First Draft by
Helen Fielding

20 January 1998

© Working Title Films



FANTASY BRIDGET reads Financial Times and sips lemon tea in immaculate white minimalist flat.




FANTASY BRIDGET emerges with armfuls of flowers, smiles patronizingly at flower-sellers as she loads flowers into back of a red hatchback, swinging her long shiny hair.




FANTASY BRIDGET works out on exercise bike, reading the Economist earnestly, oblivious of admiring stares from delicious, oiled, half naked men.




FANTASY BRIDGET in Prada suit is chairing a meeting of twelve male EXECUTIVES.


FANTASY BRIDGET: So, what I'm saying gentlemen, is when the going gets tough the going rate is 50% on my salary. OK?


THE EXECUTIVES burst into roars of appreciative laughter and rise to their feet, clapping and saying 'here, here!'




FANTASY BRIDGET in evening dress arrives late and gorgeous to join SEX-GOD at table who rises appreciatively and holds out a selection of Tiffany's boxes.




FANTASY BRIDGET and SEX-GOD in bed having overacted simultaneous orgasms. FANTASY BRIDGET'S hair and make-up are still immaculate.




BRIDGET lies in bed groaning with hangover, hair sticking up wildly, last night's make-up smeared over her face, staring, horrified at the ceiling. There are clothes, bottles of wine, self-help books and teeming ashtrays all over the floor. SHAZZER - a beautiful, frail-looking, stridently confused feminist - is asleep on the floor. JUDE - a top city executive - gentle and obsessed with self help books - is asleep on the bottom of the bed.


BRIDGET V.O.: Saturday 1st January. Alcohol Units 0 (VG)  ; cigarettes, 0 (VG)  ; calories 0 (VG) but then have only just woken up.


She pulls the covers back.


BRIDGET V.O.: New Year's Resolutions: I will stop smoking, drink no more than fourteen alcohol units a week. I will reduce circumference of thighs by 3 inches: i.e. 11/2 inches each.


She gets out of bed and holds her head in her hands.


BRIDGET V.O.: I will improve career and find new job with potential. Develop own authority with mother.


She gets up and starts heading for the bathroom, where she weighs herself and fills the weight in on a chart and performs ablutions.


BRIDGET V.O.: Go to gym three times a week not merely to buy sandwich. Not go out every night but stay in and improve mind. Form functional relationship with responsible adult. (She notices her weight) Fuck. 9st 3! (She writes it down on a chart).


BRIDGET, back in bedroom with tamed hair, getting dressed.


BRIDGET V.O.: I will not obsess about Daniel Cleaver but furnish mind with current affairs etcetera. I will be kinder and help others more and learn to programme video.


The phone rings.




She looks at the phone and suddenly brightens.


BRIDGET V.O.: Maybe Daniel!


BRIDGET smooths her hair and picks up the phone.


BRIDGET: Hello? (Very disappointed) Oh, hello Mum. Sorry. Yes. Sorry. Sorry. Happy New Year. Sorry. Bye, then.


BRIDGET looks at herself in the mirror, seeing a very fat person looking back. She frantically decides to change her outfit.


SHAZZER: You're not actually going to this Turkey Curry Buffet Smug Married fest are you?


BRIDGET: I've got to, got to. God, I'm so late.


JUDE: I thought you were supposed to be standing up to her.


BRIDGET: I know. I am. But I made the arrangement before I started standing up to her.

They look at her oddly.

BRIDGET: You see. Mmm. Well better go anyway. Bye.




BRIDGET's black mini is making a lot of noise about not going particularly fast.


BRIDGET V.O.: I will not: ever drink again; smoke; fall for any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, commitment phobics, people with girlfriend or wives, misogynists, megalomaniacs, chauvinists, emotional fuckwits or freeloaders, perverts.




BRIDGET is trying to put lipstick on in the rear view mirror. She looks up and sees that the motorway is dividing, tries to drive across the stripey divide on the road then gives up and veers straight ahead again.


BRIDGET V.O.: Great. I'm going to Birmingham now!




BRIDGET's mini reversing in a dirt track and turning round.


BRIDGET V.O.: I will not sulk about having no boyfriend, but develop inner poise and sense of self as woman of substance complete without boyfriend as best way to obtain boyfriend.




BRIDGET is looking at the map and her watch. She sees a packet of Silk Cut in her open bag.




The Mini is driving along, fast and haphazardly.




BRIDGET V.O.: You see, it's ridiculous to try and give up today with a hangover when actually I did smoke after midnight anyway. Better to wait until my system's cleansed and it's not a stressful time, because the Turkey Curry Buffet is stressful.


She lights a cigarette.




A largish detached house with a conservatory, porch, carriage lamps and mock Georgian windows. BRIDGET approaches the porch and rings the bell which gives the entire tune of a town hall clock. She slumps, hungover against the porch.


BRIDGET V.O.: Though actually it should be much better this year as have learned so much about how to deal with things.


UNA ALCONBURY, breezy and bossy, clad in a lurid Country Casuals two-piece, approaches the ripply glass of the front door and opens it.




UNA: Durr! Where the heckers have you been? We were just about to start without you. Mummy's having to sieve the gravy.


BRIDGET: Sorry. I got lost.


UNA: Lost? Durr!


UNA flings open the living room door. An assortment of Bridget's parents friends are consuming sherry and gherkins.


UNA: She got lost everyone!


BRIDGET winces as GEOFFREY ALCONBURY approaches, bright red in the face and somewhat drunk. He does a jokey Bruce Forsyth step.


GEOFFREY: Lost? What are we going to do with you? Durr! How's my lit-tel Bridget?


He gives her an enthusiastic clumsy kiss.


GEOFFREY: (Hitching up the waistband of his trousers) Hahumph! Come on, let's get you a drink. How's your love life, anyway?


BRIDGET: Fine, thanks.


GEOFFREY: (Booms) So you still haven't got a feller!


GEOFFREY pours BRIDGET a cream sherry.


UNA: Bridget! What are we going to do with you? You career girls. Can't put it off forever, you know. Tick tock! Tick tock!


BRIAN ENDERBY - a golf club bore - joins in.


BRIAN ENDERBY: Yes, how does an attractive woman get to your age without being married?


BRIDGET cringes. DAD - long-suffering, ironic, sweet - approaches and guides her away.


BRIDGET: Thank God you're here.


DAD: I'm extremely pleased to see you too my dear. Your mother's had the entire Northampton Constabulary poised to comb the county with toothbrushes for you dismembered remains.


BRIDGET: Why do they do this? I wouldn't rush up to them and roar, 'How's your marriage going? Still having sex?'


DAD: No. And, please don't if you can possibly, er, hold back.


MUM - attractive, bouffed, trillingly over-confident - appears in the identical two-piece to UNA with an Angie Best tan, a sieve and a tray of vol-au-vents.


MUM: Oh there's you are, darling! You decided not to wear a dress then? Anyway, come along and meet Mark. Look! Una's got the same two-piece on as me. Isn't that silly!


UNA and MUM flank her and bear her off. MARK DARCY - late thirties, aloof, OK-looking but dressed in slacks, a hideous diamond patterned sweater, bumblebee socks and with weird hair - is standing with his back to the room studying a bookshelf.


UNA: Mark! We've got someone nice for you to meet!


MARK turns, looking snooty.


UNA: This is Colin and Pam's daughter, Bridget!


MUM: You and Bridget used to play together in the paddling pool! Do you remember?


BRIDGET cringes.


MARK: Not as such, no.


MUM: Bridget works in publishing, don't you Bridget?


BRIDGET: I do indeed.


BRIDGET V.O.: 'I do Indeed' Why did I say that? It sounds as though I'm on a capital radio phone in. and I'm going to start asking if I can 'say hello to a few people.'


MARK and BRIDGET shake hands.




MARK: Pleased to meet you.


UNA: You and Bridget should get together in London. Bridget lives quite near you, you know.


BRIDGET has noticed his bumblebee socks.

MARK: I'm sure Bridget's got quite enough friends in London already.


UNA: Well! We'd better leave you two young people together. I expect you're sick to death of us old fuddy-duddies!


MARK: Not at all.


UNA puts her hand to her bosom and gives a gay tinkling laugh.


UNA: Come along Pam!


MUM: (Hisses, to Bridget) Stand up straight, darling.


MARK: So. Publishing? Have you read any good books lately?


BRIDGET: (Lies) Oh yes. Loads.


MARK: Any books in particular?


BRIDGET: Umm. Well I'm just reading The Famished Road by Ben Okri.


MARK: Ah yes. I read that a couple of years ago.


BRIDGET: What, all the way through?


BRIDGET looks at the socks again.


BRIDGET V.O.: It's amazing how much time and trouble can be saved in dating by close attention to detail. A swastika here, a bumblebee sock there can save you a fortune on expensive lunches and phone calls.


MARK: Yeees. Don't you think it's a rather poor conceit?


BRIDGET: Um. Well not too poor.


MARK: I'm sorry?


BRIDGET: Actually I'm only on page two.




More long silence.


BRIDGET: Have you been staying with your parents over New Year?


MARK: Yes.


More long pause.  

MARK: You too?




More pause.


MARK: Interesting.


More pause.


BRIDGET: (Gabbling) I mean no. I was at a party in London last night. Bit hungover, actually. But then, you see, I don't think New Year's Resolutions should actually have to start on New Year's Day, do you? Because it's simply an extension of New Year's Eve. Similarly New Year's Day Diets, because you really need to eat whatever you feel like to ease your... (Tailing off, realizing he is staring horrified) ...hangover. Don't you find ?


MARK: Actually, no. Excuse me. I feel I'm neglecting my aunt.


BRIDGET, hideously embarrassed looks back at the assembled grown-ups. There is a surreal Hitchcockian moment where everyone stares at her and the ordinary hubbub changes into a succession of louder murmurs of:


PARTY MURMUR: So that's why Bridget isn't married. She repulses men.


BRIDGET, fumbling, lights a cigarette. Mum approaches with a cut-glass dish full of gherkins.


MUM: Bridget!


BRIDGET hurriedly hides the cigarette.


MUM: What have you done with Mark?


BRIDGET : Arrogant sod.


MUM: (icily) I don't want to hear that word in this house again. Why don't you go see if he wants a gherkin?




It is a preserved teenager's bedroom: single bed, Leonard Cohen poster still on the wall, gonks. BRIDGET, dressed in a Marks and Spencer's passion-killer nightie is having a fag out of the window.


BRIDGET V.O.: Why am I so unattractive? Why? Why? It's not that I wanted a total geek in diamond patterned sweater and bumblebee socks to fancy but not to make it perfectly obvious he didn't fancy me. I'm doomed, doomed. Cannot believe I'm starting the New Year, again, in single bed in my parents' house. Is too humiliating at my age. There's a knock. DAD puts his head round the door.


DAD: Don't suppose you've got a cigarette... ah! Excellent.


BRIDGET: I didn't know you smoked.


BRIDGET hands him a cigarette.


DAD: Don't tell your mother.


She lights it for him.


DAD: Talking of your whom, I was wondering. Ahm.




DAD: Have you noticed anything different about her lately.


BRIDGET: You mean apart from being bright orange?


DAD: (Bursting out) She's been like this ever since she got back from Albufeira with Una. She's started saying she wants to be paid for doing the housework and that she's wasted her life being our slave and... (He is very upset now) andÖ


BRIDGET: (Alarmed) ...what?


DAD: She said I though the clitoris was something from Nigel Coles' Lepidoptera collection.


There is a loud coughing noise below. They look down. GRANNY - senile, and obsessed with biscuits - is smoking a cigarette out of the window.


BRIDGET: (Whispers) It's alright it's only granny.


GRANNY: (Looking up) Ooh look! Biscuits.


Another window opens. The immaculately coiffed head of MUM appears. She lights up a cigarette. Everyone notices the others at once and disappears inside, apart from GRANNY who continues smoking happily.




An open plan, modern publishing office, with Daniel Cleaver's office partitioned off. BRIDGET is sitting at her computer with a mini-break brochure on her desk. PERPETUA - her immediate bossy-sloane superior - is talking loudly on the phone.


MUSIC: Silly Games, Janet Kaye.


PERPETUA: Yars, yars... well it is north facing, but they've done something frightfully clever with the light.


BRIDGET looks up at the clock, and at the door.


PERPETUA: Bridget. Will. You. Get. On. (She goes back to her phone call) Yars, yars. But the point is, does one really want to pay another forty grand for what is, effectively, a cupboard?


The swing doors burst open with a flourish. DANIEL, very sexy and bad looking, enters, accompanied by a young SECRETARY.


Bridget freezes and blushes.


DANIEL: Morning everybody. Don't get up. Don/t want you exhausting yourselves before the year's even begun.


The SECRETARIES titter appreciatively.


DANIEL: Morning, Bridget. Don't let me interrupt the Stakhanovite flow. (In an undertone) You seem to have forgotten your skirt.


He disappears into his glass partition. BRIDGET, pleased, pulls down her skirt. Her COMPUTER beeps.




BRIDGET presses a button.




BRIDGET gives a furtive glance at PERPETUA and types a response.




She presses SEND and looks eagerly at DANIEL through the partition. He reads the message and laughs. BRIDGET smiles dreamily.


PERPETUA: Bridget. Will you stop staring into space with your mouth open and get on with that bloody proposal. And that doesn't mean reading mini-break brochures.


BRIDGET: I've done it.




Bridget hand her a sheaf of papers.


BRIDGET: I've done it. I just swapped round the start and the end then just made it follow the argument more in the middle.


PERPETUA takes it and returns to her phone call, reading it as she talks. BRIDGET turns back to her work determinedly but suddenly notices MESSAGE PENDING flashing on her screen. She presses RMS Execute.




