It is a good day to be Malcolm Tucker. Somehow his party has returned to power, with a Socialist at the helm. Obviously, given the choice, he'd have not put the current PM in charge. However, seeing as the man single handedly brought him back into the fold, Tucker has no right to complain.

Not only was he rescued from the hellishly boring depths of Irish politics, he now has dozens of new morons to shout at. The PM brought in a load of people from Washington to help with the NHS situation. Apparently, they all played important roles in the development and implementation of Obamacare, and the PM thinks their experience and outside perspective may prove useful. While Malcolm has his doubts, bollocking Americans sounds like fun. Maybe he can get one to pish himself. As he makes his way toward the Ministry of Health offices, he hears a familiar voice calling from behind him.

"He-hey, if it isn't everyone's least favorite ex-con. How'd prison treat ye, ya wee poofter? Still have your arsehole intact, or are ye'se lugging round a colostomy bag these days?"

"Jamie, how absolutely unnecessary to see you. And here I thought the new PM had brains for bringing me back. Now that I know he pulled you out of whatever wretched fucking cesspit you've been lurking in, I see I was mistaken."

Malcolm tries to sound casual, but he cannot keep the bile out of his voice. He knew that his former protege had taken over the position of Director of Communications some years back, but he'd hoped not to run into him so soon. Jamie's actions during the Tom/Dan Miller mess had proven him untrustworthy, and everything Malcolm witnessed during his 'exile' did nothing to change that opinion.

"Oh aye Malc, start right in with the barbs. Didn't ye get the lovely care package I sent?" he replies, feigning injury.

"Aye, I did. The bouquet of condoms was a nice touch. Everyone had a right laugh at that. You treacherous, dog-faced, hobbit."

"Just tryin' to look out for ye. I'm very generous like that, ya know. Even toward a corrupt, over-the-hill rent-boy with saggy balls."

A wide, malicious smile spreads across Jamie's face.

"Oh aye. You do realize that you are now the personal fucking plaything of this saggy-balled rent-boy, don't ye? The PM saw the absolute shitstorm you were raining down over his Cabinet and got me on the first flight over from Dublin. He even set me up in a very nice hotel suite down the road. A bloody socialist brings in a disgraced spin doctor and gives him the star fucking treatment. That's how terrifying he finds the thought of you as Communications Director. Almost makes ye proud, doesn't it?" Malcolm inquires.

With each unfolding sentence, Jamie's shit-eating grin slowly transforms into a steely-eyed glare.

"And how is the Maison de Travelodge? Enjoy that stale croissant and burnt coffee this mornin'? I'm sure those stiff cum-encrusted sheets made you feel right at home. Meanwhile I woke up to a fucking blowjob and full English breakfast, before walking into my office with the best Columbian coffee a twenty-something blonde cunt with more tits than brains can carry from the shop down the block."

"Oh, that's nice Jamie. Lovely to see that your views have progressed so much since the last time I saw you. No wonder the second our party returns to power, you're back where you were ten years ago. My. Little. Fucking. Bitch. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make some gormless, overweight American shite his tidy whities."

Knowing he's thoroughly put his former second in his place, Malcolm turns to leave.

"Wait. You're headed over the Ministry of Health?"

"Aye. Thought I'd start off gentle. Scaring Americans is like making an MP look stupid. Barely have to be conscious."

"So, what do you know about this lot from Washington?"

"What is there to fucking know? The PM thinks these pre-pubescent wank stains can fix the NHS clusterfuck, and I'm off to terrify them into not fucking it up."

"That's all?"

"What the fuck do you mean 'That's all?'. Of course that's fucking all. I'm goin' to shout at these arseholes. Grab another coffee. Bollock those useless cunts at International Development and then find my fucking office."

"Oh. This I've gotta see."