Some of us have work to do.
Typical.
It's a joke. They never say anything in that fucking place.
They never tell you what they want,
then blame you for not doing it.
Bloody joke.
Do I tell you how to do your job?
Good evening, Ralf. Running late again, are we?
Oh, boy! The cigarettes aren't helping.
Just leave it.
New rucksack, Ralf?
Everything all right?
- Evening, Ralf. - Who's here today?
Only Mr. Fest and Jennifer.
Where do they want me to start? Did anyone say?
Not to me.
Typical.
You've left the vacuum running.
Gunman! Get out!
Please, don't! Please. Don't shoot me.
The frontrunner to be the next German Chancellor, Manfred Fest
is expected to visit his son, Elias,
in hospital this morning.
Elias was the subject
of an assassination attempt last night,
which commentators are linking
to Manfred's anti-immigration stance.
Turn this off.
Of course.
What good will crying do you?
No, I'm asking you a question?
How is going to pieces going to help Elias?
For God's sake, just pull yourself together.
His mother is bawling like a child.
She could never control herself.
Should I have the office send flowers? Maybe a card?
Put something... affectionate.
No, not affectionate.
We don't want a misunderstanding.
Put something...
...positive.
ETA three minutes.
- Roger that. - I'm sorry... it's the office.
Do you want to give a reaction
to the latest Ulle Dag Charles story?
I can say no. It's for the British media.
Vultures.
Have they no souls?
Fest, you're a fascist!
What a rabble.
Please stay in the vehicle, sir.
You too, miss.
We're going to do this quick.
When the candidate gets out of the car,
I want him through that door in ten seconds flat.
Got it?
Shooter!
Check the 30-story building southeast of our position.
The shooter is probably on the 16th or 17th floor.
Gare du Nord, please.
What are you doing here?