Another year, a brand new diary.
Once again I was summoned, kicking and screaming,
to my mother's turkey curry buffet,
where I've had some of the most shaming experiences of my life.
Hello, darling.
Lovely to see you.
It was, as usual, crammed full
with some of the most dangerous perverts in the UK,
disguised as close, personal friends of my parents.
- Hello, Bridget. - Hello, Una.
- Oh, no, thanks. - Love the jumper.
- I prefer what's underneath it. - Uncle Geoffrey!
- Hello, gorgeous. - Hello.
- Hello, darling. - Hello, Dad. How's it going?
I wish I was dead.
But this year, there was one crucial difference.
- Nice jumper. - My mother's taste never falters.
Never.
You always wonder how it's going to work out at the end of the story.
Maria and Captain Von Trapp,
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,
Mark Darcy and Bridget Jones.
I've found my happy ending at last.
And nothing in the world can spoil it.
Well, almost nothing.
Bridget Jones, what the fuck are you doing?
- I, I can't see anywhere soft to land. - How about on your arse?
Bridget, unless you want to get sacked at 6,000 feet,
you will be on your way in exactly three seconds.
Three, two, one... cue Bridget.
Skydiving:
A dangerous bane to the countryside and emergency services,
or a safe and exhilarating hobby?
Well... let's see, shall we?
Go. Jump.
For Ohrist's sakes, go!
- She's out. Unit Two, you got her? - We see her.
Bridget, open the chute.
Open it.
Open your fucking parachute!
Pull the thingy or you will die!
Oh.
Honestly, you forget just one teeny, weeny detail
and everyone treats you like an idiot.
# Nobody does it better
# Makes me feel sad for the rest
# Nobody does it
# Half as good as you
# Baby, baby
# Darling, you're the best
# Baby, you're the best...
Where was I? Oh, yes... Mark Darcy.
The question is: What happens after you walk off into the sunset?
Bridget? Earth to Bridget Sodding Jones.
Bridget, you're on. You're live.
Well, this is Bridget Jones for Sit Up Britain,
reporting to you from a big vat of excrement.
Give me a close-up of the porker.
Who cares about the odd professional hiccup?
I've been in a functional relationship
with an adult male for six wonderful weeks,
four fabulous days and seven precious hours.
Or to put it another way, 71 ecstatic shags.
He's given up being snooty, and I've given up smoking.
- # Loving you... - Well, he thinks I have anyway,
which is practically the same thing.
#... a dream come true...
Mark Darcy is perfect.
Not a fuckwit, alcoholic, workaholic, pervert or megalomaniac,
but total sex god and human rights lawyer.
He is a miracle, really.
Bridget, will you stop?
Stop staring at me. Go and find something to do.
Sorry.
# La la la la la...
So, as you can see, the incredible truth is
the wilderness years are over.
Bridget Jones is a love pariah no more.
Morning, Bridget. Late again.
Yes. Sorry.
I was in bed with my boyfriend.
He's a human rights lawyer, you know.
Yes, we know.
I cannot believe how fantastic shagging was last night.
Maybe I'll ring him.
No, no...
Obviously it's important to tell one's boyfriend how nice he looks naked,
but I have crucial, Pulitzer Prize winning journalism to do.
Hello?
It's me. Just wondered how you are.
I'm fine, thanks. Everything all right with you?
Fine, though, er...
I've just had a rather graphic shag flashback.
And you do have a genuinely gorgeous bottom.
Thank you.
I'm with the Mexican ambassador, the head of Amnesty International
and the Undersecretary for Trade and Industry.
And you're on speakerphone.
Oh. Right, well...
I'm quite busy with important stuff too...
Bridget, we're waiting for that tape about Tom, the happy hamster.
- I'll call when I've finished. - Excellent.
And Richard wants to see you about that crap skydiving report.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, dear. Is this the end of my career?
No, it can't be.
I will fight this. I am a journalist of the highest standards and integrity.
