Yes 1600 volts, Salon Selectives, I said proudly. Why?』

So hows my little Bridget? Arent I the lucky one? Look, youre right next to me. Una tells me youve split up with your feller. I dont know! Dun! When are we going to get you married off?』

Markee! she called again. What are you doing down there?』

just once more I would go to the Sunday People and accuse her of abusing me as a child with a bicycle pump. Then when I met you . . . and I was wearing that ridiculous diamond-patterned sweater that Una had bought me for Christmas . . . Bridget, all the other girls I know are so lacquered over. I dont know anyone else who would fasten a bunny tail to their pants or . . . 『

Hi, I said, hoping to make amends for my mothers rudeness. He looked round, completely ignored me and looked back again.

Douglas Hurd? said Mark.

Maybe I would be sandwiched between two of Mark Darcys dishy friends, top barristers or Americans from Boston, perhaps. But as I looked for my name on the chart a familiar voice piped up beside me.

Oh God. How embarrassing. Am complete jerk. 9 p.m. Cannot believe how marvelously everything has turned out. Have just played the Good Afternoon! headlines back for the fifth time.

No, I said, furious.

Ill take over, now, Simon, said a voice.

But youre going out with somebody, I said, rather pointing out the obvious.

Bridget, she yelled. Have you said hello to Mark?

Its a great party, I said. Thanks for inviting me. He stared at me for a moment. Oh, I didnt, he said. My mother invited you. Anyway. Must see to the, er, placement. Very much enjoyed your Lewisham fire station report, by the way, and he turned and strode upstairs, dodging between the diners and excusing himself while I reeled.

Waiting for bloody you, I said between clenched teeth.

I took a deep breath. Actually, I think we should be doing the off-screen romance between Darcy and Elizabeth. He looked me up and down slowly. Brilliant, he said reverently. Absolutely fucking brilliant.

I suddenly realized, cringing, that both Una and Mum must be coming up to their ruby weddings soon. Knowing Mum, it is highly unlikely she will let a trifling detail like leaving her husband and going off with a tour operator stand in the way of the celebrations and will be determined not to be outdone by Elaine Darcy at whatever price, even the sacrifice of a harmless daughter to an arranged marriage.

After got depressed on Friday Jude came round and talked to me about being more positive about things, bringing with her fantastic black dress for me to borrow for party. Was worried that might split or spill on the dress but she said she had lots of money and dresses because of top job and did not matter so not to worry about it. Love Jude. Girls are so much nicer than men (apart from Tom-but homosexual). Decided to accessorize fantastic dress with black tights with Lycra and Light Shimmer (￡6.95) and Pied à terre kitten-heel black suede shoes (have got mashed potato off).

Actually, though, once we all got a few drinks down us conversation was by no means stilted. I was asking the vicar what he thought about the miracle of Indian statues of Ganesh the Elephant God taking in milk. The vicar said the word in ecclesiastical circles was that the miracle was due to the effect on terracotta of a hot summer followed by cold weather. As the meal broke up and people started to make their way downstairs for the dancing, I was thinking about what he said. Overcome with curiosity, and keen, also, to avoid having to do the twist with Geoffrey Alconbury, I excused myself, discreetly taking a teaspoon and milk jug from the table, and nipped into the room where the presents had — rather proving Unas point about the showy element of things — already been unwrapped and put on display.

Anyway, I dont care. Ive got a lovely steamed ginger pudding from M&S to put in the microwave.

Derek! yelled the cameraman out of the window. Get us a Twix and a Lion Bar, will you?』

Hi, said the youth. He lit a cigarette unsteadily and stared, heading down the stairs towards me.

Ill just play it back once more, then Ill definitely put it away.

He slept with my wife, he said. Two weeks after our wedding. I stared at him aghast as a voice above us shouted, Markee! It was Natasha, silhouetted against the lights, peering down to see what was going on.

Mark! yelled Natasha, heading down the stairs toward us.

Dinner was served in the Drawing Room on the ground floor and I found myself in the queue on the stairs directly behind Mark Darcy.

