Patsy: [to Antonia] Would you like to follow me into my gracious drawing room?
Antonia: [interviewing Patsy for "Hello!" magazine] Is it a miracle that you are walking again?
Patsy: It is a miracle that I can walk at all... I bless the wonder of life... and the newness of living.
Eddie: I demand to see a doctor!
Nurse: Mr. Simpson will be round in a minute.
Eddie: Mr. Simpson? Mr. Simpson? I want a proper doctor in a white coat who's going to take me seriously. And give me some more painkillers now, all right.
Mr. Simpson: Right, Mrs. um, um...
Mr. Simpson: I'll be operating on your um, um, um...
Mr. Simpson: ...tomorrow morning.
Eddie: Hold my hand, darling. He could be the caretaker for all I know!
Mr. Simpson: We could do this under local. It's not a very serious operation. It's very quick.
Eddie: Local? Local anaesthetic? Are you mad? God, what is this? Eastern Europe?
Mr. Simpson: You wouldn't feel any pain.
Eddie: I won't need to feel it, but I'd be able to see it! I'm not totally lacking in imagination you know. I want total sensory deprivation and back-up drugs, all right!
Saffie: Believe me, she's much happier unconscious!
Patsy: [Patsy's affair with an MP has become front page news on all of the papers] Oh well, heigh ho, Eddy.
[pours some champagne into a glass]
Patsy: I mean, you know, let them write what they want . . .
[starts to read another feature]
Patsy: Continued on page five. I mean, I shall just rise above it. I shan't let this thing affect me in . . . bastard! No! No! No!
Eddie: Who, who? Where, where? What, quick, what? Show, show, show!
[Patsy hands Eddy the newspaper, Edina reads aloud]
Eddie: Source is . . .
Patsy: No, no, no - further.
Eddie: Pasty is . . . uh?
Eddie: Aged forty-seven!
Patsy: Aagh! I'll sue!
Saffie: [to Edina] Well, how old is she?
Patsy: I'm thirty-nine.
Saffie: And I'm an ovum.
Patsy: [tears up newspaper] Oh . . . it's just not fair.
Gran: [Gran enters reading the newspaper headlines] Another pig-ugly MP making a fool of himself with some scrawny old hooker, I see.
Patsy: Old? Old! Old, old, old!
Gran: Nothing like a good old sex scandal. Bit more exciting than the ones in my day.
Eddie: God, what was it in your day? "Woman Shows Ankle To Chimney-Sweep Shock"?
Nurse: [looking at Patsy, who reacts with faux embarrassment] Hello, dear, I thought I recognized you.
Nurse Mary: [as they leave the room Patsy overhears] That's that old slag in the papers last week!
Saffie: Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk!
Eddie: Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk! You're all tutty, darling! When Patsy comes in, I want you to treat her with a little bit of respect, alright?
Patsy: [entering] Click, click, flash, flash. Click, flash, flash, flash, click, click, click. Flash, flash, flash. Guys, guys, just give me a break, darlings! Just give me a break. I have a life to lead! Click, click. "This way, Patsy!". Fellows, fellows, fellows. Sweetie's darlings, can you just leave me alone? Click, click, click, click. Flash, flash, flash, flash. Click, click, click. Patsy, Patsy!
Eddie: You alright, darling? You're not letting this get to you, are you?
Patsy: No, of course not.
Eddie: A little bit of Bolly?
Patsy: Yes, just a smidge.
[looking at newspapers]
Patsy: Oh, are these todays?
Eddie: Yes, sweetie.
Patsy: Anything in them?
Eddie: Not much, darling, no.
Saffie: [reading from the paper] "M.P. in drug-crazed sex romp with shock with fash-mag slag".
Eddie: I know. Well, there is that, thank you very much, sweetie. Well, in fact you're front page on most of them, darling. But it has only been a day, you know.
Patsy: I mean, who could still possibly be interested in reading all this?
Saffie: His wife?
Patsy: Listen, Saffy. I am the victim in this case. I mean, he's just using me for publicity. He's just riding on my back to get his pathetic little face in the papers.
