Page 134 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

thing I've ever heard anyone say about a woman. Arrogant little prat! How dare

he give himself license to treat you any way he likes under the name of
friendship, then make himself feel clever by trying to upset you with his stupid
new date. If he really minded about not hurting your feelings he'd just shut up
and come to the party on his own instead of waving his stupid date under your
nose.'

''Friends?' Pah! The Enemy more like!' I shouted happily, tucking into another
Silk Cut and a couple of salmon pinwheels. 'Bastard!'

By 11:30 Sharon was in full and splendid auto-rant.

'Ten years ago people who cared about the environment were laughed at as

sandal-wearing beardy-weirdies and now look at the power of the green
consumer,' she was shouting, sticking her fingers into the tiramisu and
transferring it straight into her mouth. 'In years ahead the same will come to pass
with feminism. There won't be any men leaving their families and
postmenopausal wives for young mistresses, or trying to chat women up by
showing off in a patronizing way about all the other women throwing themselves

at them, or trying to have sex with women without any niceness or commitment,
because the young mistresses and women will just turn around and tell them to
sod off and men won't get any sex or any women unless they learn how to
behave properly instead of cluttering up the sea-bed of women with their
SHITTY, SMUG, SELF-INDULGENT, BEHAVIOR!'

'Bastards!' yelled Jude, slurping her Pinot Grigio.

'Bastards,' I yelled through a mouthful of raspberry pavlova mixed with
tiramisu.

'Bloody bastards!' shouted Jude, lighting a Silk Cut with the butt end of the

last one.

Just then the doorbell rang.

'I bet that's Daniel, the bloody bastard,' I said. 'What is it?' I yelled into the