No, he's useless. He's absolutely useless. He's as useless as a marzipan dildo.

The guy is an epic fuck-up. He’s so dense that light bends around him.

Do you know 90% of household dust is made of dead human skin? That's what you are to me.

Fuck me! This is like a clown running across a minefield!

Are you producing porn for the visually impaired? Because what I'm hearing on my radio is Nicola Murray being roundly fucked.

This is like The Shawshank Redemption, only with more tunnelling through shit and no fucking redemption.

OF the moment! I said OF the moment! There is a huge difference between me saying "Nicola, I'd like to go for a lovely walk with you" and "Nicola, I'm going to make a hat out of your entrails.

You stand right there and DO NOT MOVE! Or I will perform a fucking living fucking autopsy on you with a fucking rusty spade and I'll have your kidneys for cufflinks!

Yeah, yeah. Andy Murray, Andy Pandy, fucking Ghandi have a hand-shandy, whatever, just fuck off out of my life.

I went to Spain. Mallorca. Went golfing with Stephen Hawking; he lied about his handicap. Didn't need a golf cart though, I just sat in his lap.

If you're not a prostitute or a pizza boy, fuck the fuck off.

Philip Schofield, I fuck lobsters for money.

I've come across a lot of psychos in my time, but none as fucking boring as you. I mean you are a really boring fuck. Sorry, sorry, I know you disapprove of swearing. You are a really boring F star star CUNT.

Fuckity bye!

I’d love to stop and chat to you but I’d rather have type 2 diabetes.

You get sarcastic with me again and I will stuff so much cotton wool down your fucking throat it'll come out your arse like the tail on a Playboy bunny.

Excellent. You win a year’s supply of condoms, which in your case is four.

I'm busier than a two-twatted hooker.

Please don't get up; I'm not Viagra.

Laurel and fucking Hardy! Glad you could join us. Did you manage to get that piano up the stairs OK?

Come the fuck in or fuck the fuck off.

Who was it that did your media training, Myra Hindley? I mean it was terrible! All these hands all over the place. You were like a sweaty octopus trying to unhook a bra. It was like watching John Leslie at work

I think we should use the 'carrot and stick' approach. You take a carrot, stick it up his fuckin' arse, followed by the stick, followed by an even bigger, rougher carrot.

Tomorrow, from broadsheets to wank rags, I want pages one, two and three to be a profile of Tom looking like a fucking political colossus. Y'know: Tom meeting the Pope, Tom in an NHS hospital chatting to little, baldie kiddies.

Scruples? Scruples? What are they? Is that those low-fat Kettle Chips?

I’ve got a to-do list here that’s longer than a fucking Leonard Cohen song.

Jesus Christ, see you, you're a fucking omnishambles, that's what you are. You're like that coffee machine, you know: from bean to cup, you fuck up.

Today, you have laid your first big fat egg of solid fuck. You took the data loss media strategy and you ate it with a lump of E. coli. Then you sprayed it out of your arse at 300 miles per hour.

Well, fuck a Pot Noodle. Sam, prepare my horse.

Hugh Abbott: I'm not quite sure what level of reality I'm supposed to be operating on.

Hugh Abbott: I work, I eat, I shower. That's it. Occasionally... I take a dump, just as a sort of treat. I mean, that really is my treat. That's what it's come to. I sit there and I think, 'No, I'm not going to read The New Statesman. This time is just for me. This is quality time just for me.' Is that normal?

Jamie MacDonald: What we are about to have is a secret conversation, and I hope this time you can keep a fucking secret, because normally you're about as secure as a hymen in a South London comprehensive.

Ollie Reeder [to his girlfriend]: It is over, you self-serving, crypto-fascist, horse-loving, posh, weekend at daddy's, vacuous nothing!

Ollie Reeder [about Malcolm] : He likes to think of himself as more of a thin, white Mugabe.

Ollie Reeder : What would you call that? Obsessive Repulsive Disorder?

Terri Coverley: The problem is that if you say to a journalist, 'Can you avoid that topic?' that's when they really go for it. It's like saying to the school bully, 'I'll wet myself if you tickle me.

Terri Coverley: That boy is a simpleton. Two hundred years ago, they wouldn't have let him milk a cow.

Peter Mannion: Sorry darling, I have to go — I think the bailiffs are coming to take away my will to live.

Stewart Pearson: I like the plasmic nature of your data modelling.

Stewart Pearson: Let's imagineer a narrative.

Stewart Pearson: OK, lovely people, let's go truffling in the forest of knowledge!

Stewart Pearson: Ah, Peter, glad we could hook up. Just wanted to take a couple of turns with you on the ideas carousel, yeah? Think of ways we can turn your team into a little cluster of excellence.

Cal "The Fucker" Richards: And while you're there, could you do me another favour, please? Could you find a hostel, go there, and take a fucking overdose of barbiturates?

Fergus Williams [seeing the small audience at his policy launch]: Is that it? It looks like a paedophile's funeral.

Andrew to Terri: One of the many, many things that baffles me about you is that you remain unmurdered.

Nicola: It's cause I'm the girl at the party no one wants to dance with. I'm the freak in the corner with a pint of cider and blackcurrant.

Phil: Oh my God, this is like watching a lion rape a sheep, but in a bad way.