So, we're getting a little close to the wire, Mr Tucker. Where is that intel, huh? What...

Linton Barwick: So, we're getting a little close to the wire, Mr Tucker. Where is that intel, huh? What sort of intel have you rustled up? Malcolm Tucker: Ah, the smoking intel? Linton Barwick: Yeah. Malcolm Tucker: Well, honestly, I haven't got it. Linton Barwick: You haven't got it? All right. OK. Well, then, can you delay the vote? lt'd give you the time to get it. Malcolm Tucker: I've just had it brought forward. Linton Barwick: I am telling you, delay the vote and make yourself some time to get the intel, because I need it, my friend. Malcolm Tucker: Hey. OK. Just a quick reality check here, J Edgar Fucking Hoover, I don't work for you. You don't fucking tell me what to do. Linton Barwick: OK. Firstly, don't raise your voice. This is a sacred place. Now, you may not believe that and I may not believe that, but, by God, it's a useful hypocrisy. And, secondarily, I believe your Prime Minister has instructed you to work for me. Oh, the great Malcolm Tucker. One of your guys leaks a paper - you can't do anything. Huh? We tell you to get some intel - you can't do anything. I need you to move the vote back - you can't do anything. I am afraid you are nothing but a useless piece of S star-star T.