Patsy is thrilled when she is given the chance to host her own talk show. However, when she fails to find any worthy A-listers to interview, she is forced to take drastic action…

Please tell me what you think, I've never really tried comedy before; big fan of Abs Fabs, though! Further parts coming soon. :-)

Eddie was sitting alone in the kitchen. She was wearing pink, fluffy-looking earphones, and seemed to be mouthing in an eccentric way the lyrics of a song. She had a cigarette in her left hand, which she would drag from clumsily and quickly every time the words blaring into her ears stopped and the music prevailed. Unable to control herself, she soon began to bowl around the kitchen counter, her head banging to the beat of the song, her brown, frizzy hair flicking from side to side.

Patsy then appeared hurrying down the kitchen stairs. She had an unnerving gleam in her eyes, as if she were very excited about something, and didn't seem to care in the slightest that Eddie was now punching thin air in the living area.

"Eddie!" she cried in an emotional voice. Eddie didn't seem to hear her, and carried on with her musical workout. Patsy pulled the earphones from her friend's head and tossed them behind her.

"Tut, I was on a role there, darling," Eddie said, sounding irritated.

"Well what were you listening to?" Patsy asked.

"I think it was Mozart or something, I dunno," replied Eddie, gesturing with her hands flamboyantly before taking another drag from her cigarette.

"Well never mind that babe, I have big news!" Patsy said.

"Well what kind of big news, darling? You didn't get your stomach pumped again, did you?" Eddie asked, sounding intrigued yet unconcerned. She blew out a puff of smoke.

"I'm not sure we can really count that as big news anymore, sweetie," Patsy said, shaking her head. "I think the doctors are finding my arrival at 4am a little commonplace, you know?"

"Maybe if you died, then?" Eddie said, nodding. Patsy nodded in agreement, grinned, and took a cigarette from inside her handbag.

"This is news beyond that, Eddie. I, Patsy Stone, am getting my own talk show," Patsy said grandly, placing a bony hand against her chest. "It's going to be simply fabulous, darling; me, fashion guru and stylist, getting the dirt from some of the world's most elegant A-listers! I'll be on every billboard in London, Eddie, in every advertisement seen on the London Underground, on the front cover of every celebrity magazine!"

"That is fabulous, darling," Eddie agreed. "How'd you manage that, then? You're not exactly sought after, are you darling? Not at your –" She broke off.

"At my what, Eddie?" Patsy demanded, her eyes sharp and wide. She lit her cigarette with concrete conviction.

"Doesn't matter Pats," Eddie said, smiling, after a short pause. She shuffled over to the kitchen. "Fancy a drink to celebrate, darling? Bottle of bubbly or somethin'?"

"That would be lovely, cheers Eds," Patsy said, forgetting what Eddie had almost let slip. She dumped her handbag onto the sofa and migrated into the kitchen, too. "This is going to be a big break for me, you know. I've always wanted to be able to insult people I dislike intensely and get away with it."

"You can just do that here with Saffy, darling, nobody would mind," Eddie said. She did not seem to care that she was talking about her own daughter, and busied herself pulling a bottle of champagne out of the fridge and finding two glasses.

"Yeah but I don't get paid for that," Patsy said wryly.

"I'd pay you if it made you happy, darling," Eddie said, jigging slightly as she laid the glasses on the table and poured the champagne.

"Yeah well, I've got the talk show now, I'll get my kicks that way," said Patsy. She took a long drag from her cigarette, then sipped the champagne. "My producer says we can start filming as soon as I've found some celebrities to interview."

"Surely that's not your job though, darling? You leave that to the little people who work behind the scenes, you know, the dwarves and the elves and Bubble, darling! You wanna have words with your producer, sweetheart, make him do the labourin'," Eddie said.

"It's a her, actually," Patsy said, smoking again, "and she's a little bitch, let me tell you; maybe even worse than that troll daughter of yours."

"Well what's wrong with her?" Eddie asked.

