Nurse: Oh there you go again – mistaking me for someone who gives a damn! Who cares if you’re fat or thin…who cares if you live or die?!

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Edina (showing off her art collection): This is a …sort of…corpse…in an open, oaken, oblong coffin…with a silk lining….It’s a dead body, Pats.
Patsy: Yeah, but is it art, Eddie?
Edina: No, sweetie, it’s my father.
Patsy: Are you sure?!?
Edina: …I think so. I’ve never seen him in a suit before.

Saffie: Well, make up your minds. One minute they’re scum and the next minute you’re giving them lunch and pouring booze down their throats in the great name of PR.
Edina: Booze?? Booze, darling? Is that what they’re calling it down at the Uni bar – Booze, sweetie, is it? Will you be popping in there after a hard day’s lecture for some “Half a pint of shandy booze“? And some pork scracklings?

Eddie: Inside of me there is a thin person screaming to get out.
June: Just the one, dear?

Patsy: Well…you know the other day when you said you might die?
Edina: Yeah, well I might not be now…I’m looking into it.

Patsy: Ah, well. Let them write what they want. I shall just rise above it, I shan’t let this thing….affect me…(stares hard at newspaper) Bastard! No! No! No!
Edina: What, sweetie, what? (looking at paper) “Close sources say…”
Patsy: No, further down…
Edina (reading): …”that Patsy is (gasp)…Fourty-Seven?!?”
Patsy (wailing): Aaaaaggh!! I’ll SUE!
Saffie: Well, how old is she?
Patsy: I’m Thirty-Nine!
Saffie: And I’m an ovum.