Edina
Panic Attack! Panic Attack!

Edina
What is that on the toast?
Saffron
It's honey, Mother.
Edina
Oh, my god ... Oh, my god. Honey! That's not honey. Sweetie, that's my bloody royal jelly moisturizer. You are eating £300-worth of royal jelly that has been hand-squished from a bee's backside. And not just any old bee, but the bloody Gucci of bees.

Saffron
Flattery won't turn me into your servant. The coffee is on the table in front of you .... Pick up a spoon .... Put coffee in cup ... Pour on boiling water.
Edina
Scald hand .... Third-degree burns....Screaming in agony. Do you really want that on your conscience, darling?

Edina
Chanting as we speak.

Saffron
Mum, you've absolved yourself of responsibility. You live from self-induced crisis to self-induced crisis. Somebody chooses what you wear. Someone does your brain. Someone tells you what to eat, and, three times a week, someone sticks a hose up your bum and flushes it all out of you.
Edina
It's called colonic irrigation, darling, and it's not to be sniffed at.
Saffron
Why can't you just go to the toilet like normal people?
Edina
Is that what you really want me to be? Normal? Some boring, normal, old toilet-goer? ‘Where's mummy?’ ‘She's on the toilet.’ ‘But I want to go somewhere exciting and meet interesting people.’ ‘She can't take you ... she's on the toilet.’

Series One

Series Two