Or if I had to sleep with Douglas Hurd, Michael Howard or Jim Davidson which one Id choose. Actually, no contest, Douglas Hurd.』

Maybe I should write him a note to say thank you for the interview and sorry about the hair dryer.

Actually, nobody got any interviews with her, said Mark Darcy.

Tuesday 3 October 8st 12, alcohol units 3 (v.g.), cigarettes 21 (bad), number of times said word bastard in last twenty-four hours 369 (approx.).

Yes, yes! I said.

Exactly what I said, mouthed Una triumphantly. Didnt I say so, Cohn? Showy.』

I . . . He paused, then started pacing around the patio, sighing and runni九-九-藏-書ng his hand through his hair. Hows the . . . Have you read any good books lately? Unbelievable.

Darcy is an actor. Hmmm. All v. confusing.

Yes! Hurrah! Singletons should not have to explain themselves all the time but should have an accepted status — like geisha girls do, I shouted happily, slurping on my tumbler 0f Chilean Chardonnay.

Hi. Yah. Really nice to meet you. So can we have a dance? he said, reverting to the public schoolboy again.

You forgot the fuckwittage, burped Jude. We always have fuckwittage.』

Yes, I was . . . I said, feeling the first twinges of realization, drying my hair.』

Just then Natasha appeared in the doorway. Oh, hi, she said, seeing me. Not in your bunny girl outfit today, then, and then gave a little laugh to disguise her bitchy comment as an amusing joke.

It is taking in milk, I said indignantly. Look. I put some more milk on the teaspoon, tilted the spoon and sure enough the oil burner slowly started to take it in.

I . . . he began again.

It took me a while to locate the terracotta oil burner, as it had been shoved near the back, but when I did I simply poured a little milk onto the teaspoon, tilted it and held it against the edge of the hole where you put the candle in. I couldnt believe it. The Essential Oil Burner was taking in milk. You could actually see the milk disappearing from the teaspoon..

Um, I said, flailing for an excuse for being so angry. That was a horrible thing to do to a young whippersnapper, throwing your weight about and humiliating him like that at a sensitive age.』

Or a qualified aromatherapist.』

Like what, you mean? I said, childishly, hoping he would say something about sex.

What, at five past eight? When I rang on your doorbell twelve times?』

Mark, I said. If you ask me once more if Ive read any good books lately Im going to eat my head. Why dont you ask me something else? Ring the changes a bit. Ask me if Ive got any hobbies, or a view on the single European currency, or if Ive had any particularly disturbing experiences with rubber.』

Tuesday 24 October 9st 3 (bloody Smoothies), alcohol Units 0, cigarettes 0, Smoothies 32.

Come along. Back inside. You should be in bed now.』

Oh, hi, Im sorry. I didnt see you, he said.

Does not seem like him to be more than half an hour late.

Im bloody sick of this arrogant hand-wringing about single life! roared Sharon.

Yes. I think youve said that, he said, blinking fast. The truth is, he looked rather agitated and hurt.

Im not anymore, actually, he said. Just dinner? Sometime?』

Well, my mother has . . . 『

He stared at me in consternation. But Una Alconbury told me you were a sort of literary whizz-woman, completely obsessed with books.』

11 a.m. In loo at work. Oh no. Oh no. On top of humiliating standing-up debacle, found self horrible center of attention at morning meeting today.

Mmm. Yes. So deliciously strict but fair.』

Oh my God, its a miracle, I exclaimed. How was I to know that was when Mark Darcy would be bloody well walking past? What are you doing? he said, standing in the doorway. I didnt know what to say. He obviously thought I was trying to steal the presents.

Where in the name of arse were you last night? I said. I might ask the same question of you, he said, icily. At that moment the camera assistant burst into the shop. Bridget! he yelled. Weve missed the interview. Elena Rossinis come out and gone. Did you get my Minstrels?』

. . . with millions of men taking you out.』

OK, I whispered. OK.』

doctor, Im thinking what lesbians actually do. Thats it! What do lesbians actually do in bed?』

Una Alconbury?』

Come on! Come on! Rosemary West! Richard Finch was saying, when I got into the office (bit late, actually, sort of thing that could happen to anyone), holding up his fists like a boxer. Im thinking lesbian rape victims, Im thinking Jeanette Winterson, Im thinking Good Afternoon!

