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With James O'Brien.

It's three minutes after 12 before we wade into Mr. Trier. A little nod to my former colleagues over at jove.co.uk, their politics arm has done an astonishing little exercise with Amber Rudd,

in which she reads some of the abuse that she receives on a daily basis.

It's utterly vile.

But I'll retweet that from my account at Mr. James Obie,

so you can have a look at it,

lest you think that sometimes we exaggerate that.

It's the quantity, more than the quality, to be honest with you,

as in the sheer scale, the amount of man-hours that these people must put in

to essentially defecating in their own hands,

clapping and demanding that we watch.

But that's for another day.

We will concern ourselves now with Mitt.

How can it be full?

I didn't even trail it before.

Do you think people are hanging around, waiting for 12 noon,

and not actually hanging on my every Brexit-related syllable?

They're just waiting until I've got it over and done with,

...