Donatella: Dahlink, what did you say your name was?
Iggy: Jim. But people call me Iggy Pop.
Donatella: Mr. Poop with no shirt on, what do you think of this show? It’s faboolous, don’t you think? Faboolous.
Iggy: Ah…that’s Pop.
Donatella: Yes, yes, silly man. Poop. How did you get so browney tan? You are more gloriously bronzed than my own gloriously glorious and beautiful goddess self and I do not like this one bit. How is this possible? I think I hate you now. Yes. I hate you and your rugged orange beauty, Mr. Ugly Poop. In my mind I am slapping you.
Iggy: Pop, Iggy POP, you whacked out bitch.
Donatella: Yes, yes, little brown man. You are repetitive and Donatella grows bored. You will give her a cigarette and go pouf! Away now.
Iggy: You are batshit crazy, woman.
Donatella: Fly, fly like the wind, Mr. Poop. Gaze at my exquisite blondeness no longer. Our special time together is now done.