Hmmm, said Mark thoughtfully. You say that, but Michael Howards got an extremely attractive and intelligent wife. He must have some sort of hidden charms.』

Keep hoping he might ring me up and ask me for another date after the hair dryer debacle.

Bridget Jones, I said, holding out my hand stiffly, feeling as if I were a member of a war cabinet.

Its not because I fancy him or anything. Simple good manners demands it.

No, no . . . 『

Dont suppose you fancy a dance? Oh. Ah. Sony, he said, holding out his hand as if we were at the Eton open day and he was a former Home Secretary who had forgotten his manners: Simon Dalrymple.』

Last Christmas, Mark went on hurriedly, I thought if my mother said the words Bridget Jones』

8:30 p.m. 9:00 p.m. Cannot quite believe it. Mark Darcy has stood me up. Bastard!

He was pretty impressed, I can tell you. Youre right, he said softly. It is a miracle.』

Anyway, were not lonely. We have extended families in the form of networks of friends connected by telephone, said Tom.

Sunday 15 October 9st (better), alcohol units 5 (but special occasion), agarettes 16, calories 2456, minutes spent thinking about Mr. Darcy 245. 8:55 a.m. Just nipped out for fags prior to getting changed ready for BBC Pride and Prejudice.

After九-九-藏-書wards I thought Id better go home: what with Natasha watching my every move as if she were a crocodile and I was getting a bit near to her eggs, and me having given Mark Darcy my address and phone number and having fixed to see him next Tuesday. On my way through the dancing room I saw Mum, Una and Elaine Darcy chatting animatedly to Mark — couldnt help imagining their faces if they knew what had just gone on. I suddenly had a vision of next years Turkey Curry Buffet with Brian Enderby hitching up the waistband of his trousers going, Harumph. Nice to see the young people enjoying themselves, isnt it? and Mark Darcy and me forced to do tricks for the assembled company, like rubbing noses or having sex in front of them, like a pair of performing seals.

7:30 p.m. Complete panic stations. Mark Darcy is coming over to pick me up in half an hour. Just got home from work with mad hair and unfortunate laundry crisis outfit on. Help oh help. Was planning to wear white 501s but suddenly occurs to me he may be the type who will take me to a posh scary restaurant. Oh God, do not have anything posh to wear. Do you think he will expect me to put bunny tail on? Not that Im interested in him or anything. 7:50 p.m. Oh God oh God. Still have not washed hair. Will quickly get into bath.

Oh, dont be absurd, Una. Its a sensational party, said my father, helping himself to his nineteenth canapé.

You see, I said proudly. Its a miracle.』

Hard to believe there are so many cars out on the roads. Shouldnt they be at home getting ready?

Oooh, I purred.

That would be unnatural and wrong and I would quickly lose interest. 10:30 a.m. Jude just called and we spent twenty minutes growling, Fawaw, that Mr. Darcy. I love the way he talks, sort of as if he cant be bothered. Ding-dong! Then we had a long discussion about the comparative merits of Mr. Darcy and Mark Darcy, both agreeing that Mr. Darcy was more attractive because he was ruder but that being imaginary was a disadvantage that could not be overlooked.

Urn, well . . . I mumbled.

Shut up, Bridge, slurred Tom. Youre drunk. Youre just trying to escape from your yawning emotional hole into drunk.』

So where were you last night? asked Mark Darcy.

I suppose you did try to warn me, I muttered sulkily. What have you got against him, anyway?』

I heard about Daniel. Im sorry.』

Big hair dryer? he said.

Well, I dont know, Im sure, I said, reverting to pissed floozy and giving an involuntary raucous laugh like a prostitute in a Yates Wine Lodge.

