Bridget Jones’s Diary

by Helen Fielding

Perhaps my mother will arrive with a live salmon flipping skittishly on a lead and announce that she is leaving Dad for it.

I am a child of Cosmopolitan culture, have been traumatized by supermodels and too many quizzes and know that neither my personality nor my body is up to it if left to its own devices. I can’t take the pressure. I am going to cancel and spend the evening eating doughnuts in a cardigan with egg on it.

Wish had not been born but immaculately burst into being in similar, though not identical, manner to Jesus, then would not have had to have birthday.