She laughs. They share a provocative glance. COLIN FROM MARKETING - a plump, Car Salesman type - passes and reads over her shoulder.




BRIDGET, very pleased with herself, is swanning round the flat, listening to Eternal Flame by the Bangles which is reaching its climax.


BRIDGET: (Sings) Or is this burning an eternal flaaame.


She impulsively picks the phone up and dials.


BRIDGET: Magda, hi, fantastic news!




A posh Smallbone kitchen full of pasta jars and the mess of two toddlers at tea time. Magda picks up the phone mid-chaos.


MAGDA: Hi! What? Mummy will smack! She will smack!


HARRY, who is three, starts yelling and trying to grab toys from the baby who also starts yelling.




BRIDGET: So then he says can he have my home phone number because he wants to send my skirt flowers...




The fight has escalated horribly. Magda is still talking into the phone, but at Harry.


MAGDA: I thought I told you not to take those things from him. Stop it! Just stop it!


BRIDGET: What? But I...


MAGDA goes over to separate Harry and the baby, then returns, carrying the baby to the phone. Harry yells.


MAGDA: Sorry, hon. Look if you want to do a poo poo you ask to go on the potty. Hang on, Bridge.


BRIDGET looks at the phone and rolls her eyes. MAGDA comes back and picks up the phone.


BRIDGET: Magda! Are you talking to me or the kids? I've just been holding on for about four minutes.


MAGDA: Well if you will always ring at bloody feeding time.


BRIDGET: Well, when else am I supposed to ring?


MAGDA: 9 till 12? When Harry's at playgroup or after 8.


BRIDGET: Some of us have to work in the day, and I'm out in the evenings.


MAGDA: You don't go out every night, do you?


BRIDGET: No, no. I stay in and... do things.




BRIDGET is lying on the sofa, with a book and a Chopin Nocturne tinkling away, looking bored.


BRIDGET V.O.: You see this is what is wrong with my life, I go out too much. Every one needs time alone to reflect and recharge one's spiritual batteries.


She goes to the fridge and pours a glass of wine. Sits back on the sofa.


BRIDGET V.O.: Bit boring, though.


She picks up the phone.


BRIDGET: Jude. Hi. You doing anything tonight?




BRIDGET, muffled up, approaches 192. The Street is full of trendy young people in unfathomable style-statements on their way for a night out - rather more of them than seems normal on mobiles.


BRIDGET V.O.: Ok so lunch was Hay Diet, or hmm - Hummus and Mars Bar - at least alkaline forming so then if I have, say, chicken and vegetables tonight that's Scarsdale Diet and if I don't drink anything that should still be less than 1500 calories and pretty Fit for Life: apart from the Mars Bar.


We see a scary-looking Rastafarian with huge bonnet and dreadlocks from behind. From the front we see he is white and young.


A boy with a ponytail and facial hair rides solemnly by on a motorized skateboard. His girlfriend, also riding on the skateboard, looks incredibly embarrassed.


BRIDGET grins and rolls her eyes. A Beggar confronts her.


EUROBEGGAR : Vous avez un franc? Pour le Metro.


BRIDGET : Oui, bien sur. Ou peut etre un 50 pee.




JUDE and SHAZZER are sitting in a trendy bar/restaurant with wooden floors, and coloured walls: girls in skirts, trainers and strange woolly hats, men in ugly modern spectacles.


JUDE: Ok, so they're black, suede, quite a high kitten heel then a sort of strap over the toe bit with a buckle. And I thought sheer black tights...


SHAZZER: Jude. Jude. It's a board meeting. You're the Chairman.


JUDE: Chairperson.


SHAZZER: Do the words 'shallow' 'airheaded' and 'bimbo' mean anything to you?


BRIDGET enters.


JUDE: It's a question of inner confidence.


BRIDGET: Hi! Guess what? I've just seen a Eurobeggar.


SHAZZER: We've all seen him.


BRIDGET, a bit crestfallen, kisses SHAZZER then JUDE.


SHAZZER: Do you want a drink?


BRIDGET sits down.


BRIDGET: No thanks, I'm not drinking.


JUDE: So how was the Turkey Curry Buffet?


BRIDGET: Smug Married torture hell. I spent the entire time being asked why I'm not married yet and being thrown like a Christian to lions at a bushyhaired git in bumblebee socks. But Daniel's been really flirty since I got back.


SHAZZER: Grrr! You should have said, 'I'm not married because I'm a Singleton, you narrow minded morons' and because there's more than one way to live...


JUDE starts flicking through a copy of Vogue.


BRIDGET: Singletons! Hurrah! Oh nice jacket, Shazzie. (to Jude) How's Vile Richard?


SHAZZER: Can you believe he chucked her for getting too serious because she asked him if he wanted to go away for Easter?


JUDE: It's my fault. I was being kind of needy and fantasizing.


SHAZZER: Fantasizing! You've been going out with him for three years. It's just Fuckwittage.


BRIDGET: Bastards! Fuckwittage! Hurrah!


JUDE laughs and rubs Bridge's ann. SHAZZZER snorts.


TOM enters.


TOM: Bridget! You've lost so much weight.


BRIDGET: (Delighted) Have I?


JUDE and SHAZZER roll their eyes. He says this every time he sees her.


TOM sits down and pours himself a huge glass of wine and puts his hand to his forehead.


TOM: I really think Jerome is actually going to drive me to a breakdown. He is just so emotionally mean. He's the Ebeneezer Scrooge of the emotional world. He's...


SHAZZER: Tom, can we talk about something other than you just for a moment? We were in the middle of a conversation.


TOM: A conversation? Not about me? Don't be absurd. Listen. I've had the most fabulous idea for the Alternative Miss World...


BRIDGET V.O.: Maybe it's a bit selfish to give up drinking tonight if Jude and Tom are having emotional crises. It would seem inappropriately goody goody.


BRIDGET pours herself a glass of wine.


TOM: Miss Global warming! I'm going to wear a polystyrenethe globe with the polar ice-caps melting. Do you think I should have a melanoma?




JUDE: Yes.


SHAZZER: But wouldn't that detract from you being a world rather than a person?


BRIDGET happily takes a big slurp of wine.


LATER everyone is pissed.


BRIDGET: Being pro-Europe is is to do with being... (she pauses thoughtfully) ...European. Do you really think I shouldn't have given him my phone number?




BRIDGET: But we've been building up to this moment for four months.


SHAZZER: And has he rung?


BRIDGET: (Sheepish) No.


REBECCA - a stylish sub-friend whom none of them actually likes because she's such a subtle bitch - walks into the bar.


BRIDGET V.O.: Oh no not Rebecca. She's a horrible jellyfisher. When you talk to her, it's like when you're swimming in a lovely warm sea, and something stings you then everything immediately looks lovely again, and you don't know what it was that hit you but you're left really hurting.


REBECCA: Hi! God! Bridget. I had a drink with Suzanne Dobson last week. She sent her love. I didn't know you were at Bangor with her. I was really surprised.




REBECCA: I thought you were about four years older than her. Great Jacket, Jude. Is it from Principles? Look there's Charlie Moore! See you later.


TOM: I think I actually am going to chuck him this time. I'm going to give him up for Lent.


BRIDGET V.O.: (While she continues laughing and smiling.) I look four years older than Suzanne Dobson. I'm ageing prematurely.


JUDE: I'm sure Simon fancies you, Shaz, you know. Every time anyone mentions you he goes all sort of silly.


BRIDGET V.O.: I'm a tragic barren spinster.


SHAZ: Oh don't be ridiculous. He wears white socks.


JUDE: Shazzer. We've seen him wear white socks once and he was on his way to play tennis.


BRIDGET: He's really sexy, Shaz.


BRIDGET V.O.: I'm one of those women who goes round thinking the vicar's in love with her. I'm going to end up dying alone and being found three weeks later half eaten by an alsatian.


SHAZZER: I've known him for ten years. It would be like sleeping with my own brother.




JUDE: What?


BRIDGET: I look really old for my age.


JUDE: No. It was just a typical Rebecca jellyfish.


TOM: (To himself, baffled) Jellyfish?




BRIDGET looks in the mirror and morphs into a fifty year old lady with a tight perm, lipstick smeared all over her mouth in a lilac nylon dressing gown, holding a cat. JUDE and SHAZZER enter, take her by the arm and haul her out.




BRIDGET enters and lurchs to the answerphone. The red light is flashing.


BRIDGET: Hurrah! Oops!


Eagerly, she presses ANSWER PLAY.


DAD'S VOICE: Ah, Bridget Jones' father.


She rolls her eyes. Answerphone beeps.


MUM'S VOICE: Oh hello, darling. Guess what? I'm going to come and have lunch with you tomorrow. Just the two of us. Like sisters! (There is a strangled sob) Imagine! I'm going to bring a piece of Salmon and some new potatoes. Don't say nothing to Daddy! I'll be there about one.


Answerphone beeps again.


DAD'S VOICE: Bridget Jones father. Ahem. I was just wondering, if, ah, I might come and have lunch with Bridget. Sunday that is. I'll be down in London. Not to call back or say anything to her mother. I'll just, um, come at one.


BRIDGET looks panic stricken and reaches for a cigarette. Eventually she grabs at the phone and dials.


BRIDGET: Daniel! Hi! Bridget here. Just wondered if you fancied going for a drink sometime, like you said.


She puts the phone down then realizes what she's done, hits herself hard on the forehead and dials again.


BRIDGET: Tom. It's an emergency. I've done something completely terrible.




Tom, still in his outdoor clothes, is ushered by BRIDGET into the sitting room. He is carrying the Miss Global Warming costume.


TOM: So what did you actually say?


BRIDGET: I said. Oh God. I can't believe I did this. I asked him if he wanted to have a drink sometime.


TOM closes his eyes and whistles through his teeth as if she's just admitted to murdering a policeman.


TOM: Will you never learn? OK. Leave it to me. Give me the number. If I can crack the code I'll erase it.


Tom is repeatedly ringing the number and fiddling with the phone.


BRIDGET: So the way to a man's heart these days is not beauty, sex or alluringness of character but merely the ability to seem not very interested in him. I mean how is anybody supposed to get it together with anybody?


TOM: Got it! Sixty nine. Obviously a man of immense subtlety. Oh my God. (He slams the phone down) He picked up.


BRIDGET: No! He'll do 1471 and then he'll think it's me who's rung his answerphone 47 times then put the phone down when he picked up. What am I going to say on Monday morning?


TOM: Just be cool. And if he asks you out, say no.


BRIDGET: Yeah, right. I'm going to feel so completely cool I'll be a practically a scampi.


TOM: A scampi, Bridge?


BRIDGET: Oh noooo! What am I going to do about Mum and Dad? I can't have them both arriving at the same time.


TOM: Calm, Inner poise. Who is the most vulnerable?


BRIDGET: Dad. Definitely.


TOM: Right. Tell your Mum, your Dad's coming to lunch and you'll see her in the week. She can take it. She's an adult.


BRIDGET: OK. Yup. Yup.




MOTHER is banging about opening and shutting all the kitchen cupboards.


MUM: Honestly, darling, what a mess! Where do you keep your soup ladles?


BRIDGET: I don't have any soup ladles.


Mum opens a cupboard and a load of empty bottles fall out.


MUM: Whatever were you doing last night?


BRIDGET: Tom came round.


MUM: Is he the one who's one of these 'Homos'?


BRIDGET: You know who Tom is.


MUM: Honestly, darling. I don't know why you girls are so keen on them.


BRIDGET V.O.: They too are used to being treated as disappointments by their parents and freaks by society.


MUM: It's just laziness if you ask me. They simply can't be bothered to relate to the opposite sex. It starts at public school.


BRIDGET: Mum. Tom's known he was gay since he was 7 and a half.


MOTHER suddenly bursts into tears and slumps down at the table. BRIDGET rushes and puts her arms round her.


BRIDGET: What's wrong?


MUM: (Sobbing histrionically)  I feel like the grasshopper who sang all summer. I've spent thirty five years looking after your father, cleaning his house, bringing up his children...


BRIDGET: (Hurt) Jamie and I are your children too.


MUM: And now it's the winter of my life and I haven't got anything of my own. I want a life. I want a career. I feel like Germaine sodding Gear and the Invisible Woman.


BRIDGET: You're not. You're very...


MUM: Just you wait, darling. Just you wait. You'll find out what men are like.


BRIDGET: But I already...


MUM: (Darkly, to herself) ...Oh yes!


BRIDGET: But it's wonderful to be a mother.


MUM bursts into renewed sobs.


MUM: Having children isn't all it's built up to be.


BRIDGET looks mortified.


BRIDGET V.O.: Even My own mother wishes I had never been born.


More attention-seeking sobbing from Mum.


BRIDGET: It's not too late, you could get a job.


MUM brighten slightly.


MUM: Could I?


BRIDGET: Well, er... Do you want to show me how I should re-arrange the kitchen cupboards?


MUM: No.


BRIDGET: Do you want to see if I need any more tureens for dinner parties?


MUM: Well... No. Maybe some other time.


BRIDGET: Do you want to go through all my clothes and suggest some different ones in bright colors?


MUM: Alright then. (Brightening) I mean really, darling. If you will go round in all these fudges and slurries you can't expect to find yourself a boyfriend. They don't like it, you know. Una and I were just saying we should take you to have your Colours done. Oh my godfathers! Is that the time? I'll have to whizz.


BRIDGET: Where to?


MOTHER: (Gathering up her things)  Nowhere, darling. Byee!




A busy Bloomsbury scene, somewhere near the British Museum. BRIDGET is emerging from a cafe, holding a capuccino and taking a chocolate croissant out of a paper bag.


