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?
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.
Eddie: I suppose I could just go through the motions, wouldn’t you like that Justin? It would be-
Eddie and Justin (in chorus): ‘just like our marriage’.
Patsy (through loud industrial music, fog and lights): You want some ecstacy, Eddie?
Edina: Are you mad, darling? No one is taking that any more. I mean, people are being dragged from raves bleeding from every orifice.
Patsy: No, but…this isn’t a Rave, it’s a Happening.
Edina: Don’t force me to take it, Pats. I promised Saffie that I wouldn’t, darling.
Patsy: Yeah…but she’ll never find out. Anyway, she doesn’t scare me!
Saffie: (throwing open Edina’s bedroom door) Mom! KEEP the noise down!
Eddie: The 70’s are back!
Grans: Oh, does that mean you’ll be voting into labour again?
Saffie: A bit early for her, isn’t it?
Eddie: Well, darling, she’s been low recently.
Saffie: Low? She’d get vertigo in a sewer.
Edina: Oh, get that look off your face. I’ve got enough stuff in here you can borrow.
Saffie: I’d rather wear a yashmak.
Edina: That can be arranged.
Patsy: Eddie…what are you wearing?
Eddie: It’s a La Croix Sweetie!
Patsy: It’s fabulous!
Edina: Bubble, what do you do darling?
Bubble: I don’t know. Get Paid.
Eddie: Sweetie, we dragged these people screaming into the 20th Century. We gave them all the mod-cons, darling. We gave them the non-squat toilet… toilet tissue, darling. I mean, how do you think they used to wipe their bottoms before we came along?
Patsy: Old bits of hoof.
Patsy: Oh, God. Thank bloody Christ for that!
Edina: No no, I’m not drinking, I’m not bloody drinking.
Patsy: What shall you drink then?
Edina: I shall drink water….it’s a mixer Patsy, we have it with whiskey.
Edina: When we first came here, it was so beautiful. It was just like a little…a little tiny little oasis, darling, here.
Patsy: Yeah…with like a town.
Humphrey: And with quite a number of quite decent five-star international hotels…and a jaccuzi.
Patsy: Yeah…and an airport.
Edina: Yeah alright, alright, alright. I was just trying to be poetic.
Patsy: Oh, hurrah, hurrah, bloody buggery hurray.
Edina: Saffy, look at Mummie, look at me. Do I need surgery?
Saffy: Yes, have your mouth sewn up.
Saffie: I’m studying the indigenous people of that particular region of North Africa for my Anthroplology module in college this term… it would be really great to be able to go there and study.
Edina: Study?!? You don’t go to Marrakech to study, darling.
Patsy: No you don’t!
Edina: There are a lot of reasons to go to Marrakech, and studying is NOT one of them, sweetie. I mean you go to Marrakech…you go for, I don’t know… drugs, dirt cheap bits and rugs…
Patsy: Yeah…easy-going sex with gorgeous under-age youths…
Edina: Yeah! Sex changes, wasn’t it…Pats? …Well, not now, anyway. Not now. Still, darling, you don’t go there to study some ingenuous peasants for an anthology molecule.
Patsy: One snap of my fingers and I can raise hemlines so high the world’s your gynecologist.
Jackie (Patsy’s sister): Our mother was like a sprinkler scattering bastard babies to the four corners of the earth.
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?!