Maybe you should get a quieter hair dryer or begin your toilette a little earlier. Anyway. Come on, he said laughing. Get your cameraman ready, Ill see what I can do for you.』

Right, Bridget, said Richard Finch. Im going to give you another chance. The Isabella Rossellini trial. Verdict expected today. We think shes going to get off. Get yourself down to the High Court. I dont want to see you climbing up any poles or lampposts. I want a hardheaded interview. Ask her if this means its OK for us all to murder people every time we dont fancy having sex with them. What are you waiting for, Bridget? Off you go. I had no idea, not even a glimmer of a clue as to what he was talking about. You have noticed the Isabella Rossellini trial, havent you? said Richard. You do read the papers, occasionally? The trouble with this job is that people keep flinging names and stories at you and you have a split second to decide whether or not to admit you have no idea what theyre talking about, and if you let the moment go then youll spend the next half hour desperately flailing for clues to what it is you are discussing in depth and at length with a confident air: which is precisely what happened with Isabella Rossellini. And now I must set off to meet scary camera crew at the law courts in five minutes to cover and report on a story on the television without having the faintest idea what it is about.

Friday 6 October 9st. (comfort eating), alcohol units 6 (drink problem), lottery tickets 6 (comfort gambling), 1471 calls to see if Mark Darcy has rung 21 (curiosity only, obviously), number of times watched video 9 (better).

8:00 p.m. Drying hair now. V. much hope Mark Darcy is late as do not want him to find me in dressing gown with wet hair. 8:05 p.m. Hair is more or less dry now. Then just have to do makeup, get dressed and put mess behind sofa. Must prioritize. Consider makeup most important, then mess disposal. 8:15 p.m. Still not here. V.g. Keen on a man who comes round lace, in stark contrast to people who come round early, startling and panicking one and finding unsightly items still unhidden in the home. 8:20 p.m. Well, pretty much ready now. Maybe will put something different on. This is weird.

I glanced around nervously and jumped in fright. There, looking at us, not three feet away, was Mark Darcy. He must have heard everything. I opened my mouth to say something — Im not quite sure what — to try to improve matters, but he walked away.

Cohn Firth and Jennifer Ehle, I said.

Our home news correspondent. Bridget Jones, brings you this exclusive report. I love that bit: Our home newsrｅａd•９9ｃsｗ•ｃom correspondent, Bridget Jones, brings you this exclusive report.』

Did she? I said, rather pleased by the idea suddenly. What else did she tell you?』

Bit showy, isnt it? said Una the second she was within earshot, pulling her stole huffily around her shoulders. I think if you take these things too far it gets a bit common.』

Oh, dont be ridiculous, he said, laughing.

Sunday 1 October 8st 11, cigarettes 17, alcohol units 0 (u.g., esp for party). 4 a.m. Startling. One of the most startling evenings of life.

Theyre young, ambitious and rich but their lives hide an aching loneliness . . . When they leave work a gaping emotional hole opens up before them . . . Lonely style-obsessed individuals seek consolation in packeted comfort food of the kind their mother might have made. Huh. Bloody nerve. How does Mrs. Smug Married-at-twenty-two think she knows, thank you very much? Im going to write an article based on dozens of conversations with Smug Marrieds: When they leave work, they always burst into tears because, though exhausted, they have to peel potatoes and put all the washing in while their porky bloater husbands slump burping in front of the football demanding plates of chips. On other nights they plop, wearing unstylish pinnies, into