"She doesn't respect me, Eddie," Patsy said in a dignified voice. "If I'm going to work in this field I need to find a producer who looks me up and down and sees a serious person, you know?" She flicked some ash from her cigarette into the champagne, then sipped it nonchalantly. "It's about mutual respect, Eds. I am a serious person, therefore I deserve one half of that respect."

"Totally serious, darling," Eddie said, half-smiling, half-wincing at what Patsy had just done. "Have you found any celebs yet? I could hook you up with Lulu if you wanted, Pats, she'd do it at the right price."

"I think I'm looking a bit further afield, Eddie," Patsy replied. "The Paul McCartneys, the Princess Dis, that sort of thing. I'll wring 'em all dry, babe, they won't be able to speak by the time I'm finished with them."

Eddie scowled before she spoke. "Well good luck with that, darling," she said shortly, nodding her head.

"Mum?" came a voice from the top of the stairs.

Patsy glared at the stairs, her smile twisting into a bitter frown. "Ugh, pretend you're not here, Eddie!" she hissed, her body bent low over the table.

"Tut, oh Pats it's only…it's only Saffy –" Eddie said. She flailed her arms around uncomfortably and squinted in a kind of 'we're stuck with her whatever happens' way. "Mumma's down here, Saff! Oh, don't pull that face Pats –"

"I'd wring her dry, then wring her neck," Patsy said, smoking harder.

"Yeah…yeah alright, darling…" Eddie said as Saffy came down the stairs, donned in a blue raincoat buttoned up to her neck.

"It's raining like mad out there," Saffy said, reaching the kitchen. "You're supposed to be at the Stop Smoking clinic this morning, Mum."

"Oh that thing…I've already been, darling, yeah…" Eddie replied casually. She tried to hide the cigarette in her hand.

"I can see the cigarette in your hand, Mum," Saffy said tiresomely. "What's she doing here? I bet she persuaded you not to go again."

Eddie looked affronted. "Who's she, darling? The cat's mother, hmm? This is Patsy, darling, she does have a name you know."

"I don't even think a scrawny cat in a dumpster would want to be taken in by her," Saffy said icily. "It'd die of chronic smoke inhalation after half a day."

"Ignore her Eddie, she's just jealous of my success," Patsy said in a lazy voice.

"What success?" Saffy said sharply. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it on a hook, never taking her eyes off Patsy.

"You tell her Eddie, I'm not going to waste any more breath on that little bitch skunk from hell," Patsy declared. She smiled smugly to herself and poured another glass of champagne.

"Tell me what?" Saffy said.

"Patsy's going global, darling," Eddie said. "Yeah, she's gonna be on a chat show, aren't you sweetheart? She's gonna be where the big bucks are!"

"You bet I am," said Patsy.

"What chat show's that, Trisha?" Saffy said scathingly. "Who have you got addicted to drugs this time?"

"That little boy from the estate is recovering very well in hospital, thank you very much, Saffy darling," Eddie said.

"I'm sure that's not the attitude his mother's taking," replied Saffy.

"I am going to be the presenter, anyway, not an interviewee," Patsy blurted out, looking insulted. She rose from the table, and suddenly the kitchen faded out into darkness, with just a single spotlight now shining down on her. "I'm going to be a global superstar, an icon of the age," she said, her voice magnified and slightly more eloquent than it normally was.

Patsy's fantasy took her to a crowded street, with photographers swarming around her and avid fans fighting to get her autograph. Patsy herself was wearing a long fur coat and dark shades. Every so often, she casually answered the question of a reporter.

"Where do you get your fur coats from, Miss Stone?" a reported asked.

"Oh darling, you don't want to see me in prison already, do you?" Patsy responded glamorously, posing for the camera.

A little homeless boy stepped forwards and held out a tin bowl. "Please?" he asked Patsy.

"Oh, oh right…sorry…" Patsy said a little less glitzily, and she flicked some ash from her cigarette into the bowl before sweeping away. "It's going to be fabulous," she said, now sitting in the kitchen again with Eddie and Saffy.