Page 302 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

Monday 25 December

9st 5. (oh God, have turned into Santa Claus, Christmas pudding or similar),
alcohol units 2 (total triumph),.cigarettes 3 (ditto), calories 2657 (almost
entirely gravy), totally insane Christmas gifts 12, number of Christmas gifts with
any point to them whatsoever 0, philosophical reflections on the meaning of the
Virgin Birth 0, number of years since self was Virgin, hmmm.

Staggered downstairs hoping hair did not smell of fags to find Mum and Una
exchanging political views while putting crosses in the end of sprouts.

'Oh yes, I think what's-his-name is very good.'

'Well, he is, I mean, he got through his what-do-you-mer-call-it clause that
nobody thought he would, didn't he?'

'Ah, but then, you see, you've got to watch it because we could easily end up

with a nutcase like what-do-you-mer-call-him that used to be a communist. Do
you know? The problem I find with smoked salmon is that it repeats on me,
especially when I've had a lot of chocolate brazils. Oh, hello, darling,' said Mum,
noticing me. 'Now, what are you going to put on for Christmas Day?'

'This,' I muttered sulkily.

'Oh, don't be silly, Bridget, you can't wear that on Christmas Day. Now, are

you going to come into the lounge and say hello to Auntie Una and Uncle