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Me and my friends exchanging insults to eachother

Kayleigh: SHITFACE

Jayden: BIG FAT LESBIAN

Lewis: BALD EGG

Katy: SMELLY BUM BUM

Lil' Laura: BIG FATTY BUM BUM

ME: YOU FUCKING BUNCH OF ACNE COVERED FUCKING GOBSHITES FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

*silence*

See what you do to me, Malcolm?

#askmalcolmtucker #I CAN SWEAR YOU ASSS

Fic: Pure Crackfic. 3 Malcolms

(A pure fever dream from not being well at all recently. Askmalcolmtucker, malcolmtuckeris and malcolmsayingnicethings in the same room. I'm off back to bed.) Sam was daydreaming at work, a rare moment between organising Malcolm's work and sorting out her own. It was wrong and god did she know it but her thoughts kept returning to his hands. Those long clever fingers, wide palms. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't craved the touch of those hands. A flash of light from under his office door broke her out of her reverie. She hadn't heard a bulb break, nor were there any cameras in their offices. When she heard Malcolm's voice raised in a "what the FUCK?" she raced to his door and opened it. 3 sets of identical blue eyes looked at her. 3 Malcolm Tuckers. One of them spoke in that familiar understated drawl: "Sam, pet. We may have a problem" -------******------******------****** Later, when she'd been assured of which of them was the 'Real' one (at least where this universe was related to) and given instructions to not let anyone into the office, Sam returned to her desk and Malcolm closed the door to face the other two. "That'll hold the baying mobs off, I don't fancy explaining to anyone why I've somehow managed to clone myself" One of the others (Christ he needed some fucking labels) spoke up "I don't think we're clones, exactly, I've noticed a few differences" "Okay, alternate fucking universes then. Where did ye spring from, the universe where nobody wears a fucking suit anymore?" For one of the newcomer Malcolms was attired in a very familiar snuggly fleece. "Suits make people on edge, I prefer a more relaxed approach, say nice things, keeps people happy" he smiled. In perfect unison the other two swore at him. Through further discussion (and swearing) they found that between the two suit-clad Malcolms there wasn't much difference except that one of them had run a column where people could ask him stuff, and the other had rather more embarrassing pictures of his past than the other two. Beyond that there wasn't much to tell them apart, that was until the questions from the Nice Malcolm started. A few minutes after he'd been asked if he was in love with Sam, the Ask Malcolm had flung an entire stack of newspapers at the other two and threatened them with a punch up the bracket. Brackets. Whatever the fuck terminology you used when dealing with your duplicates. "Now, come on, this isn't helping. How about a drink and something to eat while we try to figure this out" Nice Malcolm smiled and started rummaging through the room for bags of satsumas and cans of Fanta. "Ye should wear a fucking maids outfit if ye are going to act like one" snarled Ask Malcolm but gratefully accepted the satsuma thrown at him. "Did we ever act like that?" asked the last Malcolm, cracking open a can of fizzy drink, "I know I have some bad photos of my past but I cannot imagine being this servile" "Probably on Prozac or some shite" "Aye, you're likely right"

#Fanfiction #Crackfic #Malcolm tucker #askmalcolmtucker #malcolmtuckeris #malcolmsayingnicethings

Inspired by TTOI ask blogs

"Why are ye still here lass?" Sam had been dreading this moment since she'd moved herself into Malcolm's place, supposedly to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't fall to despair now his job was gone. At first this had been the case; there had been a couple of very dark nights when she (and indeed everyone else) feared he was planning to end it or retreat into his own melancholia, never to be seen again. It had even worried Nicola Murray who frankly had every reason to want to see Malcolm destroyed. But that was then. Malcolm hadn't had a depressive fit in weeks and if he sat outside of an evening 'fer a wee think' she knew the gears in his head were spinning to plot and plan the rest of his life. Not the end of it. This evening she'd retired to bed early, but just sitting up reading a book after a long bath (Malcolm would never burst into the bathroom while she was in there, unlike some of her former flatmates) instead of sleeping as she'd known at some level this conversation was coming. She'd just got to the end of a chapter when there was a soft knock at the door and a very familiar voice saying "ye awake Sam? Fancy a wee chat". She'd of course let him in. After all, it was his house. Malcolm had wandered in and sat at the side of the bed closest to the door, careful to make sure no part of him was touching her. Manners once beaten into him by Ma Tucker never faded. "So, why are ye still here?" He asked again when she just fiddled with the book and then the corner of the duvet. "Don't say it's to make sure I don't top myself because that's utter fucking pish and I won't hear it. So fucking spill" Sam had never looked away from Malcolm, one of the reasons he'd hired her was that she truly wasn't afraid of him, although right now she knew she was doing a damn good impression of it. "Because you need someone to be here Malcolm. Being on your own with all this going on-" "I'm a fucking grown man Sam. In fact I'm a fucking middle aged one with grey hair and fucking wrinkles and I know bullshit when I hear it. Ye've never lied to me. Do not start now" She looked down at her hands and asked if he was throwing her out. "What? What the fuck has crawled into your head and started masquerading as a brain? I'd never toss ye out onto the street and what's more you fucking know it. I just want to know why you are here" Malcolm was starting to get his bollocking face on. Sam knew from long experience that if there was one thing he hated more than anything it was not knowing what was going on around him. Right now that meant her. "Well, Malcolm, why do you think I am here?" She said, putting the book on the nightstand to cover the shaking of her fingers. "Fuck, love. I'm too fucking tired to play this game. If I'm not going to get an answer out of ye tonight I'm going tae bed." He moved slightly as if to get up but was stopped by her small hand resting on his. "I'm sorry Malcolm. I was hoping this conversation wouldn't happen until at least after the trial, because I am not at all sure you need this right now adding to your plate" Malcolm said nothing for a bit, then moved his hand palm up and wrapped his fingers around hers. "Okay love, here's how I see it. Either ye are just bein' a friend in which case I'll say goodnight and go to my bed. Or ye are in love with me in which case my bedroom is over there and ye can join me and we can stop pussyfooting around this shite" "So, which is it?"

#Fanfiction #Malcolm tucker #Sam Cassidy #askmalcolmtucker #asksamcassidy

I hate using the word "feels" as a noun. But. The Thick of It RP blogs are NOT helping my poor Malcolm feels.

Heartbreak. Wonderful, terrible heartbreak.

#the thick of it #askmalcolmtucker #asksamcassidy #asknicolamurray #askolliereeder

'But there are certainly one or two people here that I’d have tried to pick up if we’d met in a pub instead.' - Who? Come on, spill! :)

I've had enough to drink that I'll respond to this. Dan Miller is rather devilishly handsome and charming. When Jamie wasn't threatening to disembowel people, you might have noticed he has amazing eyes. And that accent is always a plus. I'd never cross the aisle, but I can see how Peter Mannion got into trouble in his younger days. I can't be the only one who grows a bit warm when hearing his voice. And, well, Malcolm is of course Malcolm.

#Too much to drink #honesty leads to trouble #askdanmiller #askmalcolmtucker #askpetermannion #askjamiemcdonald