Joe: Herself's over there. Circling the drinks table. Bitter old bat.
Mary: Da...
Joe: It's one glass per head. She has already necked the guts of four bottles.
Mary: Da!
Joe: Though it'll hardly touch the sides. Tolerance of a rhino.
Mary: Stop it, OK? Bridie's still our aunt. She's still Mammy's sister. And if Mammy was alive...
Joe: Your mother couldn't stick her!
Mary: Ssh! She's coming over.