BRIDGET V.O.: Three hours between waking up and leaving the house is too much. In future am going to get straight up when wake-up and not look at any brochures. Also not have chocolate croissant but just half grapefruit.


She takes a bite of the croissant.


BRIDGET: Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.




BRIDGET is finishing the cappucino and talking on the phone.


BRIDGET: It's that thing when instead of your parents looking after you, it's you looking after them. It makes me feel really old.


She glances at DANIEL'S door and at PERPETUA and lowers her voice slightly.


BRIDGET: No, nothing. Zilch. Yup. OK. If he asks me out, I'll just say I'm really busy.


PERPETUA: (On phone) The thing is, does one want to go for red with a floral frieze or grey ruched blinds against yellow? Yars... yars... yars...


DANIEL exits his office.


BRIDGET: Ooh. Better go. OK. Ice Queen. Bye.


DANIEL sits on the edge of BRIDGET's desk.


He takes out his diary.


DANIEL: So how are you fixed for this drink... Let's see... Sunday night?


BRIDGET: (Squeaks) Ooh yes please.


DANIEL: Fine. I'll book us somewhere divine. And you make sure that skirt stays at home and has a little rest.


PERPETUA: (Glaring) Yars... yars... yars... yars. But of course, in a sense, one could make exactly the same argument for the red.


DANIEL heads back to his office.


BRIDGET: Yessss! Yesss!


PERPETUA puts the phone down.


PERPETUA: Bridget. That thing you reworked. It was rather good.


BRIDGET V.O.: Yessss!




BRIDGET is kneeling on a towel attempting to wax her own bikini line in front of a political programme on the TV. There are newspapers and self-help books all over the floor.


BRIDGET V.O.: Tuesday 1st February. 9st 0 (vg)  ; cigarettes 12; (stressed) alcohol units 0 (vg)  ; no. of correct lottery numbers 2 (better but still completely useless).


She tentatively starts on her bikini line.


BRIDGET V.O.: Surely it is not normal to be revising for a date as if it were a job interview?


She has got the wax strip stuck.


BRIDGET V.O.: It's worse than being a bloody farmer. Harvesting, crop spraying. Exfoliating, cellulite massaging. Ow.

She tugs again and gets it off then starts on the other side.


BRIDGET: Tom says 'just be yourself' but you only need to neglect the process for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed and end up with a full beard and handlebar moustache on each shin.


The doorbell rings.




She clears up in a massive sweep, pulls her dressing gown round her, fluffs her hair and opens the door. DAD enters.


BRIDGET: Dad. What are you doing here?


He sits down on the sofa and burst into tears. Bridget is torn between concern and a desire to look at the clock.


DAD: When someone loves you it's like having cotton wool all round your heart - and then when it's taken away.


BRIDGET: (Putting her arms round him.) What's happened?


DAD: She doesn't love me anymore. I'm old and unattractive and so she's turned into a feminist.


BRIDGET: Maybe she just feels she hasn't done anything for herself in her life. Maybe she needs to feel more appreciated.


BRIDGET surreptitiously glances at the clock.


DAD: She says she wants a trial separation. She wants me to move out into the Alconbury's granny flat.


The phone rings. BRIDGET jumps up and knocks things over in her haste to get to it. She picks up.




She looks down and sees that she has a pair of tights stuck to her calf. She pulls them off.


BRIDGET: Tom. Hi, look Dad's here and I'm in a real... OK. I can't see it. Can't you wait till tomorrow? (Looking around the room) Where did you leave it? Oh My God. OK, OK. I'll go see. (Puts the phone down) Dad. I think I may have thrown Tom's mobile phone away with the newspapers. (Writes down a number) If I go downstairs will you ring this number in two minutes?




BRIDGET, in a coat and slippers, with a towel on her head and bits of leaf and cotton wool stuck to her legs, is standing on a wall peering into the communal dustbins looking at her watch and up at the window.


BRIDGET: Come on, Dad, come on.


BRIDGET bites her wrist as MARK DARCY jogs up, all sweaty in a jogging outfit.


MARK: Evening.


BRIDGET: Gaaah! What are you doing here?


MARK: Just passing. (He looks between her and the dustbins) And you? Foraging for food?


BRIDGET: I am waiting for the dustbin to ring.


MARK: I see.


There is a pause.


MARK: Have you been waiting... long?


BRIDGET: No. Not really. A normal amount of time.


MARK: And do you normally spend your evenings waiting for inanimate objects to ring?


BRIDGET: Listen. Why don't you just...


One of the dustbins rings.


BRIDGET: Ah. Excuse me one second.


She tries unsuccessfully to get into the dustbin. MARK leans in and gets the phone. He answers it.


MARK: Hello?


He holds out the phone to her.


MARK: It's for you.


BRIDGET: (Smugly) Thought it might be. Thank you.


There is a loud noise of crying above. They look up to see DAD on the phone crying out of the window.


BRIDGET: (Into phone) Hold on, Dad, I'm coming. (To Mark) Look thanks, but, um. Bye.




BRIDGET reappears and hugs Dad.


BRIDGET: It's going to be allright. It's all going to be allright.


Frantic now, she starts putting up the ironing board and running a bath.


BRIDGET: I hope you don't mind but I'm going to nave to carry on getting ready while we talk.


DAD: I think she's having an affair.


BRIDGET starts fighting with the ironing board trying to put it up.


BRIDGET: What? Of course she isn't having an affair, she's nearly seventy. Bother, bother, bother!


DAD looks hurt.


DAD: Oh. Somebody rang when you were out. Someone called David?


BRIDGET: Daniel?


DAD: Yes. Daniel.


BRIDGET: (Practically grabbing Dad by the throat) What did he say?


DAD: He said he wasn't going to be able to make it. Something to do with work?




The streets are busy with people going out for the night, all in loving couples. BRIDGET stomps along grumpily, past shop windows, wrapped up against the cold.


BRIDGET V.O.: Tues 1st Feb 9pm. Doom Doom. When you're in your twenties you can go for a year without a boyfriend and have any number of disasters and not give it a thought. Then you get in your thirties and the slightest setback makes you think you're a doomed love-pariah. Ooh I wonder if those boots would go with my green coat.




JUDE and SHAZZER are deep in conversation.


JUDE: It's completely see-through. I said 'what about this?' pointing to, you know my bush and, he goes 'doesn't maturrrrr. Ees beauteeful.'


BRIDGET enters, looking sheepish.


JUDE: Bridge! I thought you were seeing Daniel.


BRIDGET: He blew me out, didn't he?


SHAZZER: Ugh. Ugh. If that man turned out to be singlehandedly responsible for all the fighting in Bosnia I wouldn't be in the slightest bit surprised.


JUDE: He doesn't deserve you. What was his excuse?


BRIDGET: He said he was working. I mean maybe he is working. I'm going to be eaten by an alsatian.


SHAZZER: He's a fuckwit. He's a fuckwit son of satan from the jaws of hell.


JUDE: Shazzer we are all responsible for our own experience. Resentment harms no one but...


SHAZZER: Jude. Have another drink and stop talking bollocks.




They pour out more wine.


JUDE: (To Shazzer) Well there you are, then, he fancies you.


SHARON: Don't be ridiculous. I worked out I was actually legally old enough to be his mother.


JUDE: The trouble with you is you don't want to go out with anyone.


SHAZZER: Can you blame me? Vile Richard stood her up for relationship counselling last night.


BRIDGET: He didn't!


JUDE: (Laughing) He did! Can you believe it? The counsellor woman obviously thought I was completely mad. She thought I'd made up an imaginary boyfriend...


BRIDGET: (Also giggling) And plumped for an imaginary fuckwit. Oh! (she gives them both a clumsy biff) Nice to see you girls!


SHAZZER: (In manner of embarrassed teenager) Shud-urrrrrp!  



The three girls are exiting happily together.


BRIDGET: Yup. I'm definitely going to be more assertive with Perpetua. I mean just because it's Julian Barnes it doesn't mean... and I'm going to get down to 8st 7 by Easter, and not going to take any notice of stupid Smug Marrieds.


SHAZZER: We are a pioneer generation, daring to be Singletons because we've got our own economic power!


BRIDGET: (Drunk) Own economic overdraft, more like.


SHAZZER: Shut up, Bridge, you're drunk.


BRIDGET: Well so's blurry well you. Anyway ber go. Oh God, I still love Daniel...


SHAZZER: Aargh. If he asks you out again say no.


JUDE: And don't sleep with him.


BRIDGET: Right. I will. I won't. Definitely...


She trips over the kerb.


BRIDGET: (Giggling happily) Oops.




It is pretty flash: a seducer's pad. BRIDGET and DANIEL are snogging passionately on the sofa. Daniel is unzipping the skirt.


DANIEL: Mmmm. I thought I told you to leave the skirt at home to get some bed rest.


BRIDGET: It wanted to come on the date.


DANIEL: Discipline, Jones. Discipline.


BRIDGET: Not really my best thing.


DANIEL taps her suggestively on the bottom.


DANIEL: We'll have to do something about that. Maybe with a little stick.


She giggles and nuzzles up to him.


BRIDGET: Do you think Perpetua's noticed?


DANIEL freezes.


DANIEL: Noticed what?


BRIDGET is still all nuzzly, happy and cuddly.


BRIDGET: Us. You know.




BRIDGET: Well, you know...


DANIEL pulls away, sits up and lights a cigarette.


DANIEL: This isn't... You know. I mean. There isn't any us.


BRIDGET looks at him, bewildered.


DANIEL: (As if talking to a retarded person who might explode into a tantrum any second.) We're not... we just had dinner, and now we're...


BRIDGET: We're what?


DANIEL: We're - or should I say, we were - enjoying ourselves. That's all.


BRIDGET puts her head down and looks from side to side suspiciously.


BRIDGET: So all that messaging and everything just didn't mean anything?


DANIEL: It didn't mean I'm about to ask you to marry me if that's what you're saying. Jesus Christ!


BRIDGET jumps to her feet not noticing that her skirt has fallen down.


BRIDGET: This is all just... do you know what this is?


Sweetly, furiously incoherent, she starts bustling around looking for her coat and bag.


BRIDGET: It's fuckwittage. That's what it is. You've been flirting with me and messing about for three weeks and now you were just about to...


She wriggles into her coat.


BRIDGET: ...and you weren't even. Anyway I'm going. It's just fuckwittage. I'm going.


DANIEL: Do you want me to call you a taxi?


BRIDGET: (Close to tears) No thank you, I'll be absolutely fine. Goodnight.




Bridget sits, sunk in gloom with a glass of wine. She puts on Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive and starts singing along and dancing, wildly. Then slumps down miserably again. The doorbell rings.




She opens the door. It is DANIEL.


DANIEL: Jones, you appear to have forgotten your skirt.


He holds out the skirt.


DANIEL: I'm sorry, darling, you were quite right.


BRIDGET in bed with DANIEL both breathlessly post-coital. BRIDGET, contented, rests her head on DANIEL'S chest. DANIEL lights a cigarette and smirks.




BRIDGET is trying to get her chewed up ticket to let her out of the barrier which keeps saying 'SEEK ASSISTANCE'.


BRIDGET V.O.: Saturday 20th February. 9st 3; alcohol units 2 (but only 2pm)  ; cigarettes O (given up)  ; calories 4,200 already (poor). Creeping sense of humiliation over lack of post-night-of-passion phone call from Daniel compounded by sense that own Mother is rapidly becoming everything I am not but wish to be.


An underground employee comes to her rescue and lets her through.


TICKET MAN: Gurr! It's a ticket not a bloody sandwich, you know.


BRIDGET makes her way up the stairs and out into the Oxford Street crowds.


BRIDGET V.O.: Oh God, why hasn't Daniel rung? Why? why?




BRIDGET is travelling up the escalator, looking down on the perfume department.


BRIDGET V.O.: I feel like I've sat an exam and am waiting for my results and the longer he doesn't ring for the more I get the feeling... aaaargh.


She has spotted MUM by the Givenchy counter, holding her wrists up coquettishly to the nose of JULIO - a late-in-life moustachiod Latino smoothie, who is clad in a tan leather jacket and carrying a gentleman's handbag.






BRIDGET and MUM who is festooned with more carrier bags - square up over tea.


BRIDGET: Mum. Are you familiar with the expression 'No smoke without fire?'


MUM: Oh don't be ridiculous, darling. You know how Daddy gets these silly-daft ideas. Why don't we pop into Country Casuals and just have a look?


BRIDGET: Who was that man I saw you with in the perfume department?


MUM: A man, darling? Do you mean the doorman? Charming!! Was just having a little chat with him. They've got some really 'with it' things, you know.


BRIDGET: I'm talking about the Omar Sharif look-alike who was sniffing your wrists next to the Givenchy counter.


MUM: Oh you must mean Julio! He's just a friend.


BRIDGET: Where did you meet him?


MUM: Una and I met him in Albufeira. He's over here with his Time-Share. We're helping him translate the brochure.


BRIDGET: Does Dad know about this 'friendship'?


MUM: Just because I'm married to Daddy doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have any other 'friends.' Anyway the reason I wanted to meet you was I've got the most marvellous news.


BRIDGET: (Sulky) What?


MUM drops her eyes then raises them again, proudly like Shirley Temple.


MUM: I'm going to become a TV presenter! Merle and Roger's daughter - you know Roger who used to be President of the Lifeboat in Kettering - anyway she works on Richard and Judy and they were looking for someone in my position and...


BRIDGET: What position?


MUM looks away then looks at her watch.


MUM: Oh my Godfathers! Is that the time! Must whizz. I've got to catch the meat counter in Selfridges.


