Absolutely Fabulous (1992–2012)
Eddie: Mother, are you still on the computer?
Gran: Yes, dear. Sometimes you get into a porn loop and just can't get out.
[Saffron is living "on campus" and Eddy tells her she wants her to move back home]
Saffie: Mum, what is the problem? I have my life and you have yours. This is what you wanted.
Eddie: I feel orphaned, you know.
Saffie: What is the matter? Has the deal fallen through?
Eddie: No the deal. Not the deal. Not that. It's just...
Eddie: Well, darling, you have just sort of abandoned me in this sort of wilderness of potential greatness and fabulousness, haven't you? All my walls have gone "flop", "flop"... I'm just like this kind of prisoner that's released... RELEASED PRISONER, darling, that is walking out into the squinting sun. I mean, you've cast me adrift with no oars.
Saffie: You have oars.
Eddie: I haven't.
Saffie: You have. You're just too lazy and fat to use them.
Eddie: All right, time for another little drinkie before we go?
Saffie: Where are you going?
Eddie: New York.
Saffie: I didn't think they let people with convictions in.
Eddie: Darling, its not a conviction.
Patsy: Just a firm belief.
Eddie: What do you think of the kitchen, Pats?
Patsy: I think it's fabulous.
Saffie: It isn't done yet.
Eddie: No, sweetie. Maybe she's right. Maybe this IS fabulous.
Eddie: [in front of Saffy] Ooo, she's so cold, sweetie! I'll just bet she has her period in cubes.
Eddie: But darling, that dress was awful! How did you manage to get her to wear it?
Patsy: Oh, I just told her a cock-and-bull story about how I was a slave to my mother in her dying years and how I always strived to make her like me and she never loved me at all, ha!
[reflects for a second]
Eddie: But Pats, sweetie... That is all *true*. Your mother never loved you at all.
Eddie: Where's my thing? You know, my thing... my vibrating thing...
Patsy: Right by your bedside drawer, darling.
Eddie: Not THAT, not THAT!... My beeper, my beeper!
[fishes inside her skirt]
Eddie: [disgusted] Keep it. I don't want it now. Don't WANT it now.
Eddie: [to Saffy] Oh, darling, Mummy loves you. On the day you were born I *knew* I wanted you...
Patsy: However, the day after...
Eddie: Is champas all right with you Pats?
Patsy: Lovely darling.
Eddie: Should we finish off the beluga or should we have some smoked salmon nibbly things?
Patsy: Oh whatever sweetie.
Eddie: All right, we'll finish off the beluga.
Eddie: [shouting] I DON'T WANT MORE CHOICE, I JUST WANT NICER THINGS .
Eddie: I want total sensory deprivation and back-up drugs.
[on the significance of awards]
Eddie: They don't matter, do they, darling?... Awards, Pats?
Patsy: Oh, Eddy. We've been here before.
Eddie: It's just... you know... I WANT one. I don't just want one, darling, I NEED one. My career is on a toboggan run of failure at the moment... I just need one. It's the only thing that seems to mean ANYthing these days... I need one now before the menopause drags me into her gaping jaws. Before my creative hormonal oil-well dribbles to a halt. Before my bottom becomes just a patch-work quilt of monkey glands, darling.
Saffie: But, Mom, menopause can be a very exhilarating and positive experience for a woman.
Eddie: Oooh, yes. And the curse is a blessing and childbirth is painless. No. Unless that gaping hole on my mantle piece is filled pretty soon, darling, I might as well... I might as well lick this light-switch and do us all a favour, darling...
[to daughter Saffron]
Eddie: With any luck we'd get Roman Polanski interested in you.
Patsy: She was never young enough for him.
Patsy: Take a holiday, darling. South of France.
Magda: I don't do holidays. Everybody's a nobody in a bikini.
Eddie: What do you see when you look in the mirror, darling?
Patsy: Me looking fabulous. What do you see?
Eddie: Yeah... Just the room.
Eddie: The word on the old grave marker, the words on your grave marker. What is that?
Patsy: Oh, your epitomb.
Eddie: Your epitomb. What is that you want on your epitomb?
Patsy: I want: "She was fantastic."..."Patsy was here."
Eddie: No, daring, you can just have "Patsy Stone".
Patsy: Oh, Eddy, Eddy. Wait for this. Wait for this: "Eddy: Still no thinner."
Eddie: These are really funny. We could sell those.
Saffie: My life just flashed before my eyes.
Eddie: What was it like? A Bergman film without the jokes?
Patsy: [about Edina's cell phone ringing] Oh, Eddie... is it... Is it a bee?
Saffie: I didn't know you still had the shop.
Eddie: Oh, still got it, darling, but it's not doing very well. The supply's dropped off. You know... India's: had it, been there... Africa's dried up completely now... It's ridiculous... Thank God for Grozny. Honestly. Well, darling, if it wasn't for that lovely little Russian army advancing, thrashing out all those gorgeous little heirlooms in my direction, I don't know what I'd do... Oh, you should see, darling, in the shop I've got at the moment this fabulous little samovar with a little old woman still attached to it, sweetie. Clinging on for dear life. Having to lure her off with dry bread crumbs so that I could get a decent price...
Bubble: Ooo... Bear with me, see, I am HOPELESS with names, faces and people.
Eddie: Look at me Sweetheart, huh, huh? One day you'll turn into me!
Gran: [sweetly] And you will turn into me, dear.
