I don't know what to do about him and Victor. I mean, it's one thing to call someone a "tosspot" to their face, but when you go to the lengths of having it iced on the front of a Thornton's Easter egg, I think it's got beyond a joke. I mean, he did put a card in the post as well. No name or address on the envelope, just the word's "To that cretin in the cap." I suppose it helped him let off steam at the time.
[disgustedly] Anything, of any sort or description. In the most hideous and disgusting of combinations. Food you wouldn't put in the same cupboard, he'd happily slice up together on his weetabix. It's like watching non-stop junk mail going through a letter box. I think he lost all sense of taste years ago.
[Sombrely] Well, I'm not sure "thrilled" is the word. Wasn't exactly planned. I know I'm supposed to be all glowing and maternal, but when you look round at the state of things, I don't think life is something I'd wish on my worst enemy. And you never know what you're bringing into the world. I mean, look at the people who started out as babies... Hitler... Dr. Crippen...
Unbelievable! Absolu-...oh, good morning, ladies. (to Margaret) Can you believe that? They've lost the left shoe! Lost it! And do you know what he had the nerve to...? He said he'd only charge me half price!
[to Victor] We went there for our third anniversary. Do you remember? And you took me to that huge funfair place, 'Dreamland'. We were like a couple of excited children.
Mirror image of your life really, isn't it? Car journey on a bank holiday. First fifty-odd miles on the go all the way - a sense of direction - bowling along. Get past sixty, everything slows down to a sudden crawl and you realise you're not going anywhere any more. All the things you thought you were going to do that never came to anything. And you can't turn the clock back. One way traffic just gradually grinding to a complete halt.