BRIDGET looks towards the exit, just in time to see Julio duck back into the store. She suddenly gags, puts her hand on her stomach, looks horrified and scrabbles for her diary.




BRIDGET, head down, is surruptitiously looking through the pregnancy tests. The shop is full. The NOSY CHEMIST is her from behind the counter. She picks a pink one up.


NOSY CHEMIST: (Bellows) Do you want a pregnancy test?


BRIDGET looks furiously from side to side.




NOSY CHEMIST: How late's your period? You'd be better off with the blue one. It tells you whether you're pregnant on the first day your period is due.




She shoves the package at him and stands looking embarrassed while he cashes it up.


NOSY CHEMIST: That's be eight pounds ninety five.


BRIDGET: Eight pounds ninety five?


She sulkily hands over the money, takes the packet. Then dashes out and sees COLIN FROM MARKETING, smirking.




BRIDGET is staring furiously at her handbag. Determindely she gets to her feet and picks it up.


BRIDGET: Just going to the toilet.


PERPETUA: Thank you for sharing that with us.




Line of cubicles with rustling coming from one and trickle.


BRIDGET O.S.: Eurgh.




BRIDGET, dressed, is sitting on the loo staring at her watch. She turns round and looks at the test which is on the back of the cistern.


BRIDGET: Aaargh. Aaargh.




An elegant, sloaney room full of power mothers and noisy toddlers. MAGDA - married with kids, posh, beautiful and together - is ushering Bridget in. We see Magda and Jeremy's wedding photo on the table.


BRIDGET: I mean it's his responsibility too and he isn't having to pay eight pounds sodding ninety five and hide in the toilets trying to wee on a stick.


BRIDGET steps in a turd.


BRIDGET: Aaargh.


MAGDA: Now who did that? It can't be Harry because he always asks to got on the potty. Was it Max?


MAX'S MOTHER MINNA: Max's been out of nappies for four months.


MAGDA: I told you you were rushing him.


Magda starts cleaning up the turd. Bridget follows her into the kitchen and back into the living room while they talk, still holding her own turd-smeared shoe.


BRIDGET: Talk about competitive child rearing.


MAGDA: You're not seriously thinking of having the baby are you?


BRIDGET: It might be nice to have a tiny pink creature to love and teach about things.


MAGDA: Would Daniel stick by you?


BRIDGET: Stick by me? He can't even manage to phone when he's put his stick up me. Anyway. Lots of people have babies on their own. Look at Joanna Lumley.


MINNA comes in holding more pants and turds.


MINNA: Magda I couldn't borrow your breast pump could I?


BRIDGET V.O.: Jesus. I'm going to turn into a hideous growbag-cum milk dispensing machine which no one will fancy and will not fit into any of my trousers.


MAGDA bustles back in holding a potty full of wee.


MAGDA: Are you absolutely sure you're pregnant?


BRIDGET: Of course I'm sure. Look.


She takes the stick out of her bag and puts it on the table.


MAGDA: Is this it?


BRIDGET: Of course it's it. What do you think it is?


MAGDA: You are a ridiculous human being. This line is just to show the test is working. One line means you're not pregnant - you total arse. 



BRIDGET, JUDE, and SHAZZER are trying on clothes. BRIDGET inspecting herself in a short v. revealing dress.


JUDE: So when's he back from New York?


BRIDGET: Last night and he hasn't called.


SHAZZER: Right. Give him hell.


BRIDGET: (Looking at dress) I mean, I think it would be quite useful for work.


SHAZZER snorts.


JUDE: No no. There's nothing men hate more than feeling guilty. Not making them feel guilty gets you massive brownie points.


ASSISTANT: (to Jude) That's lovely on you.


SHAZZER: Lovely on her? Are you out of your mind? She looks like a pantomime snake.


A mobile phone rings. Everyone freezes. Then Bridget hurls herself onto her bag and grapples for it.


BRIDGET: Hello? (Beams smugy) Oh hello, Darling.


At the next mirror an emaciated modelesque giantess is trying on tight trousers, accompanied by a very fat friend.


MODELESQUE GIANTESS: (To friend) Do you think they make me look fat?




BRIDGET AND SHAZZER are standing at the MAC counter trying on make-up.


SHAZZER: (giggling) Super thanks! I can't believe you spent the entire week having neurotic hysterics over a phantom pregnancy...


JUDE: ...then when he asks you what sort of week you've had you say...


They are all helpless with laughter now.


SHAZZER: Super thanks!


JUDE: Super thanks!




BRIDGET, JUDE AND SHAZZER are looking through the racks of clothes hovered over by a nervous older woman assistant who knows they can't afford anything.


SHAZZER: So what are you going to say when you see him at the Julian Barnes party?


BRIDGET: 'Oh hello!'


JUDE: No! You have to work out your party objectives.


BRIDGET: What like not getting too pissed?


ASSISTANT: Can I help you?


SHAZZER: They're beyond help, unfortunately.


JUDE: You mustn't talk to anyone for more than two minutes then you say 'I think we're expected to circulate.' And when you're introducing people you have to add a little extra titbit of information to help people get talking.


BRIDGET: Like 'John is a keen hanglglider and comes from New Zealand.'


SHAZZER: Or Daniel is a keen shagger.


JUDE: And comes all over your...


The assistant looks horrified.


BRIDGET: (Giggling) Shh shhhh shhhhh.




BRIDGET takes a big breath and enters a room is full of a scary literary crowd. She spots COLIN from MARKETING and heads for him, realizing only as she arrives that he is talking to Julian Barnes. She hovers.


JULIAN BARNES: The problem with Martin's definition of the novella is it only applies to him -


COLIN: That doesn't sound like Martin. Not! Hahahahaha. Did you want something, Bridget?


BRIDGET: No. (Pauses thoughtfully) I mean yes.  

A pause.  

BRIDGET: Do you know where the toilets are?


BRIDGET exiting through the swing doors. She doubles up in horror hitting herself hard on the forehead.


LATER, BRIDGET takes a big breath and pushes the doors open again. PERPETUA is standing just inside in a group which includes Arabella - insufferable smug Sloane - and Mark Darcy's frightful thin stylish conceited intellectual girlfriend NATASHA.


PERPETUA: I do think people should be made to prove they've actually read the classics before they're allowed to watch them on television.


Everyone roars with laughter.


NATASHA: Oh I quite agree. They shouldn't let anyone watch the World Cup till they can prove they've listened to Turandot all the way through!


More braying. BRIDGET hovers.


PERPETUA: Ah, Bridget. Were you just going to get a drink?


They hold out their glasses. BRIDGET takes them resignedly. We see MARK DARCY observing the background, gorgeous in a suit. He gestures to a waiter who fills the glasses. BRIDGET hands the first to Natasha who doesn't acnowledge her.


NATASHA: So a whole generation only get to understand the giants of literature - your Eliot's your Austen's...


ARABELLA: Richardson?


NATASHA: (Snaps) No I wouldn't include Richardson. When they're channel hopping between Blind Date and Mr. Blobby they think what they're seeing actually is Austen or Dickens.


BRIDGET: Blind Date is on Saturdays.


MARK DARCY smiles.


NATASHA: I'm sorry?


BRIDGET: Blind Date is on Saturdays after Gladiators.


PERPETUA: (Sniggering) Bridget you do realize Middlemarch is a nineteenth century novel not a soap, don't you?


BRIDGET: Actually I thought it was a soap of a shampoo. Anyway the literary masterpieces go out on Sundays.




BRIDGET: Well. There isn't usually anything good like Blind Date on the other side then, so I don't think people would be channel hopping.


MARK DARCY joins the group, BRIDGET stiffens.




BRIDGET: Oh, Mark. Perpetua is...


She freezes.


MARK: Yes?


He and Bridget both look at Perpetua and see the comedy potential.


BRIDGET: Perpetua is my boss and is buying a flat in Fulham and...


She turns to Perpetua.


BRIDGET: Mark is a top human rights lawyer.




NATASHA takes his arm and kisses him possessively.


MARK DARCY: Natasha is a top family law barrister, aren't you darling?


She returns to the conversation, face contorted.


NATASHA: What I resent though, is this, arrogant individualism which imagines each new generation can somehow create the world afresh.


PERPETUA: Oh! Absolutely. I mean, absolutely.


MARK: But isn't that rather a wonderful thing to imagine?


NATASHA: (Face contorting) No no. I'm sorry. I'm talking about the ultimate vandalisation of the cultural framework. I mean if you're taking that morally relativistic, Blind Date is brilliant sort of line.


BRIDGET: Excuse me.


NATASHA looks at her in astonishment.


BRIDGET: I wasn't being morally retavistic. (sic) I just said I liked Blind Date. Though I think it would be better if they made the pickees make up their own answers instead of reading out puns - I'm a chef and you can make my chocolate roulade any day you like.


MARK DARCY laughs.


BRIDGET: I'm not so keen on Gladiators, though, it makes me feel fat. Anyway I think we're expected to circulate. Goodbye.


Daniel, carrying a bottle of champagne slips behind her and puts his hand on her waist as Mark watches.


DANIEL: Jones. (Patting her skirt) What a lovely belt. So what were you doing talking to Mark Darcy?


BRIDGET: I didn't know you knew Mark Darcy.


DANIEL: (Pulling slightly nervously on his cigarette) Yes. Alas. So how do you know him?


BRIDGET: His parents are friends with my parents. We used to play together in the paddling pool.


DANIEL: (Growls) Yes I bet you did, you dirty little bitch. Come on let's go.






BRIDGET: You slept with me - then you didn't ring me for 11 days.


COLIN FROM MARKETING schmoozes up with a very attractive girl.


COLIN FROM MARKETING: Hi. How was the Big Apple? Have you met Vanessa?


DANIEL: Ding Dong. I don't believe I've had the pleasure.


VANESSA: Daniel. We've slept together.


She exits in a huff and COLIN FROM MARKETING hurries after her.


DANIEL: I tried to call but your phone was always engaged.




DANIEL: Come on!




DANIEL: I've bought you a present.


BRIDGET: Oooh, have you? What is it?


MARK DARCY watches as they separate, then leave a few minutes apart.




BRIDGET and DANIEL having fantastic sex.


LATER, BRIDGET lying happily on Daniel's chest.


BRIDGET: Mmmm. Oh that was so lovely.


Daniel lights a fag, puts the telly on, then puts her back on his chest and pats her affectionately.


BRIDGET: Daniel?


DANIEL: What is it my precious?


BRIDGET: What about my present?


DANIEL: (Laughing) That was the present.




MUSIC: Meredeith Brooks, Bitch.


BRIDGET, JUDE AND SHAZZER are sitting round the table which is covered in M&S ready-prepared food. There are mini-break brochures everywhere. Shazzer takes a handful of smoked salmon pinwheels and shoves them down her throat.


JUDE: He says he just wants to be friends now, but he keeps ringing up all the time, then he says, 'Are you going to Michael's party?' and I say, 'Yes.' And he says, 'Well in that case I won't go. No no I was just going to bring this kind of date with me but it wouldn't be fair on you.'


SHAZZER: (Snorting) How dare he give himself licence to treat you anyway he likes under the name of friendship then...


BRIDGET: Friends! Pah! The enemy more like.


SHAZZER: It's a balance of power thing. It's a media bloody conspiracy to make female singletons feel stupid. It's like Fatal Attraction if a woman's thirty six and unmarried then she's going to start murdering other people's husbands and boiling their childrens rabbits.


JUDE: (Eating) Nice pizza!


BRIDGET: Have we run out of Tiramisu?


The phone rings.


BRIDGET: Oooh Goody!


She dives for it.


BRIDGET: Hello? (Disappointed) Oh.




Dad is sitting looking sweetly forlorn in his pyjamas.


DAD: Bridget. Turn on your television set I immediately. Channel Three.




The television screen shows Richard and Judy sitting on a sofa.


RICHARD: And introducing our new Springtime slot - Suddenly Single! A problem...


JUDY: No... an opportunity, Richard.


RICHARD: Being faced by a growing number of women. - Judy!


A diamond at the corner of the screen unfreezes and starts to whoosh into full frame.


JUDY: That's with spanking new presenter Pam Jones - suddenly single herself with lots to say about it!


MUM - on the screen - is dressed in leggings and a striped top thrusting the microphone at a tragic looking women.


MUM: (Sepulchral) And have you had... suicidal thought?


TRAGIC WOMAN: Yes. (Both Mum and the woman burst into tears.) 


The screen unfreezes and wooshes back into to diamond revealing RICHARD AND JUDY on their sofas looking emotionally shaken.


RICHARD: (Pulling himself together with difficulty) And now - skirts for men! Judy!




BRIDGET pissed is still on the phone to Dad.


BRIDGET: You've just got to swing the seesaw, Dad and get back the upper hand with her on the ladder. Yup. Ok. I'll see you on Sunday.


She puts the phone down.


BRIDGET: You're sure I've done the right thing not telling him about Julio?


JUDE: Yup, because the thing is your Dad's problem is lack of confidence so if he finds out before you've built his confidence up for him he'll be doomed.


They all slurp their wine.


LATER: Empty-bottled, full-ashtrayed carnage. The girls are really quite drunk, now. BRIDGET and JUDE are eating and leafing through magazines as SHAZZER rants on.


SHAZZER: In years to come there won't be any men leaving their post-menopausal wives for young mistresses, or pretending to love people in order to have sex with them then behaving like bastards because women will just laugh in their faces and they won't get any sex until they think better of their SHITTY, SMUG, SELF-INDULGENT BEHAVIOUR.


JUDE: (Slurping on wine) Bastards!


BRIDGET: (Lighting a cigarette with the butt-end of the last one) Bloody bastards!


The doorbell rings.


