Malcolm Tucker shall rise again

Malcolm Tucker, the foul-mouthed spin doctor from Armando Ianucci's The Thick of It (BBC2), is the best character on television. I was a late-comer to the show, only picking it up half-way through the second series, after the whole Chris Langham controversy. But as soon as I started watching it I realised it was a work of utter genius. I couldn't believe I hadn't been following it from the start. The two hour-long specials, 'Rise of the Nutters', and 'Spinners and Losers', especially the latter, are paragons of political satire. I have always adored 'Yes Minister', to which 'The Thick of It' clearly owes much of its inspiration, but this is a truly grown-up, twenty-first century take on Westminster and the Media. It has eclipsed even its illustrious predecessor and brought us the definitive comedy of governmental manners for a generation.

And at the heart of it all is the gloriously sweary, the magnificently malignant, the brilliantly cynical master of the dark arts, Malcolm Tucker, played with riveting glee by Peter Capaldi. Tucker is the Prime Minister's all-powerful henchman and Director of Communications, a figure based very obviously on Alastair Campbell, but endowed with an even more bullying, even more grotesque, armoury of insults and put-downs. He stalks the halls of number 10 and DoSAC (Department of Social Affairs and Communities?), making pathetic ministers cower and blub as he manipulates every story, spins every interview, to save the Government's face. Author of such unforgettable lines as:

'I'd love to stop and chat to you, but I'd rather have type 2 diabetes...'

'He's as useful as a marzipan dildo...'

'How much fucking shit is there on the menu, and what fucking flavour is it?'

Crises come and go, and cabinet members rise and fall, but Malcolm rises above it all, plots his way through every political thicket, and somehow emerges triumphant, even when it seems his many enemies are finally about to get him. At least, that was until this Saturday, episode 7 of series three, when, horror of horrors, Malcolm finally got sacked. It was a shock that came completely out of the blue. Yes, his former rival and fellow spin-meister, the hysterically odious Steve Fleming, had been brought back, and yes, Steve had been getting uncomfortably cosy with Julius Nicholson, now Lord Nicholson, the pompous and useless twat whom Malcolm used to routinely humiliate, but there was never any signal that Malcolm could be got rid of, that his power base was insecure.

And then it happened. In an absolutely unforgettable scene, a preening Steve approaches Malcolm in the corridor: 'Malcolm, could we have a little chat?' Something is clearly wrong, but it hasn't dawned on Malcolm yet. He can't even allow himself to think what is coming. His face freezes. Steve sits heavily on the corner of his desk, and sighs a sigh of pure pleasure, prolonging the moment of ecstasy. 'Malcolm, the Prime Minister respects you, enormously....' And then it comes, the letter already drafted for Malcolm to sign, the press already reporting his departure. Malcolm, for once, completely thrown, violent, angry, refusing to go quietly.

'Don't you fucking touch that tie. That's Paul Smith, you twat.'

And then, at last, he sweeps down the corridor in his long coat to greet the assembled reporters. But before he does, before he opens the door, he shouts back at Fleming and Nicholson: 'You will see me again...' and To Be Continued appears on the blank screen. I can't wait until the next episode. I can't wait a week. I cant wait for Malcolm's revenge. Because he will have his revenge, and it will be sweet, and it will be absolutely fucking terrible. Steve Fleming is going to get what's coming to him. Malcolm Tucker is going to rise again and if that means taking down the whole fucking government to do it, then that's what he'll do. Tune in. It will be unmissable.