Page 143 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

cue card.

'Someone I know might see. Anyway, won't they notice I'm your daughter?'

There was a pause. I could hear her talking to someone in the background.
Then she came back and said, 'We could blot out your face.'

'What? Put a bag over it?' Thanks a lot.

'Silhouette, darling, silhouette. Oh, please, Bridget. Remember, I gave you the
gift of life. Where would you be without me? Nowhere. Nothing. A dead egg. A

piece of space, darling.'

The thing is I've always, secretly, rather fancied being on television.

Saturday 20 May

9st 3 (why? Why? from where?), alcohol units 7 (Saturday), cigarettes 17
(positively restrained, considering), number of correct lottery numbers 0 (but v.
distracted by filming).

The crew had trodden a couple of wine glasses into the carpet before they'd been

in the house thirty seconds, but I'm not too fussed about that sort of thing. It was
when one of them staggered in shouting, 'Mind your backs,' carrying an
enormous light with flaps on it, then bellowed, 'Trevor, where do you want this
brute?' overbalanced, crashed the light through the glass door of the kitchen