BRIDGET: I bet that's Daniel, the bloody bastard.


She lurches over to the entryphone and picks it up.


BRIDGET: Hello? Oh allright then.


She presses the buzzer and lurches back to the table.


BRIDGET: Yeah it's him. Bloody bastard.


SHAZZER: Culture of entitlement... just think women are there for succour and support and ego massaging and...


DANIEL enters looking fresh and clean shaven carrying eight Tosco Metro carrier bags and three boxes of Milk Tray.


DANIEL: Hello gorgeous. I'm sorry to barge in on you like this but I've been in the board meeting from hell and I so much wanted to see you. I've done a bit of shopping for us for the weekend. Shall I just pop it in the kitchen?


The girls look at each other sheepishly.




TOM is running on the treadmill in a state of high dudgeoun. BRIDGET, in gym kit, is sitting on a machine next to him, flicking through a magazine.


TOM: I mean, Ok. Ok. Maybe the globe wasn't the most flattering shape for evening wear but I mean Joan of areseing Arc. I ask you.


BRIDGET: But you were the runner-up. That's great, isn't it?


TOM: (Peering at his nose in the mirror) Oh, they say it isn't a beauty contest. But I absolutely know if it wasn't for this nose...


BRIDGET: What's wrong with your nose?


TOM: What's wrong with it? Look at it. Sometimes I think I'd do better putting in a really confident dog.


BRIDGET: And you say I'm neurotic and obsessed.


TOM: Aren't you going to work out?


BRIDGET: In a minute. At least Pretentious Jerome came.


TOM: somebody else's ear probably. He left before the end. You doing anything this weekend?


BRIDGET: I'm spending it with Daniel.


TOM: What are you going to do?


BRIDGET: Oh! We'll probably go for a walk on Hampstead Heath. We might go for a mini-break even.


TOM.: Oh God! I do so hate it when things go well for other people.




Couples walk arm in arm on Primrose Hill, a couple snog in a pavement cafe, a couple splash each other in the boat on Regent's Park lake.




The curtains are drawn, DANIEL is sitting on the sofa with hand down Bridget's top, watching football. BRIDGET is looking frustratedly over at a pile of mini-break brochures. The phone rings.


MOTHER O.S.: Oh hello, darling. I thought you'd be outside enjoying the sunshine.


BRIDGET: I'm just going to take this in the bedroom. Daniel will you put it down when I pick up. Daniel!


DANIEL: What? What? Oh. Ok.


She goes through to the bedroom and picks up.


MOTHER O.S.: Have you got someone there, darling?


BRIDGET: Depends if you mean physically or mentally.


MOTHER O.S.: Oh you do say some silly things. Anyway, guess what?




MOTHER: Una's having a Tarts and Vicar's party in the rockery. Imagine! Tarts and Vicars. Isn't that fun! Bridget? Isn't that fun?




MOTHER: So of course, you will be coming along, won't you? Mark Darcy's going to be there!


BRIDGET: Mother. He's a pompous nerd.


MOTHER: You girls are just too choosy to get boyfriends these days.  

BRIDGET: Actually, I've got a boyfriend.


There is a stunned pause.


MOTHER: Well you'll be able to bring him to the Tarts and Vicars then, won't you?




BRIDGET returns and stares despondently at the unaltered scene.


DANIEL: (At screen) Nooooo! Noooo! You stupid fucking bastards from hell. Get us another beer while you're up will you, love?




An array of merchant bankers and their sloaney wives are at end of a dinner party. Amongst them are MAGDA, JEREMY, MINNA and her husband COSMO, a jowly braying nightmare, and BRIDGET.


COSMO: No seriously. Got to get yourself sprogged up old girl.


MINNA: I can't understand why someone like you isn't married. Mind you, I suppose when you get to a certain age, all the decent chaps have been snapped up.


COSMO: God, yes. Office is bloody full of them. Single girls over thirty. Can't find themselves a chap.


BRIDGET: I have got a chap, actually.


JEREMY: Oh really? Tell us more.


COSMO: (Slavering) Getting a bit of a shag, old girl?


MINNA: Is he a toyboy?


MAGDA: (Seeing BRIDGET's face ) Bridge, you wouldn't give me a hand with the coffee, would you?




BRIDGET is sitting at the table smoking. Magda looks nervously at the door and takes a drag.


BRIDGET: I felt like saying because I don't want to end up like you, you fat boring sloaney milch cow and if I had to get into bed with Cosmo just once, let alone every night of my life I'd tear off my own head and eat it.


MAGDA: They're only asking you about your sex life because they're so bloody bored they need vicarious frisson to keep them going.


JEREMY enters.


JEREMY: Oh darling. Are you smoking? You know I hate you smoking. What's happened to that coffee?


MAGDA shoves the pot in his hand furiously, then takes back cigarette and smokes defiantly. JEREMY coughs ostentatiously at the smoke.


JEREMY: Hope this new chap doesn't mind a fag ash lil. Bridget.


He exits. Magda rolls her eyes.


MAGDA: How's it going, anyway?


BRIDGET smiles and nods dreamily.


MAGDA: Lovely weekends together? Walks in the park? Mini-breaks?




Couples walk arm in arm on Primrose Hill, a couple snog in a pavement cafe, a couple splash each other in the boat on Regent's Park lake.




The curtains are drawn, DANIEL is sitting on the sofa with his hand down Bridget's top, watching the football. BRIDGET looking frustratedly over at a pile of mini-break brochures. He leaps into the air.


DANIEL: Yesss! Yesss!


He settles back and tries to put his hand down her top again. She pulls away.


DANIEL: (Still watching the screen) What's the matter with you?


BRIDGET: I'm fed up of this.


DANIEL: Of what?


BRIDGET: It's a lovely summer day and we've been stuck watching the television for two days.


DANIEL: But... what's wrong with that? What do you want to do?


BRIDGET: Go on a mini-break.


DANIEL: (Staring fixedly at the screen again) Fine, fine. We'll go next weekend. Yesss! You find somewhere. Nice Country House hotel. I'll pay.


BRIDGET: It's the Tarts and Vicars.


DANIEL: The what?


BRIDGET: Tarts and Vicars. You said you were going to come.


DANIEL: Well, find a nice Country House Hotel near the Tarts and Vicars and we'll go on there. Oh God not! You stupid fucking pratt!


BRIDGET beams, unable to believe her luck.


DANIEL: Yessss! Yessss!





Solid traffic jam. One car pulls out of the queue and zooms up the hard shoulder. Other drivers do V signs at it.




DANIEL is smirking. BRIDGET is cringing with embarrassment. She looks up at the sky which seems to be clouding over.




It is a grand vine-covered place with sweeping grounds and a lake.




BRIDGET and DANIEL stand at the desk while the uniformed receptionist fiddles around checking them in.


DANIEL: So come on, then. If you can't explain where you stand on the ERM, why do you vote Labour?


BRIDGET: Because voting Labour stands for being Left Wing.


DANIEL: Anything else at all?


BRIDGET: Sharing, kindness, gays and Nelson Mandela.


DANIEL: As opposed to?


BRIDGET: Braying bossy men having affairs with everyone shag, shag, shag then going to the Ritz in Paris with brown envelopes and telling all the presenters off on the today programme.


DANIEL rolls his eyes as the receptionist returns with the forms.


RECEPTIONIST: There we are, Sir. Will you be needing a newspaper in the morning?


DANIEL: Only if you have one with joined up writing for madam. Seems very quiet, are we the only guests?


RECEPTIONIST: We nave a wedding, Sir. There's just one other couple who aren't involved.


He gestures over to where a couple are approaching the double doors. It is MARK DARCY and NATASHA. BRIDGET, who hasn't noticed them approach, gives Daniel a sexy little kiss.


DANIEL: Oh my God.


MARK DARCY: Well. What a surprise.


There is a tense moment. The two of them obviously hate each other's guts.


MARK DARCY: (To Bridget) I take it you're heading for the Alconbury's rockery too.


BRIDGET: (Looking proprietorially at Daniel) Yes.


DANIEL: Well isn't this all going to be jolly? I'll see you upstairs in a minute, darling. Just going to find the bar.




MARK and NATASHA are in a rowing boat both sensibly wrapped Ralph-Lauren style against the elements with a big umbrella. MARK is rowing and grinning rousingly at a peevish NATASHA who looks across sneerily at BRIDGET.


BRIDGET, blue with cold, shivering, wearing a long floaty white dress and a hotel bath towel is sitting opposite DANIEL surrounded by beers cans, who is lighting a fag. The black sky belches forth rain. In the distance is the wedding party on the hotel terrace. BRIDGET trails a hand romantically in the water and suddenly pulls it out to find covered in a gobbit of slime.


Their laughter carries across the water to MARK who watches BRIDGET trying to swap places with DANIEL and wobbling the boat. NATASHA looks poised but boring.




DANIEL and BRIDGET, in dressing gowns, are watching the football with the curtains drawn. DANIEL'S hand is down BRIDGET's dressing gown.


DANIEL: Nooo! Nooo! You bastard fucking Geordie from hell.


He gets up and starts to get dressed.


BRIDGET: Where are you going?


DANIEL: Just going down to get some fags.


BRIDGET: Well why don't you ring room service?


DANIEL: Feel like a walk. See you later.




A chintzy gilt-lamped lounge. MARK and NATASHA are taking tea.


NATASHA: I mean twenty minutes to bring tea, and then he was over-familiar.


MARK: Darling, he made the briefest remark about the weather.


NATASHA: I didn't come here to discuss cloud formations with waiters. Aargh.


MARK has poured a bit of milk on NATASHA's immaculate trouser. She jumps to her feet, brushing at it furious.


NATASHA: Oh for God's sakes, Mark. I've just had these cleaned.


MARK: I'm so sorry. Let me go get you someone.


He rounds a corner to find DANIEL, surreptitiously talking on a mobile. DANIEL sees MARK watching and cuts off guiltily.


DANIEL: Why don't you just go fuck yourself Darcy.


MARK: I think you're rather more uniquely well equipped for that sort of thing, don't you?


DANIEL: Are you calling me a wanker?


MARK: Razor sharp, as ever.




BRIDGET is trying on a bunny outfit trying to pin on her tail front of the mirror. DANIEL bangs into the room in a foul mood then stops in his tracks.


DANIEL: Ding dong! Are you having problems with your tail, my precious? Let me help you.


BRIDGET: Honestly, stupid Tarts and Vicars. I don't want to spend the afternoon with 60 year olds in fishnet tights.


He adjusts the tail.


DANIEL: I'm not sure it's in the right place. Just go over there by the window and let me look.


BRIDGET innocently obliges.


BRIDGET: Do you think this little collar thing looks stupid?


DANIEL: Hmm. Bend over? Mmm.


BRIDGET suddenly clocks.


BRIDGET: You dirty old bugger.


She laughs and starts hitting him. He fends her off then they snog. It is a happy, sexy scene.


Next morning. BRIDGET, dressed as a bunny girl is creeping round the room looking at her watch and panicking. She puts her face very dose to Daniel and stares at him until he opens his eyes.


DANIEL: Gaaaaah!


BRIDGET: I think you'd better get up because we're going to be late for the Tarts and Vicars.


DANIEL stares at her with the expression of an axe murderer than reaches for a cigarette, lies back and smokes it while BRIDGET, head lowered, looks at him in consternation.


DANIEL: I'm not coming.




DANIEL gets out of bed.


DANIEL: Sorry love. It just completely went out of my mind. I've got to write a speech for the Sales and Marketing do.




He goes into the bathroom.


DANIEL: Oh come on, for heaven's sakes. It's just a party.


BRIDGET: But you promised to come.


DANIEL: (Starting to get dressed) Not to squeak, Bridget. I'll drop you off there then you can get a taxi back on my account.


BRIDGET: But you promised to come. And now everyone will think I've made you up.




A bright, sunny day. Lots of cars parked outside. BRIDGET dressed as a bunny girl grumpily walks round the side of the house.


BRIDGET: Honestly. He promised to come. He promised.


She rounds the corner. A buffet table is laid out and there are about fifty guests, none of whom is in fancy dress. The assembled be-two-pieced company gawp at BRIDGET. UNA ALCONBURY bears down on her, bearing a glass jug full of brown liquid and leaves.


UNA: Bridget! Durr! Late as usual. Come along and have a Pimms! Where's your new boyfriend?


She bears her off towards a group of guests which includes a pissed GEOFFREY ALCONBURY.


BRIDGET: (Hisses) I thought it was supposed to be a Tarts and Vicars party.


UNA: Oh dear, didn't Geoffrey call you? Geoffrey, didn't you telephone Bridget?


GEOFFREY ALCONBURY, pissed, lurches towards BRIDGET.


GEOFFREY: How's my little Bridget?


UNA: (Coldly) Geoffrey.


GEOFFREY: Ooh I like your bunny thingy.


He makes a grab at BRIDGET's tail.


GEOFFREY: Where's this new chap of yours, then?


BRIDGET becomes very conscious of MARK DARCY and NATASHA, approaching and staring at her tail.


BRIDGET: He had to work.


UNA: Work? Durrr! That's not a very good excuse is it?


MARK: Hello.


NATASHA: Have you come from another party?


BRIDGET: I'm just on my way to work actually.


MARK hides a smile.


MOTHER, dressed in a bright turquoise two-piece and carrying a video camera and clapperboard bustles past.


MOTHER: Hello, darling. Can't stop. Shooting! What on earth do you think you're wearing? You look like a common prostitute! Aaaaaaand absolute quiet, please! Aaaaand action!


MARK and UNA having a private conversation.


UNA: I suppose I could get her one of Janine's bridesmaid's dresses, but don't you think it's hilarious?


