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?!
Eddie: Surgery, sweetie. Lipo, on the hands and stomach, bum lift, tit lift, lose a rib and see what happens with my lips!
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!
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.
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.
Edina: You only work in a shop, you know. You can drop the attitude.
Eddie: I am civilized to my platform toes.
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.
Edina: Bubble, what do you do darling?
Bubble: I don’t know. Get Paid.
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.
Edina: Hold your nose, darling. Meat.
(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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
Bubble: I shall endeavor to transcribe it on my pad, photocopy it and file it for future reference.
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.
Edina: Saffy, look at Mummie, look at me. Do I need surgery?
Saffy: Yes, have your mouth sewn up.
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?
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?
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!
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.
Jackie (Patsy’s sister): Our mother was like a sprinkler scattering bastard babies to the four corners of the earth.
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.