Page 220 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

4:15 P.M. Manchester.

Number of Dole Youths approached 44, Number of Dole Youths agreed to be
interviewed 0.

Manchester-London train 7 p.m. Ugh. By 4:45 I was running hysterically
between the concrete flower tubs, gabbling.

''Scuse me, are you employed? Never mind. 'hanks!'

'What are we doing, then?' asked the cameraman with no attempt to feign
interest. 'Dole Youths,' I said gaily. 'Back in a mo!' then rushed round the corner
and hit myself on the forehead. I could hear Richard over my earpiece going,
'Bridget . . . where the fuck . . . ? Dole Youths.' Then I spotted a cash machine on

the wall.

By 5:20 six youths claiming to be unemployed were neatly lined up in front of
the camera, a crisp £20 note in each of their pockets while I flapped around

trying to make oblique amends for being middle-class. At 5:30 1 heard the
signature tune bonging and crashing then Richard yelling, 'Sorry, Manchester,
we're dropping you.'

'Urm . . . ' I began, to the expectant faces. The youths clearly thought I had a
syndrome that made me want to pretend I worked in TV. Worse, with working
like a mad thing all week and coming up to Manchester I had been unable to do
anything about the no-date trauma tomorrow. Then suddenly as I glanced across
at the divine young whippersnappers, with the cash machine in the background,

the genii of an extremely morally suspect idea began to form itself in my mind.

Hmm. Think was right decision not to attempt to lure Dole Youth to Cosmo's
dinner party. Would have been exploitative and wrong. Doesn't answer question