MARK: It's heaven. But maybe not for her.


GEOFFREY and BRIDGET continuing their conversation.


GEOFFREY: Well, we've been hearing all about this chap of yours at the Lifeboat.


MOTHER cringes.


GRANNY potters up and makes a grab at the tail.


GRANNY: Look. Is it a biscuit?


LATER: BRIDGET crosses the lawn dressed in a puff-sleeved floral sprigged Laura Ashley dress accpompanied by a yattering UNA.


UNA: (Loudly to Bridget) I love a floral sprig. Mind you, I don't think much of this Natasha do you? Very much the little madam. Elaine says she's desperate to get her feet under the table. I'll just pop over and get you a Pimms.


She goes off leaving BRIDGET standing alone. MARK breaks off from his group and comes and joins her.


MARK: Can I get you a drink?


BRIDGET: Una's getting me a Pimms.


MARK: Pimms? Leaves with urine, more like.


BRIDGET laughs. UNA approaches with the jug of Pimms.


UNA: (Pouring out leaves) What a shame Bridget couldn't bring her boyfriend. He's a lucky chap, isn't he Mark? Pam says he's one of these superdooperbrainbox book people. What's his name? Darren is it?


MARK DARCY: Daniel Cleaver.


GEOFFREY lurches up, trying to peer down Bridget's cleavage.


UNA: Oh. Is he a friend of yours?


MARK: Absolutely not.


GEOFFREY: I hope he's good enough for our lit-tel Bridget.


MARK: I think I can say again with total confidence, absolutely not.


There is a commotion as DAD appears looking miserable.


UNA: Oh my goodness its Colin. He must be feeling dreadful.


They dash off to greet him.


BRIDGET: (Furious) I suppose you think that was clever.


MARK: What?


BRIDGET: I suppose you think its allright to slag people's boyfriends off snootily to their parents' friends behind their back when they're not even there?


NATASHA bears down on them suspiciously.


NATASHA: Mark, come and tell your mother about those Iranian nomadic rugs we saw in Conran.


MARK: Coming. (To Bridget) Just look after yourself, that's all. I've known Daniel Cleaver for a very long time.


BRIDGET: I think I know Daniel quite well enough, thank you. He hasn't got a snooty bone in his body unlike some people I could mention. And he's absolutely devoted to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to talk to my Dad.




BRIDGET, still in the bridesmaid dress, approaches one of the porches and rings. She waits, rings again then looks up at the window. Daniel looks down. She beams and waves. He disappears. Worriedly, she rings the bell again.


DANIEL: (Through entryphone) I'm just on the phone to the States. Can I meet you in the pub in five minutes?


BRIDGET: (Cheerfully) Ok.


She sets off, realizes it is ridiculous, returns and rings in.


DANIEL: (Through entryphone) I thought I said I'd meet you in the pub.


BRIDGET: I don't want to sit in the pub on my own. Why can't I come in?




BRIDGET: Press the buzzer, Daniel.


More pause, then the buzzer is pressed. Bridget enters, frantically opens the hall cupboards then rushes upstairs, looking all around her for intruders like a TV detective. DANIEL's door is already open.


DANIEL: Well, hello.




They go into the sitting room and stand at opposite sides watching each other warily. Daniel drums his fingers nervously on the desk.


DANIEL: Listen, love. I'm working. I'm really busy. Can't I see you tomorrow?


BRIDGET: Great. Thanks. Whenever you come to my house I'm really nice to you. Aren't you even going to offer me a cup of tea?


DANIEL: A cup of tea. OK.


She watches as he withdraws to the kitchen then frantically starts looking under the sofa cushions.


DANIEL: (He has reappeared in the doorway) What are you doing?


BRIDGET: (Wildly plumping up the sofa cushions and gabbling) Nothing. I just thought I might have left my Joseph skirt in the sofa.


He turns on his heel and goes off to the kitchen. Bridget pauses then follows him, pulling open the hall cupboard on the way, at which an ironing board and boxes of old cassettes tumble out.


DANIEL: What the fuck is going on?


BRIDGET: (Stuffing everything back into the cupboard.) Just caught the door with my sleeve. I'll just go to the loo.


She heads for the bathroom. The door locked, she searches everywhere then flushes the loo and emerges. Casting a look towards the sitting room she heads for the bedroom and starts at a noise. It is DANIEL, straighteing the duvet.


DANIEL: Why are you following me around like a madperson?


BRIDGET: I heard you come in... so I thought (Approaching him seductively) I'd join you.


He puts his arms round her.


DANIEL: I'm very glad you did.


He slides down the zip of her dress.


DANIEL: Mmmm. You're still wearing your bunny outfit underneath this somewhat bizarre dress.


BRIDGET: Mmm. (Still trying to look round the room.) 


The kettle starts whistling. DANIEL ushers her out of the room and shuts the door behind them. As BRIDGET walks ahead of him along the corridor, she spots the door that leads to the roof terrace and hesitates.


DANIEL: (Grabbing hold of her and pushing her) Come and sit down and calm down. What's the matter with you?


BRIDGET: (Flinging herself insouciantly down on the sofa) No-thing! Just a bit tired from the party!


DANIEL: You've got to learn to trust me, you know. We can't get anywhere if we don't have a basic trust between us.


BRIDGET puts her head down, looking stupid.


BRIDGET: (After a pause) I'm sorry. You're right. I'm really sorry. It's just bloody Mark Darcy saying...

She is interrupted by a scraping noise on the roof. For a second they stare at each other, transfixed. Then Bridget Bolts past him and up the stairs to the roof terrace.




A beautiful, tall, thin, bronzed woman is lying stark naked on a sunlounger. Bridget appears, followed by Daniel. The woman raises her head languidly and peers over her sunglasses.


ROOFTOP GIANTESS: Honey! I thought you said she was thin.




MUSIC: Sinead O'Connor Nothing Compares 2U plays under this whole section.




We follow the debris of the room and find BRIDGET lying face down on the bed, sobbing her heart out.




Bridget pours cereal into a bowl. It is washing powder. She opens the washing machine. It is full of Muesli. She stares at it blankly.




A hot day. BRIDGET in summer dress, walks along opening her mail - a leaflet from the mini-break hotel. She stares at it and screws it up. She looks at the array of chocolate croissants in Coin's window.


A trendy woman comes out with a steaming cappucino. She walks on listless and disinterested. She just can't believe it.


BRIDGET V.O.: Monday 27th June. When someone leaves you apart from missing them, apart from the fact that the whole little world you created together just disappears, the worst is the thought that they tried you out and, in the end, the whole sum of parts which adds up to you got stamped reject by the one you love.


She walks on with her head down. There are workmen.


BRIDGET V.O.: Doom. Workmen. I never know how to put my face.


She walks past. They don't react.


BRIDGET V.O.: Yes, you see. Even workmen don't want to whistle at me now.


The workmen suddenly start whistling. Bridget looks pleased and turns round. They are whistling at a pair of 19 year olds with bare, board-like midriffs.




BRIDGET drives up, puts the token in the slot, and drives to the stop bar. Nothing happens. She slumps on the wheel then gets out. The machine starts up, water sprays, and brushes whirl towards her from either side. Just before she gets back to the door they catch her. She gets in and we see her wet, soapy, bedraggled, totally miserable.




BRIDGET and SHAZZER on exercise bicycles, side by side. Bridget cycling so slowly, the machine is almost stopping.


BRIDGET: Shazzie?




BRIDGET: Can we stop now?


SHAZZER: No. You've got to get your endomoprhins going and get back on top.


BRIDGET: You think he went off with the rooftop giantess because I'm fat, don't you?


SHAZZER: Hon, he went off with someone else because he's a Fuckwit. Fuh. Uh. Kuh. Wi. Tuh. Fuckwit. He didn't deserve you.




JUDE is holding a Feng Shui chart in her hand and poking about inspecting things. Bridget is trailing after her miserably. Jude stops in a corner where there is a wastebin beneath a shelf.


JUDE: Well there you are, you see.




JUDE: You've got a wastepaper bin in your relationship corner.


BRIDGET: So that's why it didn't work out.


JUDE: Well... it is important.


Jude removes a candlestick from the shelf.


JUDE: What you don't want is things on their own or anything spikey. Things in pairs or growing things are better.


BRIDGET: So where are you going to put the wastebin?


JUDE: You could have it in your wealth corner. Or family? Career? Faithful friends?


BRIDGET sinks down miserably on the sofa.


BRIDGET: I think you'd better put it in the middle of the room.




BRIDGET looking thin and drawn at her computer. DANIEL is wandering around the office smirking.


BRIDGET V.O.: Thursday August 14th. 6 weeks since breakup. Cigarettes, 0; alcohol units, 0; Calories, 30 approx: fat running away in horror at sheer misery. For first time in 18 years am 8st 7. Is v.g. as can convince self painful Daniel humiliation would never nave happened to new thin me.


The computer flashes up message pending. She presses the button eagerly.


BRIDGET'S COMPUTER: Global Message: Will whoever removed my copy of Kafka's Motorbike, kindly return it immediately. Simon from Marketing.


She makes the message go away and wearily turns to her manuscript.


PERPETUA: Have you been losing weight?


BRIDGET: (Pleased) Yes. Why?


PERPETUA: Hmmm. Thought so. You look about 90. Get some decent food down you for God's sakes.


DANIEL'S SECRETARY: Daniel! Suki on the phone for you!


DANIEL: Chuh! The woman's obsessed.


BRIDGET: (To Perpetua) I'm just going to the loo.


PERPETUA holds out the mobile phone sympathetically.




BRIDGET walking home in sunshine. DANIEL catches up with her.


DANIEL: I've been desperate to talk to you.


BRIDGET: Have you?


DANIEL: Yes. I feel such a shit about the way I've treated you.


BRIDGET smiles to herself. 

DANIEL: The thing is, Suki and I...


BRIDGET: Sukey? Pukey, more like.


DANIEL: I can't explain, it's very special. I'm sorry, love, I know this is going to devastate you, but we're getting married.




BRIDGET is sitting in bed, crying and smoking. Outside it is a brilliant, hot sunny morning.


BRIDGET: I'm just rubbish. Rubbish.


The phone rings she picks it up, dejected.




MUM is dressed, made up and coiffed and putting the finishing touches to some butterfly buns.


MUM: Oh hello darling! I was just ringing to see what you wanted for Christmas. I wondered about a little suitcase with wheels attached. You know, like airhostesses have.








A white room covered in swatches of coloured fabric. BRIDGET is sitting in a white robe with a white towel on her head while an excited Mum and Colour Me Beautiful expert hold swatches up against her face.


MUM: You can't get into a state like this over one silly man, darling. You've got to treat them like domestic animals. If a little puppy misbehaves you don't think its your fault do you? Try it with the Crushed Cerise, Mary.


The COLOUR ME BEAUTIFUL LADY holds a blue swatch up against BRIDGET'S face.


COLOUR ME BEAUTIFUL LADY: It won't work, Pam. She's a Spring.


MUM: She's a winter, Mary. Just try it with that cerise. You see, in my day we had a name for people like that: cads. You've got to wash that man right out of your hair. Right out!


The COLOUR ME BEAUTIFUL LADY holds a cerise swatch against BRIDGET'S face.


MUM: Confidence comes from inside, darling. If you don't think you're absolutely marvellous, how on earth can you expect anyone else to?


COLOUR ME BEAUTIFUL LADY: She is, isn't she? She's a winter.


MUM: What did I tell you?


COLOUR ME BEAUTIFUL LADY: Well you did, Pam and there was me with her down for a Spring.




JUDE is talking on her mobile, SHAZZER is smoking looking tense. BRIDGET, enters, looking stupid in a cerise outfit.


BRIDGET: Hi. Shall we get another bottle?


SHAZZER: I don't think this is quite the moment for getting drunk.


BRIDGET: Why? What? What?


SHAZZER: Tom's disappeared.


JUDE ends the phone call.


JUDE: Rebecca saw him on Tuesday night.


BRIDGET: Tuesday? Where?


JUDE: Ladbroke Grove looking funny.


BRIDGET: What do you mean, funny?


JUDE: With his hand over his face like he'd been beaten up but by the time she'd got the taxi to turn round he'd disappeared. She's left messages but he hasn't rung.


BRIDGET: Hmm. Yes. I thought it was weird because I called him on Wednesday and he didn't ring back and he always calls back.


JUDE: Exactly.


BRIDGET: What about Pretentious Jerome?


SHAZZER: No reply.


BRIDGET: Oh my God. Has anyone rung the police?


JUDE: Simon.


BRIDGET: What did they say?


JUDE: They said it wasn't that unusual for a 32 year old single man not to turn up to a party.


BRIDGET: But anything could nave happened. Has anyone been round?


SHAZZER: Yes Simon got Michael to go round and he rang on the bell for twenty minutes. Nothing.




It's like a very messy war command room, charts, ashtrays, phones ringing. JUDE and BRIDGET are still in their nighties. SHAZZER comes through the door with chocolate croissants and cappucinos.


BRIDGET V.O.: Saturday 3rd November. Starting to feel really panicky whilst simultaneously enjoying being at centre of drama and novel sensation of worrying about something other than self. Am practically Tom's best friend so everyone is ringing me.


Phone rings, BRIDGET picks up.


BRIDGET: (Self importantly) Yes, we've spoken to the police again this morning. If nothing's happened by this afternoon they're going to start enquiries and break into the flat. Ok. Well the phone's very busy but we'll let you know when we can. (Puts phone down) 


JUDE: Bridge?




JUDE: You don't think he's just met someone new and gone on a shagging spree do you?


BRIDGET: No. There's no way he could resist ringing everybody up immediately to tell them.