Eddie: Exactly, sweetie! Patsy's had the hassle and trauma. She's been forced to leave her flat, darling.
Saffie: Forced? Even the cockroaches left that whole of their own accord.
Eddie: They are trying to make out, darling, that Patsy is some kind of sex-crazed, morally corrupted, drunken, high-classed, prostitute, darling!
Saffie: Pretty accurate, so far!
Eddie: [reading newspaper headlines about Patsy] Look at this! "Four Letter Patsy In M.P. Sex Row!".
Patsy: "Orgy Of Alcohol And Sex Near M.P.'s House!".
Eddie: Ridiculous! Those bastard scum filth parasites of the press, darling.
Saffie: Well, make up your mind. One minute they're scum, and the next you're giving them lunch and pouring booze down their throats in the great name of P.R.!
Eddie: Booze? Booze, sweetie? Booze, darling? Is that what they call it down the Uni bar? Booze, sweetie? Is it? Will you be popping in there, darling, after a hard day's lecture for some half a pint of shandy-booze? Some pork scracklings? Oh, God. Where was I?
[picks up another paper]
Eddie: "Illicit Passion For M.P.'s Posh Clothes Mag Gal Pal!". Oh, God. "Shocked Wife Of M.P. Keeps Silent!".
Patsy: [picks up another paper] "Queen Furious". That's not you.
Patsy: You know, in my day...
Saffie: Your day? Which century was that?
Patsy: In my day, there was a sense of style about the whole thing, you know. Christine Keeler, Mandy Rice-Davies... Gorgeous little women who kept their mouths shut and just looked gorgeous, and gave the whole thing an air of dignity. You know, that's the way I should play it, Eddie. Not like these penny tarts of recent times. Kiss and tell, blurt it all out, for the promise of a quick buck and instant fame. Not me, sweetie. My lips are sealed.
Saffie: You'll do "Hello!" magazine, though?
Patsy: Ooh, yeah!
Eddie: Might as well do it in the comfort of your own home.
Eddie: Sweetie, darling, could you just stop that minute and come and help me here? Come, unwrap all these things. They're all objets from my shop, darling, so keep the price tags showing. The woman from "Hello!" magazine is here, and I haven't finished decorating the room.
Saffie: Why bother?
Eddie: Because, sweetie, what you can't tell about a person by what they have chosen you to see on their coffee table isn't worth knicker elastic.
[holding up an object]
Eddie: What do you think darling? Look, look, look. What do you think? It's an Eskimo papoose. Huh? Don't look like that, sweetie. Any chance of a quick buck in the Artic, they tip the babies out and ship them down, I tell you.
Sarah: Jed might be around tomorrow night, as he and I sort of... hang out a bit, you know. Catching up on lecture notes and that sort of thing.
Sarah: No, nothing like that. I know what you're thinking.
Eddie: You may be sorely disappointed there.
Sarah: Although, the other night... He did get locked up in our part of the hall.
Eddie: Poor bastard!
Sarah: And he did have to sleep on the floor in my room, but...
Eddie: Only because he couldn't chew through the restraints with his bare teeth, I should think.
Sarah: You see, Jed's really, really lovely...
Eddie: [to Saffron] Could you just shut Titicaca up here for a second?
Antonia: [interviewing Patsy for "Hello!" magazine] And when will the baby be born? Do you hope to have a big family? Of course! How stupid of me. Those questions were transparently for a much younger woman.
Antonia: And you're not Annabelle Croft?
Patsy: No, I'm Patsy Stone.
[thinks about who Patsy is]
Antonia: Oh! Did your life change much after "Basic Instinct"?
Eddie: [on the phone] Yes? Bonjour. Oui. Just put me...
Eddie: Four bloody languages and they can't specialize in one.
[back to the operator]
Eddie: Just put me through to Zermatt! Zermatt!
Saffie: Who are you calling?
Eddie: My Doctor Philip, darling. He's skiing in Switzerland.
