001 - Voice

[fuckitybye]

[Prior to this, anyone near Malcom's room (level 7, room 5) will have heard him banging about in confusion for a bit; as his cabin looks like his office at No. 10, that's where he thinks he is. Then, in an attempt to page his assistant, he accidentally turns on the voice posting device and a loud Scottish voice is heard:]

—Sam? SAM? The fuck is up with putting a bed in here? This some kind of fucking joke? I can ream out that twat Nicholson just fine with him bent over my fucking desk, aye?

[Pause.]

Sam?

Oh, for fuck's sake—

[Sound of door opening. Long, stunned silence.]

What the fuck?

Comments

I'm going to let Scotty forget his filter now, for the sake of torturing him.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

D'you think mum'll forgive me if I depend on you to be nice enough for the two of us, then?

He's a monster from Whitehall, and I think that's giving the bloke a good deal of credit.

and howie headdesks.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I think she will. I'm not sure she'll forgive you for just saying all that in public, though.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Bloody nice day, innit, Sergeant?

[fuckitybye]

Go on, son, fucking tell us something we've never heard before.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Workin' for the Queen, is it? Oh, that's bloody nice, mate.

[fuckitybye]

I work to keep the leaking fucking ship that is the Labour government afloat.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

We're not letting you back in to Glasgow, lad.

[fuckitybye]

You the fucking mayor or something then, chum?

/FALLS OVER DEAD FROM GLARE

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Aye, that I'm not, but I am Montgomery Scott of the USS Enterprise and I'll knock yer lights out if you come home stinkin' of those bloody jocks.

[fuckitybye]

You're who?

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Montgomery Scott. Scotty. Call me Scotty.

Oh Christ, please don't tell me we're related. My mum... her heart wouldn't take the news too well.

[fuckitybye]

Scotty. Enterprise. As in Captain Kirk and all that shit, yeah?

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Yeah, yeah. That's the one. The Captain's here, in fact. Where'd you hear?

[fuckitybye]

[Malcolm snorts. It's a very dry, end-of-the-rope laugh.]

Oh my fucking Christ, you have got to be ... Don't tell me, the pointy-eared fucker is here too?

*innocent whistling commences*

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

It is, isn't it, Mr Scott? Great weather up here on seven. How is it where you are?

/SOBS.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Storm's coming, methinks.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I'm sure your mum would tell you to remember your raincoat.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

Don't think mum has a raincoat for this kind of storm. Cats. Dogs. Glaswegians betraying their country for a bunch of sassenach politicians.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

Hey, we leant them a king. We can lend them some political monkey types. It basically means we own them in the end.

It's like what they did to us, but slightly more surrupticious, and in reverse.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

If only you were so good at justifying away the moral as you were the political, mate. Crafty fellow when you're really tryin'!

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I just, generally, believe there's a thousand more immoral things in the world than a Scotsman working in London.

Not even sure that one made it into the Bible.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

It should've. Especially this particular Scotsman. Too late to make an addendum?

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

I think, generally, as a text, it's not very editable.

You could always ask Aziraphale, he collects rare Bibles. Maybe it's in one of those.

[beam-me.livejournal.com]

No, I s'pose it isn't.

Yanking on my chain, as they say, mate. I'll have this discussion with Aziraphale regardless. If only to make your ears ring.

[kingfor-aday.livejournal.com]

You would do it just for that reason, wouldn't you?