Had shock on arrival at the party as Mark Darcys house was not a thin white terraced house on Portland Road or similar as had anticipated, but huge, detached wedding cake-style mansion on the other side of Holland Park Avenue (where Harold Pinter, they say, lives) surrounded by greenery. He had certainly gone to town for his mum and dad. All the trees were dotted with red fairy lights and strings of shiny red hearts in a really quite endearing manner and there was a red and white canopied walkway leading all the way up the front path. At the door things began to look even more promising as we were greeted by serving staff who gave us champagne and relieved us of our gifts (I had bought Malcolm and Elaine a copy of Perry Como love songs from the year they were married, plus a Body Shop Terracotta Essential Oil Burner as an extra present for Elaine as she had been asking me about Essential Oils at the Turkey Curry Buffet). Next we were ushered down a dramatic curved pale wood stairway lit by red heart-shaped candles on each step. Downstairs was one vast room, with a dark wood floor and a conservatory giving onto the garden. The whole room was lit by candles. Dad and I just stood and stared, completely speechless. Instead of the cocktail fancies you would expect at a parent-generational do —compartmentalized cut-glass dishes full of gherkins; plates sporting savory doilies and half grapefruits bespined with cheese-and-pineapple-chunk-ladened.toothpicks — there were large silver trays containing prawn wontons, tomato and mozzarella tartlets and chicken sate. The guests looked as though they couldnt believe their luck, throwing their heads back and roaring with laughter. Una Alconbury looked as though she had just eaten a lemon. Oh dear, said Dad, following my gaze, as Una bore down on us. Im not sure this is going to be Mummy and Unas cup of tea.』

I dont want to be asked out to dinner just because your mum wants you to. Anyway, what would we talk about? Youd just ask me if Ive read any good books lately and then Id have to make up some pathetic lie and — 『

Showy, whispered Mum, exaggerating her lip movements like Les Dawson.

Friday 13 October 9st 3 (but have temporarily turned into wine bag), alcohol units 0 (but feeding off wine bag), calories 0 (v.g.).* *Actually might as well be honest here. Not really v.g. as only 0 because puked up 5876 calories immediately after eating. Oh God, Im so lonely. An entire weekend stretching ahead with no one to love or have fun with.

Thursday 12 October 9st 1 (bad), alcohol Units 3 (both healthy and normal), cigarettes 13,fat Units 17 (wonder if its possible to calculate fat unit content of entire body? I hope otherwise), lottery tickets 3 (fair), 1471 calls to see if Mark Darcy has rung 12 (better). Humph. Incensed by patronizing article in the paper by Smug Married journalist. It was headlined, with subtle-as-a-Frankie-Howerd-sexual-innuendo-style irony: The Joy of Single Life.』

Thursday 5 October 8st 13. (bad), chocolate items 4 (bad), number of times watched video 17 (bad).

I mean out here. Just for a moment. I hesitated. I was flattered, to tell you the truth. What with this and performing a miracle in front of Mark Darcy it was all starting to go to my head.

Suddenly, he was looking straight at me. Do you know? Everyone stared at me. Come on, Bridget-fucking- late-again, he shouted impatiently. What do lesbians actually do in bed?

Well, sos bloody well Shazzer, I said sulkily.

Suddenly I realized what was going on. Its your mum, isnt it?』

Will you have dinner with me, Bridget? he said abruptly, and rather crossly, as if he was going to sit me down at a table somewhere and tell me off. I stopped and stared at him. Has my mum put you up to this? I said, suspiciously.

You, my darling, he said to one of my breasts, are an absolute fucking genius. I always 九_九_藏_書hoped I would turn out to be a genius, but I never believed it would actually happen to me — or my left breast.

Humph. As he reached the top of the stairs, Natasha appeared in a stunning gold satin sheath, grabbing his arm possessively and, in her haste, tripping over one of the candles which spilled red wax on the bottom of her dress. Fack, she said. Fack. As they disappeared ahead I could hear her telling him off. I told you it was ridiculous spending all afternoon arranging candles in dangerous places for people to fall over. Your time would have been far better spent ensuring that the placement was . . . Funnily enough, the placement turned out to be rather brilliant. Mum was sitting next to neither Dad nor Julio but Brian Enderby, whom she always likes to flirt with. Julio had been put next to Mark Darcys glamorous fifty-five-year-old aunt, who was beside herself with delight. My dad was pink with pleasure at sitting next to a stunning Faye Dunaway look-alike. I was really excited.

Is not, said Sharon. Yous blurr are, I said.

Mark had thoughtfully put me between Geoffrey Alconbury and the gay vicar.

