David: "If they loved me why are they throwing stuff? Throwing water, plastic bottles, underpants?! One bloke threw a pair of Y-fronts, hit me in the face, and I knew it was Nutella or Marmite he'd smudged on the gusset. But it was still him going 'that's what we think of you mate. You're shit.'." Pete: "Where did he get the Marmite from? He must have prepared that from home 'cos he knew you were on." David: "Well, that doesn't make me feel any better? Why say that?"