Jonny opens the door to Edina's PR office angrily. JONNY: Hack off my tits! Hack off my tits! I'm having a nervous breakdown, a nervous breakdown! . I'm a sinew on a stick! I'm a merman about to pee into insanity! EDINA: Jonny, darling. JONNY: I have been exposed to hideous face lifts on shoulder pads. Those b**h buyers at Bloomingdales have told me my creations aren't wearable. Come here you hussy. (Snatches jacket from model.) Unwearable? I am an artist, an artist. These are my canvases. I am not some blind, tart seamstress, huddled over her fabric in the quiet of Bologna. These are to be worshipped, worshipped. Did they ask Da Vinci for washing instructions? Did they ask Pica**o for zips? I'm going to do what every good Buddhist should do: to set myself alight. EDINA: Darling. Darling. You're an artist, you're a genius, you're a creator. Look at your clothes: they're fabulous, darling! (Changing her voice to sheepish) You're an inventor. Just put little zips, little washing instructions for me? Edina and Jonny kiss cheeks. JONNY: Alright. You're so good for me. Jonny turns toward Patsy and sees her holding a lighter with the flame in his direction. JONNY: (Scoffing) Spiteful b**h!