Then, noticing his baffled expression, I gabbled on. Though I do appreciate your asking me to your party. Marvelous. Thank you very much. Fantastic party.』

Please, pressed Simon. Ive never danced with an older woman before. Oh, gosh, Im sorry, I didnt mean . . . he went on, seeing my face. I mean, someone whos left school, he said, seizing my hand passionately. Would you mind? Id be most awfully, awfully grateful. Simon Dalrymple had obviously been taught ballroom dancing from birth, so it was rather nice being expertly guided to and fro, but the trouble was, he seemed to have, well, not to put too fine a point on it, the most enormous erection Ive ever had the good fortune to come across, and us dancing so close it was not the sort of thing one could pass off as a pencil case.

Speechless, I grabbed the edge of the sweet counter for support. Missed it? I said as soon as I could steady my breathing. Missed it? Oh God. This was my last chance after the firemans pole and I was buying sweets. Ill be sacked. Did the others get interviews?』

Love the nation being so addicted. The basis of my own addiction, I know, is my simple human need for Darcy to get off with Elizabeth. Tom says football guru Nick Hornby says in his book that mens obsession with football is not vicarious. The testosterone-crazed fans do not wish themselves on the pitch, claims Hornby, instead seeing their team as their chosen representatives, rather like parliament. That is precisely my feeling about Darcy and Elizabeth. They are my chosen representatives in the field of shagging, or, rather, courtship. I do not, however, wish to see any actual goals. I would hate to see Darcy and Elizabeth in bed, smoking a cigarette afterwards.

May I? said Mark, holding out his hand to me.

No, no, Im fine, I said. Sure? she stared at me for a moment. Listen, right, you realize he didnt mean Isabella Rosselli at the meeting, didnt you? Hes thinking of Elena Rossini, right. Oh, thank God and all his angels in heaven above. Elena Rossini is the childrens nanny accused of murdering her employer after he allegedly subjected her to repeated rape and effective house arrest for eighteen months. I grabbed a couple of newspapers to bone up and ran for a taxi. 3 p.m. Cannot believe what just happened. Was hanging around outside the High Court for ages with the camera crew and a whole gang of reporters all waiting for the trial to end. Was bloody good fun, actually. Even started to see the funny side of being stood up by Mr. Perfect Pants Mark Darcy. Suddenly realized Id run out of cigarettes. So I whispered to the cameraman, who was really nice, if he thought it would be OK if I nipped to the shop for five minutes and he said it would be fine, because youre always given warning when theyre about to come out and theyd come and get me if it was about to happen. When they heard I was going to the shop, a lot of reporters asked me if Id bring them fags and sweets and so it took quite a while working it all out. I was just standing in the shop trying to keep all the change separate with the shopkeeper when this bloke walked in obviously in a real hurry and said. Could you let me have a box of Quality Street? as if I wasnt there. The poor shopkeeper looked at me as if not sure what to do. Excuse me, does the word queue mean anything to you? I said in a hoity-toity voice, turning around to look at him. I made a weird noise. It was Mark Darcy all dressed up in his barrister outfit. He just stared at me, in that way he has.

big black holes after their husbands have rung to say theyre working late again, with the sound of creaking leatherware and sexy Singletons tittering in the background. Met Sharon, Jude and Tom after work. Tom, too, was working on a furious imaginary article about the Smug Marrieds gaping emotional holes.

Huh.』

It was Mark Darcy.

What a lovely house. Havent you got a nice stole to put over your shoulders, Bridget?

Hi, I said again and poked him.

11:05 a.m. Thank God for Patchouli. Just camhttps://read.99csw.come out of the toilet and she was being pulled along by Richards dogs straining at the leash. Are you OK? she said. You look a bit freaked out.』

9 p.m. Humph. Left a message for Mum yesterday to tell her all about my scoop so when she rang tonight I assumed it would be to congratulate me, but no, she was just going on about the party. It was Una and Geoffrey this, Brian and Mavis that and how marvelous Mark was and why didnt I talk to him, etc., etc.? Temptation to tell her what happened almost overwhelming but managed to control myself by envisaging consequences: screaming ecstasy at the making of the date and brutal murder of only daughter when she heard the actual outcome.

Look. Shuddup, said Jude, burping again. Shagernothebol Chardonnay?』

Actually we bunnies wear these in the winter for warmth, I said.

