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?!
Saffie: Where’s Patsy?
Edina: She went into the shop with all the dried-up things.
Saffie: Well, she should feel at home, then.
Eddie: Surgery, sweetie. Lipo, on the hands and stomach, bum lift, tit lift, lose a rib and see what happens with my lips!
Edina: Would you like a bit of Bollie, sweetie?
Patsy: Just a smidge.
Edina: You only work in a shop, you know. You can drop the attitude.
Saffie (scream): Oooh! Mum, that man pinched me!!
Patsy: Darling, don’t worry. He was obviously very old and completely blind.
Eddie: I am civilized to my platform toes.
Edina: I like these here…these shoes. And the televisions…I like this. And I also want one of those blood-heads, you know, those frozen blood-heads filled with blood. Anything that’s in the Saatchi collection, I want things like that, alright. I also want….everything. Alright? Everything. It all looks like bollocks, so it must be worth something.
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.