Edina: Hold your nose, darling. Meat.
Edina: Gin and tonic, sweetie?
Patsy: Ooh, gin and tonic!
(Eddie is arrested for stealing a case of wine)
Patsy: My name is Patsy Stone and I am an alcoholic, and what she did was an act of humanitarian mercy.
Sandra, the Yankee psychiatrist: Hi…you really interest me. I’d really like to talk to you. Now don’t worry – I’m a therapist. I’m Gestalt.
Patsy: And I’m Ga-Going.
Edina: Saffie, I’m outta here. I’m going to go change and have lunch with Pats, alright?
Sandra: You really are very aggressive to her. Do you perhaps feel that you blame and hold your daughter responsible for your aging…for your loss of looks?
Edina (rolls eyes): Noooo…what’s your excuse?!?
Edina: Oooh, sweetie…darling…oh god, sweetie what a day, what a day I’ve had sweetie, darling. (throws herself down on kitchen table) I have been at work since I left here this morning!
Saffie: You want some lunch?
Edina: How dare they spit at me! A nation that has a pillowcase with a slit in it as a national costume.
Bubble: I shall endeavor to transcribe it on my pad, photocopy it and file it for future reference.
Patsy: You know, I sometimes wonder what the point of having children is if they are not going to turn up for your launches. Did you tell him how important for you it was, darling?
Eddie: Yeah, I tell him. I faxed the bloody dean and the bullocky halls of residence and the buggery mountain rescue. I mean, what more can I do?
Patsy: Nothing. And you shouldn’t have to. I mean, look at you. You’ve been a fantastic mother. You’ve let them ruin your figure. Your stomach is stretched beyond recognition, you’ve got tits down to your knees and what for, for God’s sake?
Edina: Look at that…what do you think that is there?
Saffie: It’s a sticker with a green tree on it.
Saffie: What does that mean?
Edina: ‘Kind To Trees’, sweetie.
Saffie: How are they kind to trees?
Edina: Well they ain’t made of wood, how kind do you want?
Edina: I don’t know. I just…I somehow…I just don’t think you should have sold Saffie like that.
Patsy: …Well, darling, she said she wanted to see how the real people lived.
Edina: I don’t think the White Slave Trade is quite what she had in mind. But it’s not as if she enjoyed a normal life anyway, really.
Patsy (enthusiastic): No! It might just bring something out in her!
Edina: …She might just live in…painful solitude for the rest of her life…
Patsy: Well, I mean, nothing is certain. Not for any of us. Cheers, Eddie!
Eddie: Why, oh why do we pay taxes, huh? Just so we can have bloody parking restrictions, and bloody ugly traffic wardens, and bollocky pedestrian bloody crossings! Why not just have a “Stupidity Tax?” Just tax the stupid people!
Edina: God, it’s a rather depressing thought, isn’t it, that you might live on after me. Hmmm…You? Is that how I’m going to be remembered, is it…what, through you?!
Saffie: Well, what do you want – a statue?
Saffie (Screaming): A great big, fat, ugly, armless statue??
Edina (agast): I’ve got arms. (flails arms around) I’ve got arms!!
Edina: Just do whatever you want.
Edina: But as your mother, I cannot be held responsible for your well-being.
Saffie: Ow! She burned me with her cigarette!
Patsy: The last mosquito that bit me had to book in to the Betty Ford clinic.
Edina: No, no..no grave for me, sweetie. I’m a Buddhist anyway. I want to be lain out on a rock in the middle of the Ganges, darling, and then just pecked by birds. I don’t want to end up as some drugged-up zombie in a hospital, alright?
Saffie: I thought that would appeal to you…
Photographer: I have to arrange catering for a movie that is shooting here.
Edina: What movie?
Photographer: ‘Life Of Jesus Christ: II’.
Edina: Oh – who is Jesus these days?
Photographer: Err…Charles Dance.
Patsy: She was so anally retentive she couldn’t sit down for fear of sucking up the furniture.
Patsy: Well, what am I supposed to do if you die?
Edina: Get cabs!
Edina: Why is it that in the hottest countries in the world, they put their children in little woolly jumpers. You’d think Gap would have spotted the hole in the market…I mean, the whole population here is just crying out for good quality, reasonably priced Kid’s Casuals!
Patsy: Oh, shut up Eddie.
Eddie: I mean I was just trying to live my bloody life… you know, get from A to B and do a little shopping!….only to find, that in fact, life is controlled for me, by bits of bloody bloody buggery bits of paper! I mean, why can’t life just be a little bit easier for everybody, you know?
Edina: God, I hope you’re not inviting that bloody, bullocky, selfish, two-faced, chicken bastard, pig-dog man, are you?
Saffie: You could just say ‘Dad’.
Patsy: I really need a loo.
Edina: You’re so inhibited now…just go at the side of the bloody road, darling. I mean, the gutter’s alright for you in London, isn’t it? I mean, you’d go in a gutter at rush hour traffic in front of a whole party of your friends, but now you’re not going to dig a hole and just go here, now.
Eddie: The more I love myself, the more I will be loved.
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?