[into the phone]
Eddie: Hello? Hello, Philip? Yes, it's Edina... You know that foot of mine, darling? Yeah, I just bashed it on the door-frame. It's very painful. Huh? Huh?... Oh, God!
Eddie: He just hit the grand slalom. I can't hear him from wind noise.
Eddie: Oh, Pats, darling, how did it go?
Patsy: [pointing to sticky face lifts on her face] Do these work?
Eddie: For how old, sweetie?
Patsy: Thirty five.
Eddie: You might need a few more for thirty five, I think, darling.
Patsy: How much more?
Saffie: A bungee jump with the elastic tied to the back of your head should get that back into shape.
Eddie: [on the phone] Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, oh! Operation? Darling. Hospital, yes. Alright, alright, thank you.
Eddie: Did you catch that, darling? I've got to go to hospital.
Patsy: Hospital, Eddie? I'll come with you.
Eddie: Alright, I'm going to have to pack and order the ambulance and everything.
Saffie: Why don't you take your car?
Eddie: Because, sweetie, I do not pay huge insurance premiums, so I can just drive myself to hospital, alright? And not stay overnight, okay? Come on, Pats. Which one shall we go to? Cromwell? Heritage?
Eddie: They've got a pool, don't they?
Nurse: [looking at what Edina is wearing] Mary! Mary, come in here a minute and look at this?
Nurse Mary: Mother of God! What is it?
Nurse: You know, my daughter could get away with wearing something like this?
Eddie: Maybe she'd get away with it, but I doubt very much if she'd be able to afford it!
Nurse: Why, she's only three years old.
Eddie: Well, just furnish us with the appropriate drugs and then leave the room please.
Eddie: [to the Nurses] I want a drip and a little heart-bleep machine, here. Alright? I've seen "Casualty", I know what goes on.
Antonia: Where am I here?
Patsy: In my gracious drawing room.
Antonia: No, I mean where is this? Shepherd's Bush?
Eddie: Holland Park! Holland Park! It's not on the outskirts, either. It's not the edge of Holland Park. This is the rich heartland of Holland Park here. All right, is the photographer here yet?
Antonia: No, we never do photos on the same day. Next week.
Eddie: It's a seventy-foot drawing room with west-facing garden. One point five million.
Catriona: And she believes chairs are as important to civilisation as a masterpiece of something. I wrote it down somewhere. So we could print that up and do some lovely photos.
Nurse: [pointing to Patsy] Face-lift
Mr. Simpson: Oh, it'll be a doggle. Just grab her by the scalp, shaker her up and down a bit and chop off the slack. Tomorrow.
Eddie: [to the Nurse] Oi, you! Bitch-nurse. You just keep me on the threshold of pain. I want some more painkillers. Look. I have two tiny little paraplegics or something in this cup. Over an hour ago! And don't look at me like I'm mad, I know you've got Valium out there.
Magda: Hello, Pats! How are ya? Unlucky business with the M.P. Still the "Hello!" thing should sort that out. I better make this quick I've got a lingerie opening and a feminine wash launch to get to by six, and all this with my working champagne lunch with Anouska bloody Hempel floating about here. This month I want articles about how lovely spending money is. Expensive things, the better cosmetics are great. I want money, money, money. Spend, spend, spend. I don't want to see any more photos of gormless skeletons with no brains, no make-up and no bloody tits.
Patsy: Promoting bored teenagers won't sell a Chanel suit.
Magda: Naw, they're too thin!
Patsy: Too young!
Magda: If the models get any younger, Pats, they'll be chucking foetuses down the catwalk!
Fleur: Couldn't we make a feature: Our Editor.
Catriona: Yes, and then we could use all these lovely photos.
Dream Mother: [to Edina] I was just passing dear. Goodness, you're looking young. You hardly seem to have changed since you were a little girl.
Eddie: Saffy. Sweetie, you wore the La Croix.
Dream Saffron: I will always wear LaCroix from now on when I'm in town, Ma.
Eddie: Never mind, darling.
Eddie: You're not crying, are you, darling?
Patsy: No, sweetie. There's just this little wound under my eye that won't heal. The wound on this side won't heal either. Eddy!