[Edina has lost her speech which she has to present to the PR meeting]
Eddie: Yeah I was gonna' make a-
Eddie: Testing. Testing. -Yeah I was gonna' make a speech, but I just can't be bothered anymore. I mean, this used to be like fun you know; yeah it used to be fun, but I'm getting bored of all the 'fun' bits now. You know, your endless bloody lunches and launches, you know, no-career celebrities and party desperates. And what for, huh? Some colony of crap tags and mags! Well I'm sorry there has to be a little more than that doesn't there?
[slams her handbag down]
Eddie: Hmmm? You know I had a speech, you know, my... my integrated-projected-global-tele-network system bloody system-system. But you know, if that's what the worlds coming to I don't want to be in it. No I don't want that. I don't want to be in some sort of cyber-space-hypervirtual bloody reality. I don't want that- exchanging e-mails with some old age bloody hippies with more information at their fingertips than is safe to know about. I don't want that! What kind of reality is that, huh, you know, with a thirteen-amp plug on the end of it? Huh? Huh?... That can be un-plugged like that? Come-on I'm going.
[She turns to leave, but... ]
Eddie: No I'm not going yet! No, you!
[points to her competition, Claudia Bing]
Eddie: You, you, just sit there like your velcroed to some bloody add-man! You know those crap-head add-men over there, you know, those kings of bastardization that have just taken everything that was ever real and genuine and honest and original and attached it to a toilet cleaner! Whereas I, I... Like a bird on a wire... Like a drunk in a midnight choir... I have tried in my way to be free.
[Then she sings]
Eddie: Like a bird, on a wire.
Patsy: Go for it Eddy.
Eddie: [singing] ... Like a drunk in a midnight choir. I have tried in my way to be free.
[Claudia Bing and her colleagues are laughing]
Eddie: Yeah you can laugh, but you know something- I don't want more choice I just want nicer things! And you, you can take that look off your face, sitting there with your... with your wheels and AIDS and starvation. You know, skimming a neat profit of the whole of human misery. Labeling us all with this- with this global guilt. Well it may not be all great and good but it ain't that bad, so cheer up world it may never bloody happen!
[slams her bag down again]
Eddie: Come on I'm going.
[Edina walks off making rude farting sounds at everyone in the room]
Saffie: I'm sorry, mum, but I've never seen what it is that you actually do.
Saffie: Yes, but...
Eddie: PR. I PR things. People. Places. Concepts...
Eddie: Lulu... I make the fabulous... I make the crap into credible. I make the dull into...
[Eddy comes into the kitchen to find her mother making a cake]
Eddie: What? This is all my stuff you're using?
Gran: What, dear?
Eddie: All this. This wheat powder... what's... This.
Gran: Flour, dear?
Eddie: Flour. Yes. All this is mine, is it? I mean, I am now paying for old people to eat cake.
Eddie: Pats. Pats. You know, like, when you are in a room or something, and you think someone is like staring at you...
Patsy: In a room?
Eddie: Or in a plane. Anywhere... anywhere... And you are sort of doing things because you think someone is looking at you like people are looking at you, you know?
Patsy: On a plane?
Eddie: Well, anywhere... anywhere... And then you look at them and they are just sort of asleep but their head is flopped in your direction, you know? Well, I don't want THAT to happen. I don't want THAT to be my life, you know. The whole world asleep.
Sarah: Does your mother know you write plays and things?
Saffie: No, and I don't want her to either, so don't say anything.
Sarah: Oh, you don't need to worry. I don't speak to her anymore. Not since she gave me that chemical peel.
Saffie: Well, it wasn't so much chemical. And not so much peel. She set fire to your pig-tails.
Sarah: It's good job I'm thick-skinned... Well, except for the shoulder.
Eddie: Had two husbands, one was too short one was gay. Still sweetie if you want to know how to peck a dwarf on the cheek as he's walking out of the house to the disco in your dress , then I'm your girl.
Patsy: I thought a little mosey down Bond Street, a little sniff around Gucci, sidle up to Ralph Lauren, pass through Browns and on to Quags for a light lunch.
Eddie: I did tell you the facts of life didn't I sweetie?
Saffie: If you mean that time you sat on my bed and shook me awake at two in the morning, stoned out of your brain, and slurred into my ear 'By the way sweetie, people have it off,' then yes, you told me the facts of life.
Patsy: They want you filleted and splayed on the butcher's block so they can photograph all your organs for "Heat" magazine.
Eddie: Family? Family? God, I hope you're not inviting that bloody, bollocky, selfish, two-faced, chicken, bastard, pig-dog man are you?
Bubble: I turned on the, ah, watchamacallit this morning. I want to say telephone. No, that's not right. You look at it.
Bubble: That's it.
Patsy: One whiff of a cocoa bean and our customers would fly like vampires before garlic. Jeremy's must remain a sterile oasis, free from street eaters and coffee carriers. Aseptic and razor-sharp as our customers hipbones. These women shop for lunch! labels are their only sustenance! Their skeleton legs in Manolos have worn trenches down the pavement of Sloane Street. Their arm sinews have just enough muscles left in their arm to lift up a credit card.
Saffie: [commenting on Patsy's new Botox look] You look like a haggis with pointed toes. A tight old bladder skin holding together some rotting offal.
Eddie: I thought I told you to buy a laptop.
Bubble: A lap... top? Top?
[opens her bag and reveals a small lap dog]
Eddie: Get rid of it.
Bubble: Oh! But I've grown so fond! And it's SO cute. And... it's not just for life! It's for Christmas!
Gran: Talking to yourself dear? That's the first sign of madness, you know.
Eddie: Really? I thought it was talking to you.
Bubble: Black matter is dragging us all towards eternal dalmatian... And before long we will all be cloned and turned into sheep. So, to avoid this fate, I am being picked up by a spaceship that is hidden in the tail of an approaching comet.
Bubble: That'll be them buzzing now.