Page 230 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

Hysterically I grinned at the camera and dropped myself down, landing, as

scheduled, by the feet of the fireman I was supposed to interview.

'Lewisham, we're out of time. Wind it up, wind it up, Bridget,' yelled Richard
in my ear.

'And now back to the studio,' I said, and that was it.

Thursday 28 September

8st 12,, alcohol units 2 (v.g.), cigarettes 11 (g.), calories 1850, job offers from
fire service or rival TV stations 0 (perhaps not altogether surprising).

11 a.m. Am in disgrace and am laughingstock. Richard Finch humiliated me m
front of the whole meeting flinging words like 'shambles,' 'disgrace,' and
'bleedin' bloody idiot' at me randomly.

'And now back to the studio,' seems to have turned into a new catchphrase in
the office. Anytime anyone gets asked a question they don't know the answer to
they go, 'Errrr . . . and now back to the studio,' and burst out laughing. Funny
thing is, though, the grunge youths are being much more friendly to me.

Patchouli (even!) came up and said, 'Oh, like, don't take any notice of Richard,
right? He's, like, you know, really into control, right. You know what I'm sayin'?
That fireman's pole thing was really like subversive and brilliant, right. Anyway,
like . . . now back to the studio, OK?'