Hello, how are you? 'I'm not great actually, Hugh...'

I know about the lack of click. Was there anything else? 'Hugh, my dad is dying.'

Fucking arse clap. Robyn...

That's right. I don't want to alarm Hugh... God, this gets worse! Listen to me, Robyn.

the same time, about 8.20 and you fuck off out of and go and sit in a park or something, OK?

Not tell Hugh? Yes. It's only temporary.

Fuck off. Yes, I've got the producer's names, so

I think we should tell the Minister. Listen, Robyn, I really like you, but fuck off!

by someone who's clearly out of his fucking tree. I've got to go. I'll talk to you later, OK, bye.

I also see him on a Sunday when I see his family and I make the fucking waffles.

Why don't we just get our remits out, slap them on the table and see who's got the biggest fucking remit?

Whatever it is, we will refit this out as a working office and... Julius, it's a fucking pantry, look.

I'm supposed to polish you up, burnish you up, when get your big break and you're on fucking

Hey, come back in here! Julius, get the fuck back in here!

Go over to your fucking pantry, right. This is a perfectly usable office space.

Cool it for one minute, OK? Cool it and just fucking...

Cool it, shut up and fucking listen to me.

This is an old fucking Georgian door. Do you know how long this has been here?

Put your hand there, try to open it. It's a pantry. It's my fucking pantry. Open the fucking door.

Yeah. Don't say bit of skirt, Hugh, makes you sound like Sid James. Minister, good morning.

Morning, morning, morning. What's the story in Bala-fucking-mory?

that's good news for Number Ten, good news for the Treasury and good news for Hugh Abbott.

He is not getting anywhere near my fucking pantry, I'll tell you that.

Hugh, I apologise, entirely my fault. Er, Robyn give me a printout and let me have a look at it.

So Question Time up the swanee... Yeah. What the fuck d'you have to do to get on TV?

Terri. Hi, how's it going? 'He's gone Hugh.' Oh, dear.

I just wanted to take the opportunity of saying I really am sorry that it got awkward with Hugh.

I don't like lying to the minister, I really don't.

No. Oh, fuck!

When this Prime Minister and Imelda fucking Marcos have gone,

You know, if you put Hugh in a room full of people, he just, he just clicks.

Oh, Hugh, grow up. You did nothing.

from the fucking press that every morning at 8.30 I'm being fisted up to the gall bladder by a bald man?

Hugh, who is your top mate in the Commentariat?

Call him up. Hi Colin. Yes, it's Hugh Abbott speaking, how are you?