Their influence affects everything from the kind of houses being built to the kind of food that stocks the supermarket shelves, Toms appalled article was going to rant. Everywhere we see Anne Summers shops catering to housewives trying pathetically to simulate the thrilling sex enjoyed by Singletons and ever-more exotic foodstuffs in Marks and Spencer for exhausted couples trying to pretend theyre in a lovely restaurant like the Singletons and dont have to do the washing up.』

What do you think, Pam? hissed Una tensely, nodding at the room.

On marvelous roll with work. Ever since Elena whatserface interview, seems can do no wrong.

Mmm? he said. The Essential Oil Burner I bought your mother is taking in milk, I muttered sulkily.

OK. The actors who play Darcy and Elizabeth? Come on, come on, he said, boxing at the meeting.

Simon looked completely crushed. He blushed scarlet and hurried back into the party.

I paused to think up something very witty and cutting to say, but unfortunately couldnt think of anything. So after a bit of a stupid pause I said, Anyway, Im sure youre longing to circulate. Nice to see you again. Byee! I decided I needed to go outside for a little fresh air and a fag. It was a wonderful, warm, starry night with the moon lighting up all the rhododendron bushes. Personally, I have never been keen on rhododendrons. They remind me of Victorian country houses up north from D. H. Lawrence where people drown in lakes. I stepped down into the sunken garden. They were playing Viennese waltzes in a rather smart fin de millennium sort of way. Then suddenly I heard a noise above. A figure was silhouetted against the French windows. It was a blond adolescent, an attractive public schoolboy-type.

Because I was defending her, and I told her not to give any, he said casually. Look, shes out there in my car. As I looked, Elena Rossini put her head out of the car window and shouted in a foreign accent, Mark, sorry. You bring me Dairy Box, please, instead of Quality Street? Just then our camera car drew up.

Or a fantastically skillful potter.』

Geisha girls? said Sharon. looking at me coldly.

Well . . . 『

Well I hope, when we do, I shall be the one to do the deed, said a voice on my other side. I could do with a new vimper. Mmm. Apricot silk. Or maybe a nice thirty-nine-button souterne from Gamirellis.』

He might be a good shag, I suppose, I supplied.

Didnt they? I said, looking up at him desperately. But how do you know?』

Humph, said Una. Mum too was now bearing down on us.

Whats the matter?』

John Rocha? she said, staring at Judes dress. Last autumn? I recognize the hem.』

Monday 23 October 9st 2 alcohol units 0 (v.g. Have discovered delicious new alcohol substitute drink called Smoothies-v. nice, fruity), cigarettes 0 (Smoothies removes need for cigarettes), Smoothies 22, calories 4265 (4135 of them Smoothies). Ugh. Just about to watch Panorama on The trend of well-qualified female breadwinners — stealing all the best jobs (one of which I pray to the Lord in Heaven Above and all his Seraphims I am about to become): Does the solution lie in redesigning the educational syllabus? When I stumbled upon a photograph in the Standard of Darcy and Elizabeth, hideous, dressed as modem-day luvvies, draped all over each other in a meadow: she with blond Sloane hair, and linen trouser suit, he in striped polo neck and leather jacket with a rather unconvincing moustache. Apparently they are already sleeping together. That is absolutely disgusting. Feel disorientated and worried, for surely Mr. Darcy would never do anything so vain and frivolous as to be an actor and yet Mr.

Mmm. I agree, I said through a mouthful of tartlet, as my champagne glass was filled as if from nowhere, s bloody fantastic. After psyching myself up for so long for Jaeger two-piece hell, I was euphoric. No one had even asked me why I wasnt married yet.

Hold hard there, big feller, said my dad, squeezing my arm.

And a Good Afternoon! exclusive, it says. Good Afternoon!: the only television program to bring you an exclusive interview with Elena Rossini, just minutes after todays not guilty verdict.

No . . . I . . . 『

Dandruff! trilled Mum, brushing Dads back. Now, darling. Why on earth arent you talking to Mark?』

Well, that youre a radical feminist and have an incredibly glamorous life . . . 『