Scene: Madonna and Guy Ritchie are having breakfast and watching E! Entertainment Television on the Skye Satellite. Madonna is leaning forward, her brow furrowed. Guy is blowing bubbles. The children are, of course, nowhere to be seen.
MADONNA (turning off TV): Guy, we need to get one of those babies.
GUY: They’re out with the nanny, I think.
MADONNA: No, not one of the children we already have, you idiot. They’re too old to be any use anymore. I need a new baby. An adopted one.
MADONNA: Yes. Look how well it’s working for that Jolie person. She’s got two of them.
GUY: Wow…two adopted babies. Can I name them? Can they sleep in my bed with me?
MADONNA: Don’t be stupid, you talentless fop. They’ll sleep in the East Wing with those other kids we have.
GUY: Okay, who do we call?
MADONNA: Anyone who’ll take our check.
GUY: I might know somebody, you know. I’m street.
MADONNA: If you’re street, I’m a talented writer. Your stepfather was a lord. I keep trying to tell you that. Besides, I don’t want some cheap-ass English baby. Anyone can have one of those.
MADONNA: What is the matter with you? Asian babies are so three years ago. I want to buy a black one.
GUY: But why not just get an English one, I mean, kids in England need homes and families, too.
MADONNA: This is why nobody lets you direct movies anymore, dipshit. I don’t care about the kid. Somebody else is going to do that part. I just want to adopt one, so people will know what a great person I am and how much I care. I can’t let Angelina Jolie eclipse me, for fuck’s sake. My albums aren’t doing well, I need all the exposure I can get. As long as there’s lots of Vaseline on the lens, anyway.
GUY: We could get one of those English babies with special needs, like an autistic one or something, who really needs the help we could give. That would impress people.
MADONNA: That’s not photogenic. God, no wonder your career’s in the toilet. I need an attractive black baby, must look good and be healthy and normal, pronto. Make the calls. (She gets up.) I’m going to go screw the gardener, then I’m going shopping, and there better be a black baby waiting for me when I get back.
GUY: Okay. You’re such a sweet person, such a good Mommie.
MADONNA (smiles): That’s right. They can all call me…Mommie Dearest.