Page 48 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

Wednesday 1 February

9 st, alcohol units 9, cigarettes 28 (but will soon give up for Lent so might as
well smoke self into disgusted smoking frenzy), calories 3826.

Spent the weekend struggling to remain disdainfully buoyant after the Daniel
fuckwittage debacle. I kept saying the words, 'Self-respect' and 'Huh' over and
over till I was dizzy, trying to barrage out, 'But I lurrrve him.' Smoking was v.
bad. Apparently there is a Martin Amis character who is so crazily addicted that
he starts wanting a cigarette even when he's smoking one. That's me. It was good
ringing up Sharon to boast about being Mrs Iron Knickers but when I rang Tom

he saw straight through it and said, 'Oh, my poor darling,' which made me go
silent trying not to burst into self-pitying tears.

'You watch,' warned Tom. 'He'll be gagging for it now. Gagging.'

'No, he won't,' I said sadly. 'I've blown it.'

On Sunday went for huge, lard-smeared lunch at my parents'. Mother is bright
orange and more opinionated than ever having just returned from week in
Albufeira with Una Alconbury and Nigel Coles' wife, Audrey.

Mum had been to church and suddenly realized in a St Paul-on-road-to-
Damascus-type blinding flash that the vicar is gay.

'It's just laziness darling,' was her view on the whole homosexuality issue.
'They simply can't be bothered to relate to the opposite sex. Look at your Tom. I
really think if that boy had anything about him he'd be going out with you
properly instead of all this ridiculous, "friends" nonsense.