Mary: Well, that's that done.
Joe: God rest his wee soul.
Sarah: Don't talk to me. I was in bits las tonight. Didn't even manage my Chinese. Poor Tonto.
Erin: Toto. His name was Toto, Aunt Sarah.
Sarah: Aye. Nightmare, so it is. Dad, do us a bacon butty, would you? My stomach thinks my throat's cut here.
Joe: Sure, love.

Mary: Let's just salvage what we can.
Sarah: There's only a couple of snowballs left, Mary. It's been an absolute free-for-all.
Mary: Your mothers will be hearing about this.
Michelle: Aw, for...
Sarah: What got into you, girls? You know you don't touch the Christmas cupboard.

Erin: We're stressed! Our new English teacher made us rip up all our poems and re-do them in one night.
Joe: Who is this blow-in?
Michelle: Here name's Ms. De Brún. She's a bit of a bitch, but, cracking eyeliner.
Sarah: Winged or smudged?
Michelle: Sort of both.
Sarah: Interesting.

James: I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Quinn, but...
Sarah: Ach, Cathy, it's yourself.
Cathy Maguire: Long time, girls.
Mary: It is indeed.
Sarah: And fair play to you, Cathy, you've kept them eyebrows shipshape, so you have. Credit where credit's due.
Cathy Maguire: Ach, you're too kind, Sarah.
Sarah: I'm serious. They're in great nick. That must be some comfort to you.

Sarah: You should get that one framed as a wee reminder of your night, Mary.
Mary: I'm not in that one.
Sarah: I know, but it's stunning of me.
Ciaran: It is indeed.
Joe: Hey, boy. It's dinner she invited you round for, not an orgy.

Joe: Right, I'll just grab my beads. Be back in a minute. Just make yourself comfortable.
Sarah: You'll not have to ask Maeve twice.
Maeve: Sorry, love, did you say something?
Mary: Gerry's name is on the house, not my da's, if that's what you were thinking.
Maeve: If what's what I'm thinking?
Gerry: Hobnob? Custard cream? Wagon Wheel?
Sarah: What age are you, Maeve? Like, 30?
Maeve: I'm 62.
Sarah: Sugar daddy you're after, is it?
Mary: I just want to let you know, Maeve, we'll never call you Mammy.
Maeve: OK.
Sarah: And I just want to say, although I'm not happy about this thing with me da, I have to give it to you. That is a cracker blow dry. Great volume, lovely movement.

Sarah: Orla has got really into step aerobics. Her instructor says she's a natural. Says she's got what it
takes to go all the way.
Mary: All the way in step aerobics?
Sarah: But it's out of control now, Mary. She's stepping morning, noon and night. Apart from anything else, it's dangerous. She nearly came through the ceiling yesterday. OK, she might be gifted, but I just want her to have a normal childhood.
Orla: I won't give it up. I can't.
Sarah: Listen to yourself, love.

Orla: God, Mammy. You're up early.
Sarah: So are you. You should be having a lie-in, love. You're on your holidays.
Mary: First day of term, Sarah.
Sarah: Is it, aye?
Mary: It is, aye.

Aunt Sarah: How's rehearsals going, girls?
Michelle: Um, I think mine might be a wee bit frozen.
Aunt Sarah: It's called "al dente", Michelle.
Michelle: Oh. Right.

Orla: All right, Mammy?
Sarah: All right, love. Did you ask about the trust fund?
Orla: I don't have one.
Sarah: I take it that means I don't have one.
Mary: For the love of God!
Sarah: Will four bags be enough?
Gerry: More than enough.
Sarah: I'd say we need five to be safe. Do you not think, Dad?
Joe: Stick down five.
Gerry: Five bags of chips, then!