I could not possibly comment.