ELSIE: Beautiful, darling. Takes years off. Never guess I’m ninety-free. Mind you, since losin’ my glarses, I ain’t seen myself for the best part of a decade.

CARLY: Or smelt yourself. [SNIFFS] There’s a vagrant aroma about you, strangely unlike the usual cat’s piss, but with a reassuring ‘int of ammonia an’ fish. Talkin’ o’ which, you want any shopping, Mrs. Van Der Klapp?

ELSIE: There’s a list in my ‘andbag. [POINTING ANYWHERE BUT THE RIGHT DIRECTION] On the sofa there. Next to my drivin’ licence.

[CARLY PUTS DOWN THE MIRROR AND PICKS UP THE HANDBAG OFF THE TOP OF THE TELEVISION. AFTER FUMBLING AROUND, SHE PULLS OUT AN OLD REVOLVER, LOOKS AT IT QUIZZICALLY, THEN TAKES OUT A PIECE OF PAPER AND READS]

CARLY: Eggs? Fought you give ‘em up, after you were poisoned wiv salmonella?

ELSIE: Nah! I don’t eat the fings. Lookin’ at a moody ‘en give me constipation. They’re for my skin, dear. The whites iron out the wrinkles, and the yoke moisturises. Or the uvver way round. It’s them two women off the telly. The bony, anaemic cow with the greasy ‘air, and the one with the face like a rabid pig during the vinegar strokes. They do that programme about how t’keep yusself lookin’ attractive.

[ELSIE STANDS UP WITH SOME DIFFICULTY AND LOOKS AT HERSELF HALF-BENT IN THE WALL MIRROR]

CARLY: My Tony sez people that watch television are no more than a pointless bunch o’ gullible knobheads, ‘oo should all be given a leefal injection. An’ ‘ee should know, ‘ee installs satellite dishes for a living. Why you need so many?

ELSIE: I told you. To make my skin look good [SHE LIGHTS A CIGARETTE AND KEEPS IT PERMANENTLY IN HER MOUTH WHILST TALKING] You get to my age, sweetie, you gotta pay attention to your appearance. [SHE PICKS AT HER HAIR IN THE MIRROR THROUGH THE CLOUDS OF SMOKE. IT HAS ALL THE CONSISTENCY OF A SOFT BLUE MERINGUE MIXTURE, CONTINUALLY CHANGING SHAPE].

CARLY: [READING] Sez ‘ere, firty-four dozen, that’s twelve times, er-….. [CALCULATING IN HER HEAD WITH DIFFICULTY] ..... you’ll be dead by the time they ‘atch.

ELSIE: You’re supposed to separate the whites from the yokes. Fuck it! I just crack ‘em an’ chuck everyfing straight in the barf wimme. Mix it all up wiv the loofah. OK, you get an arseful o’ shell, but I 'ave survived two World Wars… Nodded off during that ‘eatwave the uvver day, nearly woke up as a soufflé. Give the window cleaner a coronary, but I did send ‘iz widow an omelette for the funeral.

CARLY: [READING THE LIST] Lemon juice.

ELSIE: Applied liberally to the eyeballs. As my specialist never stop tellin’ me, “if you keep blinkin’, darlin’, you’re still alive”.

CARLY: Isn’t that carrots?

ELSIE: Nah! You rub the carrots on your muff. Kills all known species of vaginal termite, an’ turns the pubic ‘air a baroque shade of orange. Wiv this perm, and a white asbestos bra, I can stand on my ‘ead, arf-naked on the balcony, and look like the original flag o’ the Netherlands. Makes me feel very patriotic. Did you know, I can trace my family back to the man ‘oo first tested radioactive Gouda on Flemish mice?

CARLY: Don’t you fink you should check wiv your doctor before you do all this stuff?

ELSIE: Iss ‘im that suggest it. [SCEPTICAL, OPEN-ARMED, SHOULDER SHRUG, HEAD TO ONE SIDE]  Some of it may be genuine, and some may be just a placenta. I say doctor, eez one them alternative gynaecologists.

CARLY: The one ‘oo prescribed skunk and diamorphine for your infertility? Last summer.

ELSIE: There’s a lot to recommend ‘im. Tastiest pair o’ buns this side o’ Canary Wharf. Full o’ tips furr ‘ormone replacement ferapy. Eez got me suckin’ moffballs, sniffin’ paraffin, an’ dippin’ my Werther’s Originals in ‘ousehold bleach. By next Christmas, ‘ee reckons I could be pregnant. Or workin’ as a pole-darncer in Amsterdam.

CARLY: I’m not sure you should be sniffin’ paraffin, Mrs. Van Der Klapp. Not when you smoke fifty a day. You certain about this doctor? [PULLS OUT A BOTTLE OF TABLETS FROM THE HANDBAG] These are oestrogen pills. For ‘orses.

ELSIE: I never felt better. Eez very ‘ighly fought of, this chap. Close relative o’ that TV celebrity. Always doin’ ‘iz bit for ‘Elp the Aged.

CARLY: Wayne Rooney?

ELSIE: ‘Arold Shipman. Twenny years I bin seein’ him, sez ‘ee can’t believe I’m still alive. Ninety-four on Sunday.

CARLY: You doin’ anyfin’ special f’your birfday?

ELSIE: I fancied paintballing, with the girls from the bridge club, on the M6. But, as a special treat, ‘ee insists on takin’ us all bungee-jumpin’, down Beachy ‘ead. [LIFTING A CUP AND SAUCER, AND OFFERING CARLY A TEA] You ever tried Earl Grey with creosote?