JANICE
‘Ah canny go yet, Chrissie … the cake’s no’ even been cut.’
CHRISTINE
‘Well ah’m no’ hidin’ in the bogs aw night. This wis a stupid idea. Her an’ I fell oot big style. Whit’ll ah’ dae if she catches me here?’
JANICE
‘Suppose apologisin’ would be oot the question …’
CHRISTINE
‘Ah’ve nuhin’ tae apologise fur, Jan. It wis aw her dain’. She started it …’
JANICE
‘An if ah’ asked her, she’d say the same? Best pals fae nursery an’ noo look at ye’se. No’ speakin’ because ae a daft argument.’
CHRISTINE
‘Mibbe daft tae you. You’ve no’ got blond hair … ye widnae understand.’
JANICE
‘Whit difference does it make who got the Princess Di feather cut first …? The door opens. Lizzie walks in.
JANICE (gulps)
‘Hi Lizzie. Guid pairty, eh? Ye huvin’ a nice t……’
LIZZIE
‘WHIT THE FUCK IS SHE DAIN’ HERE…!?
CHRISTINE
‘It’s a free country … or it wis last time ah checked.’
LIZZIE
‘It’s no’ a FREE hoose, though … so take yer saggy erse, an’ yer Mr T jewellery collection an’ fuck off!’
JANICE
‘Lassies, lassies … there’s nae need f….’
CHRISTINE
‘It’s a pish pairty, anyway. No’ even a bloody DJ or music til efter nine. If ma Franny hud…’
LIZZIE
‘Hud whit? Lost three stone? He’d still be the size ae Arran!’
CHRISTINE
‘At least ah’ve got a man, ya lezzy…’
LIZZIE
‘Aye, wan that’s auld enough tae be yer faither. Come tae think ae it, ye’se look quite alike…’
CHRISTINE
‘LEZZY…!’
JANICE
‘Right, too far Chrissie…’
LIZZIE
‘Ya skanky HOOR, YE…!’
CHRISTINE
‘There’s only wan hoor in here, and we’re baith lookin’ at it…’
JANICE
‘LIZZIE…! CHRISSIE…! Watch the hair…!’
THE END
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