Mrs Vyvyan: Hello, Vyvyan!Vyvyan: Piss off!Mrs Vyvyan: That's no way to talk to your mother, Vyvyan!Vyvyan: Alright then... piss off, Mum!Mrs Vyvyan: That's better.Vyvyan: What d'you want?Mrs Vyvyan: Well, what're Mums for?Vyvyan: I dunno, having babies?Mrs Vyvyan:(twisting the crotch of his jeans) Don't be so sexist, Vyvyan!Vyvyan: (gasps in pain) I'm sorry, Mum!Mrs Vyvyan: No, I heard you was ill so I bought you a present.Vyvyan: The last present you gave me was a box of matches.Mrs Vyvyan: That was a joke.Vyvyan: I was only eight weeks old... well, what've you bought me this time?Mrs Vyvyan: A bottle of vodka.Vyvyan: (smiles) Oh, brilliant! Thanks, Mum! (tips the bottle and nothing comes out.) This is empty.Mrs Vyvyan: Ha! Ha! Up yours, ugly!
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