JUDE: You're right.


JUDE glugs an entire litre bottle of Evian.


BRIDGET: Something's wrong. I just know. We've got to ring the police again.


SHAZZER: I just did.


BRIDGET: What? When you went out? Without telling us?


JUDE drinks a whole litre of water.


JUDE: Do you think that's enough for one day?


She puts down the bottle.


JUDE: Honestly, Shazzer. I think that's a bit bloody much. I noticed he was missing first.


BRIDGET: And I'm his best friend. Well best girlfriend, anyway.


JUDE: Bridget! You put your wastebin in your helpful friends corner.


BRIDGET: So are you saying it's my fault?


BRIDGET puts the bin out of the window on the terrace.


JUDE: What did the Police say, anyway?


SHAZZER: They said they were starting to take it seriously.


There is a long morbid silence.


BRIDGET: Wait a minute.




BRIDGET: I've got his key: his spare key. He left it when he went to Ibiza.


JUDE: Where is it?


BRIDGET: Ummmmmm.




JUDE and SHAZZER walking sepulchrally towards Tom's flat.


BRIDGET V.O.: Saturday: 2pm. Starting to doubt whether really am good friend. We are all so selfish and busy. Would it be possible for one of my friends to be so unhappy, without me noticing that they...


JUDE: I've just thought. What about that MP?




JUDE: With the binliners and the orange in his mouth.


SHAZZER: Shut up.


JUDE: Do you think we should ring first?


SHAZZER rings. No reply.


BRIDGET V.O.: Saturday 2.05pm. Oh God. Oh God. Maybe something terrible and tragic really has happened. Suddenly all stupid worries about men and weight and dieting start to seem shallow meaningless.


BRIDGET opens the door and they go in and climb the stairs in silence.


BRIDGET V.O.: Hmm. Think I'd probably wear by black suit for the funeral. But not a hat. A hat would be histrionic.




JUDE and SHAZZER, puffed on the eleventh flight of stairs. BRIDGET puts the key in the lock and opens the door.


TOM'S VOICE: Who's that?


He appears. The girls cry out. Tom's face is badly beaten in and partly encased in plaster.




She flings her arms around him.


SHAZZER: (Growling) Don't worry, Tom. We'll find the bastard who did this to you.


BRIDGET: What happened?


TOM: (Extracting himself from the embrace) Well actually, I, er, had a nose job.




TOM, JUDE, SHAZZER, BRIDGET, pissed round the kitchen table. BRIDGET fiddling with the answerphone.


BRIDGET: You see. 24 messages all from people beside themselves wondering how you are, including a man called Elsie.


JUDE: How can you let one pretentious git with a name like Jerome...


BRIDGET: ...and who puts talcum down his underpants...


SHAZZER: ...make you think nobody loves you?


TOM: Bridge, did I tell you your looking the thinnest I've ever seen you?




The phone rings. SHAZZER and BRIDGET both dive for it.


BRIDGET: (Gracious) Oh thank you so much for ringing. Yes he's fine. He doesn't want to talk to anyone at the moment. But... Yes, I'll tell him. Thank you for calling. (Puts the phone down.) 


SHAZZER: God, you're ridiculous.


TOM: (Putting his arm round Bridget and slurring) I know we're all psychotic and single and dysfunctional. But it's a bit like a family, isn't it?




BRIDGET is sitting at the computer, looking great and being efficient.




She looks over at him. He looks back, anguished and types.




BRIDGET makes the message go away again and carries on with typing. A message flashes up again.




She makes it go away then types:




She presses SEND. Another message appears.




PERPETUA looks across and reads the screen disapprovingly. BRIDGET gets up and walks poisedly into his office.




BRIDGET sits with her hands folded on her knees. DANIEL is striding around running his hands through his hair.


DANIEL: Every time I look across the room at that underfed little skirt I think what a fucking idiot I've been.


BRIDGET: Really?


DANIEL: The thing is, Suki... gaah I mean. It was just... I'm terrified of committment. My feelings for you were so... overpowering I felt compelled to be unfaithful because I loved you so much.


BRIDGET: So you were so committment phobic you got engaged to someone else.


DANIEL: It took me losing you to realize how much I needed you. I'm asking you to come back to me... I...


The door bangs open and PERPETUA burst in.


PERPETUA: Daniel, you pathetic little pratt. Just because your ghastly, vulgar -money-grabbing fiancee has found someone richer to run off with there's...


DANIEL: I wasn't aware that this had anything to do with you, Perpetua.


PERPETUA: Bridget Jones is worth fifteen of you, Daniel. Now just bloody well leave her alone.


DANIEL: I think Bridget can speak for herself. Bridget (Softly) I've told you what I feel, darling. Now what do you say? Hmmm?


A pause as DANIEL and PERPETUA stare at her expectantly.


BRIDGET: Daniel - you can sod off.




DAD emerges from the changing room, gorgeous in evening dress.


BRIDGET: You see, If you don't think you're marvellous, how can you expect anyone else to?


DAD: Look I'm not wearing this. (Pointing to cummerbund) I look like a member of the Third Reich.


BRIDGET: You need to be more masteful with her. You've got to walk into that Ruby Wedding party looking fantastic with your head held high, and make it absolutely clear you've discovered life is much better without silly Mum bossing you about.


DAD: You are going to come to the party though aren't you? Moral support and all that.




DAD: But why not?


BRIDGET: I'm just feeling a bit low at the moment. And Mark Darcy always makes me feel such a pratt.


DAD: But he's such a nice lad - throwing a party for his parents. He can't be that bad.


BRIDGET: Don't you start. I really don't want to go.


DAD: I can't go on my own. Mum's going to be there and I'm going to feel frightful. Please?




Grand, minimalist Holland Park mansion: magnificently adorned - red hearts, candles - endless staff, smart canapes and champagne. BRIDGET, stunning in evening dress and stupid shoes wobbles down a sweeping staircase into a crowded reception.


She joins DAD who is being flirted with by PENNY HUSBANDS-BOSWORTH. UNA and MUM bear down on her from opposite directions.


UNA: Bit showy, isn't it?


DAD: Don't be absurd. It's a sensational party.


BRIDGET: (Between mouthfuls of canape) Yes. No one's even asked me why I'm not married yet.


GEOFFREY ALCONBURY approaches, pissed.


GEOFFREY: Hello everybodayyyyy! Oopps. Bridget! What's happened to your feller then! Durrr! How are going to get you married off at this rate?


MUM approaches.


UNA: Pam! What do you think of it?


MUM: (Mouthing like Les Dawson) Bit showy. Haven't you got a nice stole to put over your shoulders, Bridget? (She brushes Dad's shoulder) Dandruff! Hello Penny. Is that from the Jaeger Seconds shop? (Taking a canape) Ooh what are these - frogs legs? Urgh.


UNA: Exactly what I said. Didn't I say so, Colin? Showy!


BRIDGET looks round and notices MARK DARCY listening. He strides away, hurt.


MUM: (Whispering to Dad about PENNY) Making a complete fool of herself as usual. What is she wearing!


DAD: Actually, I think she looks scrumptious.


PENNY: Now you naughty 1ittle man! You promised me a dance and I'm going to claim it!


DAD holds up his hands in mock surrender and allows himself to be led away.


MUM: Humph.




Presents are on display. BRIDGET bursts in, with a cup of coffee. She shuts the door leans on it and lights up.


BRIDGET: Oh my bloody God and fuck.


She inspects the presents, notices a terracotta essential oil burner, stares at it curiously, then takes her teaspoon and starts feeding it coffee.


BRIDGET: It works! It's a miracle!


MARK DARCY enters.


MARK: I do hope you're not trying to filch the presents.


BRIDGET: (Gabbling) No no. It's a fantastic party. I'm so sorry about my mother being so rude. Thank you for inviting me.


MARK: Oh I didn't. I think it must have been my mother.


BRIDGET: Great, thanks.


MARK: No, obviously I'm delighted. I'm sorry to hear about Daniel.


BRIDGET: Look. Don't start saying, I told you so...


MARK: I was just trying to warn you. I know what he's like.




MARK: He slept with my wife. Two weeks after I married her.


BRIDGET: Oh, blimey, I see. I'm sorry.


MARK: Oh don't worry... All blood under the bridge. So what were you doing with this, this...


BRIDGET: It's an essential oil burner. I bought it for your Mum.


MARK: Do you regularly feed inanimate objects coffee, as well as waiting for them to ring?


BRIDGET: Well. You know that story that was in the news about Ganesh the Elephant God taking in milk, and it was all to do with terracotta absorbing liquid? I was just seeing if it worked.


MARK: And does it?




MARK: Don't be ridiculous.


BRIDGET: It does work - look!


She demonstrates.


BRIDGET: You see, it's a miracle.


MARK: (Softly) It is indeed: a miracle.


NATASHA appears in the doorway.


NATASHA: Oh there you are. (To Bridget) Not in your bunny girl outfit today, then.


BRIDGET: No. We bunnies wear full evening dress in the winter.


NATASHA: Anyway, come along Marky mummy's dying to meet you!


MARK exits, casting a backward glance at BRIDGET.




BRIDGET is having a fag. Waltzy music drifts out. A figure appears silhouetted against the light of the house. BRIDGET guiltily stubs her cigarette out. The figure - a blonde whippersnapper - approaches unsteadily: another pissed person.


WHIPPERSNAPPER: Hi. Don't suppose you fancy a dance or anything. Oh sorry. (He hold out his hand) Simon Dalrymple. Winchester.


BRIDGET: (Shaking his hand) Bridget Jones. Northampton Comprehensive.


WHIPPERSNAPPER: Yar. Really nice to meet you. So can we have a dance... Please? You see I've never danced with an older woman before. Oh sorry. You know I mean someone who's left school. (Seizing her hand) Would you mind? So I can tell all the chaps? I really would be most awfully, awfully grateful.


BRIDGET: Allright then.


They dance. It becomes obvious the whippersnapper has an embarrassing erection. MARK DARCY appears silhouetted against the house. He watches, then walks towards them.


MARK: I'll take over now, Simon. Come along, back inside. (He holds out his hand to Bridget) May I?


BRIDGET: (Furious) No.


MARK: What's the matter?


BRIDGET: That was a horrible thing to do to a young whippersnapper, throwing your weight about and humiliating him at a formative age.


MARK: (Agitated and hurt) I... How's the... Have you read any good books lately?


BRIDGET: What? Why do you keep asking me that?


MARK: Well, your mother... I mean you're literary, I'm just trying to... Look Bridget. I know you're sort of ridiculous, and your mother is absurd and running around with a dubious lothario, and you've permanently got a fag in your mouth and on the edge of drunk but...


BRIDGET: (Dangerously) Yes?


MARK: I like you. All the other women I know are so... so... laquered over.


NATASHA appears outside the house.


NATASHA: Markeeeee!


BRIDGET: So why are you always so rude and arrogant... I mean, ridiculous? Me? Humph.


MARK: I'm not meaning...


NATASHA: Mark! You've got to come up and sort out the caterers.


MARK: I don't know anyone else who'd fasten a bunny tail to her pants.






MARK: What I mean is I... I like you. Just as you are.


BRIDGET: What about your girlfriend?


MARK: She's not actually my girlfriend anymore. She's just ruthlessly determined. Have dinner with me? Please?


BRIDGET: (Softly) Ok. Ok.


MARK: Coming! I'll call you.


BRIDGET: (To herself) Yeah, right.


He goes back to the house.


BRIDGET: (Thoughtful) Just as I am? Hmmm. I knew there was something funny about him.




BRIDGET is lying in the bath, talking on the phone.


BRIDGET: Yes. The next day! You think I should have said I was busy? Oh God. Jeans, I think. Better go. Bye.  

She jumps out of the bath and wraps a towel round her.


BRIDGET surveying herself in jeans. She glowers, then starts to undo the jeans.




MARK DARCY looks at himself in the mirror, then crossly takes off his tie and shirt and puts a different shirt and tie on.




She is in the little black dress we saw her try on earlier.




MARK DARCY parks his big car and approaches the door, carrying a small, expensive bunch of wild flowers.




BRIDGET is drying her hair which is going wrong.


BRIDGET: Fuck oh fuck. I'm going to have to wash it again.


MARK DARCY ringing the doorbell.


BRIDGET with her head under the shower, not hearing. She applies conditioner.


MARK DARCY ringing the doorbell again.


BRIDGET under the shower, then heading for the hairdryer.


MARK DARCY pacing, looking up, then ringing again.


BRIDGET blasting her head with huge hairdryer, not hearing.


MARK putting a note under the door, chucking the flowers over the wall and returning to his car.


BRIDGET dressed and ready looking at her watch.


BRIDGET: Bastard. Even him.




A busy morning scene full of absurdly trendy Notting Hill-ites. BRIDGET drinks Cappucino with a still-bruised Tom.


BRIDGET: I give up. I mean why go to all that trouble just to humiliate someone? Typical.


TOM: Well maybe there's some logical explanation. Are you sure, just to pluck an example out of the air, you were in the right flat?


MARK DARCY enters, gorgeous in overcoat, and orders take-out at the counter.


BRIDGET: Omigod. Don't look. It's him.


MARK sees her as he exits and stops.


MARK: Hello.


BRIDGET: Where were you on Monday night?


MARK: On your doorstep, ringing your bell, repeatedly.


BRIDGET: Yeah, right. And I was inside so how come I didn't... (She starts to realize what might have happened.) 


MARK: I put a note under the door. I thought you might at least have had the good manners to call. Anyway, I'm late.


He exits.




Mark hits himself on the forehead.


MARK: Rude, I was rude again.




BRIDGET: (Hitting herself hard on the forehead) Fuck. I must have been drying my hair. Fuck.


