We start a shit fight, we throw so much shit back at them

that they can't pick up shit, they can't throw shit, they can't do shit.

Litter? Dog shit? Aiming high(!)

We aimed high and now we're at dog shit. So, what you're...

Hugh's predecessor, they're as tight as arse-cheeks. Are they now?

Well, fuck knows, but that's what we're saying, OK?

Hughie Abbot, the in-touch guy, you're on the ball,

You've got absolutely no fucking idea what I'm talking about, do you?

Hugh, what is a chav? A chav, you must know what a chav...

This is important stuff, Hugh.

Right, we do a weekly digest for the Prime Minister,

then I'll go and tell people that the apples, they're shit, Olly.

Hugh, if we are going to spend tax payers' money

into productions of The fucking Cherry Orchard,

It's a song, Hugh. Yeah, I know.

It is as my mother would have said, "Double wank and shit shifts."

But do you think it's got legs, Hugh?

She's shit. I wouldn't go that far.

She's a box-ticker Hugh, she can't think outside the box.

What the fuck are you playing at, Hugh?

Are you playing at being a Minister,

or are you actually a real life fucking Minister?

I'm a real life Minister.

I've never seen headlines like it. In what way? It's all gone to shite.

They fucking loathe it. Are you getting all this, Hugh?

I'm plugged into the matrix, I am the fucking matrix.

Get a press release in the oven, fuck off the lot of you.

And Hugh, watch that tape...

I enjoy domestic violence and sun dried fucking Karaoke.

it's sort of inspired by your latest policy disaster.

Fuck off back to your match reports, you twat.

Hello. Hugh, it's Terri. Yeah, hello.

Yes, snuggle up, bye-bye. Night, Hugh.

How fucked am I?

In terms of negative publicity, on the fuckometer, where am I?