TOM: Bridget 'One instinctively gets things right' Jones. I'd better go too, hon. Call you later.


He exits and BRIDGET sits in a state of quiet horror.


BRIDGET V.O.: I'm doomed. Someone on high has decided to doom me. And it's nearly Christmas. Another bloody Christmas all on my own.


DAD suddenly appears at her table looking very un-Notting in a car-coat over pale-blue v-necked sweater.


BRIDGET: GAAAAH! What are you doing here?


DAD: My Dear, I'm afraid there has been some rather bad news.




An overconfident girl with hair looking as if she's just taken the curlers out, holding a yappy mini-dog on a lead talks into her mobile.


OVER-CONFIDENT GIRL: I mean, he said if he found me smoking skunk again he'd take away the flat. And I'm like, I mean, like 'fucking hell, Daddy.'


DAD: Apparently she's been having an affair with this, Julio, since the beginning of the year. The worst of it is, the absolutely intolerable thing...




DAD: He carries a gentleman' handbag.


The WAITRESS appears.


DAD: Ah, now. Hello. I think I'll have a coffee - I've already had a cup of tea, this morning back at home! And my daughter Bridget will have...


WAITRESS: (She's in a hurry) Expresso? Filter? Capuccino?


DAD looks hurt.


BRIDGET: Half fat decaf cap, please.


DAD: Doesn't she speak English?


BRIDGET: And a black filter. (To Dad) But what about this money? Who has she taken money from?


DAD: Everybody. Una and Geoffrey, Brian and Mavis. Malcolm and Elaine. For 'Time Shares' which never existed.


BRIDGET: Malcolm and Elaine Darcy? Oh my God. Does Mark Darcy know about this?


DAD: His parents are trying to contact him. We are ruined Bridget. We shall have to sell the Gables to reimburse our friends. And your mother is on the run in Portugal with a common criminal.




BRIDGET comes in from work in her coat, goes straight to the answerphone and dials 1471.


BRIDGET V.O.: Thursday November 19. 9st 6oz; alcohol units 4; cigarettes 17; calories 1,200. Doom, doom. Things could not get worse. Mother is locked up in Portugal. Father is depressed and ruined. Diet has failed. Bank account is empty. Fat love pariah status continues unabated.


The phone rings.


BRIDGET V.O.: Oh goody! Telephone!






JUDE: Listen, I've got some news.


BRIDGET: (Grumpily) What?


JUDE: Have you heard anything from Mark Darcy?


BRIDGET: No. Nothing.


JUDE: Well you'll never guess why. Simon Farrel at work knows someone who works with him. He's been in Portugal.




DAD and BRIDGET are walking through the Arrivals hall.


DAD: I knew there must have been someone pulling strings behind the scenes.


BRIDGET: And is Julio still behind bars?


DAD: Well yes. I gather if they retrieve the rest of the money he might be quite leniently dealt with, which would be a shame. I mean, I don't know how I can ever thank, um, um, Mark. You know, a busy man like him. I think he had some contact in the Portuguese judiciary. There but for the grace of God... You're mother could still be in prison.


BRIDGET: Let's hope it's knocked some sense into her.


They have reached the Arrivals barrier.


MUM O.S.: Richard and Judy every morning. Who shall I put it to? Oh you naughty man!


MUM rounds the corner wearing a policeman's helmet, flanked by two policeman pushing a trolley loaded with straw hats and donkeys, writing an autograph.


DAD: Pam!


MUM looks moved for a split second then recovers her usual poise.


MUM: Oh there you are, Daddy. D'you know I'm dying to get home and put the kettle on. Do you think Una remembered the timer?


They embrace. Mum, giving a coy glance over his shoulder at the policeman.


DAD: Oh Pam.


BRIDGET stares angrily at MUM.


MUM: Hello, darling I've bought you a super handbag. (Kissing Bridget) Have you been smoking?


The policemen take Dad on one side.


BRIDGET: What on earth do you think you were doing?


MUM: What do you mean, darling? It was all some silly-daft palaver over the planning permission. They can be very corrupt these Portuguese authorites, you know. It's all backhanders and backshee like Winnie Mandela. Mark Darcy's been absolutely marvellous. I told you should've made more effort.


BRIDGET: Mother, you're bloody lucky to have a house to go back to.


MUM: Oh, do you know?- I've left two pounds of King Edwards in the vegetable basket and I bet they've sprouted.


DAD: Pam, these gentlemen need you to accompany them to the police station.


MUM: Oh don't be silly, Daddy.


BRIDGET: (To Dad.) Do something with her.


DAD grabs hold of her hard by the shoulders.


DAD: Pamela at this precise moment in time you are still under arrest. Now will you behave like a grown woman and do what I say.


MUM looks at him, astonished.




It is Christmas, twinkly and bustly. 'Chestnuts roasting by fireside' drifts from shops. Pan down the Street ends on EXT Coins coffee bar.


BRIDGET V.O.: Thursday 21 December. 9st 2; cigarettes 19; alcohol units 4 (vg for festive or rather Singleton Torture season)  ; 1471 calls to see if Mark Darcy has called 12 per day approx; no of calls from Mark Darcy 0; no of calls from Mum about airhostess suitcase with wheels attached 4 per day/approx.




JUDE and BRIDGET sitting drinking cappucinos.


BRIDGET: (Brightening)  You don't really think he might have done all that because of me...


JUDE: Why else would he bother? Oh listen, what are you wearing for Rebecca's on Saturday?


BRIDGET: What on Saturday? At Rebecca's? What? What?


JUDE: Her Christmas Party.


BRIDGET: I haven't been invited.


JUDE: But you must have been. Maybe she just forgot.


REBECCA enters.


JUDE: Oh my God. Spooky.


BRIDGET: (Hopefully) Hi.


JUDE: Hi, how's it going?


REBECCA: UGH. I can't stand it when people don't reply to invitations. I mean I've asked about seventy but it could end up anything from forty to a hundred. I saw a bit in the paper about your Mother's boyfriend, Bridget. Are you finding people are being funny with you?


BRIDGET: Oh I think only horrible people would think like that, don't you?


REBECCA: Sorry about Daniel, bye the way. Anyway, bye. I'm meeting Michael in Tesco Metro. He's going to help me carry. So nice to be together at Christmas.


She exits.


BRIDGET: Jellyfisher from the bowels of Satan.


JUDE: You stood up to her, though. Good for you.


BRIDGET: Do you want to come Christmas shopping?


JUDE: Can't, I'm afraid. I should have met Vile Richard three minutes ago in Graham and Greene.


BRIDGET: Are you doing anything tonight?  

JUDE: Romantic present swapping dinner. Sorry, hon. I'll call you tomorrow.


She exits, leaving Bridget alone listening to 'Chestnuts roasting on the fireside'. Suddenly, everyone in the cafe is in moony couples. She brushes a tear away, forcing a smile.




BRIDGET walks along during voiceover. She passes: a single Mum being sweet to her baby; a big flat black woman laughing with one of the crackheads; an obviously gay guy with his arm round a woman much older than him; two girlfriends giggling arm in arm.


BRIDGET V.O.: You see the thing is, you just mustn't let yourself feel sad because positive thinking is a vital thing. People can ask whoever they like to their parties, it is only parties and I can stay in and watch Blind Date. Also just because you have a horrible time with men it does not mean you are rubbish.


She stops and her lower lip wobbles.


BRIDGET V.O.: Even at Christmas. Because, you see, there are lots of ways of loving and being close to different people. Also there is no point worrying about the future because you never know what's round the corner.


She rounds the corner where a big black crackhead drunk with dreadlocks is slouched with a bottle.


DRUNK CRACKHEAD TRAMP: Hey Princess. You want to marry me?


She stumbles. The heel comes off her boot and it starts to rain.




MUSIC: OTIS REDDING, Try a Little Tenderness.


BRIDGET wet and limping, approaches her door.


BRIDGET V.O.: It's not so bad. When you've got friends. Even if it's Christmas and you're never going to find a boyfriend who loves you and your parents are bankrupt. You've got to think positive. Oh fuck.


BRIDGET fumbles in her rucksack and realizes she has lost keys. A big car approaches, MARK DARCY driving. He spots BRIDGET sitting on the step, tipping out the contents of her sack and crying. MARK drives on, watching in the rear mirror.


BRIDGET pulls herself together, sees the hall window is open and tries, unsuccessfully to climb up. MARK stops the car, thinks. Turns round and purrs back towards her. She is trying to slip the lock using lip gloss and and eyelash comb.


At a distance we see him park and approach. She explains. He tries to slip the lock with his credit card and wipes her eyes. He looks up at the window, takes off his jacket, climbs up and gets in. We see Bridget's face, smiling fondly then appears at the door, takes her in his arms and kisses her. Half way through the kiss he notices they are standing on a bulge in the doormat. It is full of letters and cards.  



A happy Christmassy scene. BRIDGET and MARK, post-coital are sitting on the sofa with BRIDGET's legs over his knees. BRIDGET is opening a pile of cards.


MARK: ...and then at that Turkey Curry buffet, when I was dressed from head to toe in hideous festive gifts from my mother, I thought if she said the words Bridget Jones just once more I'd ring up the Sun and accuse her of abusing me as a child with a bicycle pump.


BRIDGET: The bumblebee socks could have doomed us forever.


MARK: Are you really so shallow?




MARK: Look! There's my note. I told you I sent a note.


BRIDGET: Let me read it! Let me read it!


MARK: No way.


They tussle over it. She reads it, smiles and they kiss again.


BRIDGET: I think I'm going to cry.


MARK: I can't believe you didn't think to look under the mat when it had a bulge the size of a penguin in it! (He looks at her nervously) No, sorry, I can believe it, totally. Sort of thing that would happen to absolutely anyone.


BRIDGET: (Sweetly self important) That's better. Keep it up, will you?


MARK: (Adjusting his trousers) I don't seem to have a great deal of choice at the moment.


BRIDGET: Rebecca's invitation! She did want me to come after all.


MARK: Of course she did.


They kiss.


MARK: Come on, we're going to be late. Put some clothes on. Everytime I come round here you're stark naked.


Entryphone buzzes, BRIDGET picks it up.


BRIDGET: Jude. I thought you were meeting Vile Richard.




JUDE, TOM and SHAZZER are shivering in the rain.


JUDE: Stood me up. He's toast. Tom's here as well.


BRIDGET O.S.: I thought he'd gone away with Jerome.


TOM: (Into entryphone) He's decided to spend Christmas in San Francisco. Someone called Steyn with a permanent erection.


SHAZZER: So it's a state of traditional festive emergency.


BRIDGET O.S.: Come on up.




MARK is opening a bottle of champagne and beaming. TOM, JUDE and SHAZZER burst in and gape.


BRIDGET: (Smugly) Merry Christmas, everyone.




Once again, the Turkey Curry Buffet is in full swing. MUM is wearing a policeman's helmet.


MUM: Isn't it super? The Policeman chappie said I could keep it. Charming! Mind you. What a palaver. Ugh! The problem I find with smoked salmon is it repeats on me, especially when I've had a lot of chocolate brazils.


DAD ushers her away from the conversation, removes the helmet and shoves it under the buffet table.


DAD: Listen, Pam. Why don't you start behaving with a modicum of if not shame, at leas decorum?


MUM: Oh don't be a silly willy, Daddy. Everybody's got their money back.


DAD takes hold of her and thrusts her against the wall.


DAD: Will you stop calling me Daddy. I'm a grown man.


She looks at him, taken aback.


DAD: If it wasn't for the good offices of that young man Darcy.


MUM: I told Bridget she should have made a bit more effort with him.


DAD: If it wasn't for him, and Bridget and me, you'd be in jail, and the house would be on the market to pay back our old friends of forty years their defrauded savings.  

UNA: (From the kitchen) Pam! Can you come and look at your gravy! I think it's going to need seiving.


MUM: Of course it doesn't need seiving. Haven't you tried stirring it?


She shoots off gratefully.


BRIAN ENDERBURY: Bridget! Another New Year, and still no feller! I don't know. You must be doing something wrong.


UNA bustles in with a tray of sausages.


UNA: I know, I was just saying to Pam. If she made a bit more effort and didn't dress in these fudges and slurries.


BRIDGET and MARK share a long look across the crowded room. MUM bustles in with a tray of vol-au-vents.


MUM: Bridget! Why don't you see if Mark wants a vol-au-vent?




She walks over to Mark, radiant, gorgeous and flirty, with the tray.


BRIDGET: Would you care for a vol-au-vent?


MARK takes the tray from her and puts it down.


MARK: Thank you, no. Actually, what I'd really care for is this.


He takes her in his arms and kisses her passionately, to assembled gawps.


MARK: And now, if you'll excuse us, Bridget and I are going on a mini-break.


He picks her up in his arms and carries her out.


MUM: You see, I told her if she offered him a vol-au vent...




MUSIC: You've got to give a little, live a little.


MARK carries BRIDGET over the threshold.




MARK and BRIDGET at dinner, she's about to light a cigarette, he makes to kiss her, she stubs it out and kisses him.


BRIDGET against the bedroom door and kisses her.


MARK chucks the champagne in the bin and kisses her.




BRIDGET catches sight of the bathroom scales and jumping on them. MARK comes in, looks at the dial and mimes horror.


MARK: Gaaaaah!


He chucks them in the bin, runs his hands all over her curves, and kiss her.




MUM: He's divorced you know, wife was Japanese, very cruel race. Actually I think it's disgraceful him taking her off like that without being married.


DAD: Pamela. Once and for all. Will you shut up?


DAD flings MUM against the wall and kisses her.


MUM: (Moonily) Oh Colin. My word!