This is Bridget Jones reporting to you from a big vat of excrement.
Look, I never said I could skydive and I'm terrified of heights,
- so it was really hard to concentrate. - Be quiet. They loved it upstairs.
Loved it. And they want us to come up with another regular spot for you.
Oh, my God. That's...
- I won't let you down, Richard. - Precisely.
...my friends'motto was "When in Rome, do as many Romans as you can."
But if your tastes are marginally more highbrow, I also have tips.
Forget the Forum, definitely forget the Coliseum,
no fun now they can't slaughter Christians any more.
Forget the Sistine Chapel, first example of a poof interior designer gone mad...
What is Daniel Oleaver doing on the television?
It's called The Smooth Guide. "Making culture bearable".
...equally serene and equally beautiful Professore Giovana Dabrache.
Who is about to show me her diptych.
Same old creep.
Oh. Shame.
He always speaks very warmly of you.
- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.
How about we go out for a bite to eat tonight?
Oh. Can't. I have to go out with my boyfriend.
- He's a human rights lawyer, you know. - I know.
I'm meeting him for a romantic supper.
Oh.
- Bridget Jones. - Bridget, it's Mark.
Oh. I was just talking about you.
I'm running late. Do you want me to cancel?
- Oh. No, that's fine. - Are you sure?
Be as late as you like.
Chuck him, while you're not pregnant with his unwanted child.
I only said he was working late.
Oh, that's his history. In one hour, he'll be coming in his secretary's mouth
while he rings to say what he wants for starters.
Friends, they spend years finding you a boyfriend,
and at the moment you get one, they instantly tell you to dump him.
Even if he isn't shagging her already, he's thinking about it.
If a man dating a woman with large breasts, he will bed one with small breasts.
Rubbish. Mark's above all that nonsense.
Jellyfisher alert. Jellyfisher alert.
Janey Osborne. Talking to her is like swimming in a sea
and being stung repeatedly by an enormous jellyfish.
Bridget. How's it going with that divine man of yours?
You must be so pleased to have a boyfriend at last.
First jellyfish of the evening.
Is he taking you to the Law Council Dinner?
Oh. Well, I'm sure he's just forgotten.
Better start slimming into that dress.
He's given you the night off to cheer up your single friends. Sweet.
Actually, he's got a big case on, trying to get everyone in Mexico out of prison.
We're meeting for a very late romantic dinner.
Really? That's so odd,
'cause I saw him an hour ago going into his house with Rebecca Gillies.
She's only 22. She's got legs up to here.
And Daddy owns half of Australia.
See ya, babes.
Who is Rebecca Gillies? What's she doing going into my boyfriend's house?
Where he never asks me. And with legs up to here?
- My legs only come up to there. - You have fine legs.
Climber's legs.
I say go over there and ask him, straight out,
are you or are you not having affair with Rebecca Gillies?
- If he says... - I won't dignify that question with an answer...
Then you know he's shagging her.
# All that I have is all that you've given...
It's all about confidence and trust. Mark would never betray me.
Everything will be lovely and we'll have sex in the kitchen.
- Oh, God. - I'm coming.
Oh, Godl! What is that?
Two seconds, I'll be straight down.
Who is that?
#... I find you lied
# And I can't believe it's true
# Wrapped in her arms I see you across the street
# I see you across the street
# And I can't help but wonder If she knows what's going on
# You talk of love But don't know how it feels
# When you realise
# You're not the only one
Let's get on with it.
#... oh, you better stop
- # Stop - # Before
# You tear me all apart
# You better stop
- # Stop... - You are a very demanding man.
#... you go and break my heart...
Bridget Jones.
No, I'm Bridget Jones.
- That's what I meant. - You must be...
Rebecca Gillies. I've been so looking forward to meeting you
- after everything Mark's told me. - Why? What's he said?
- Where is Mark? - Actually, er...
- Becky, who is it? - Becky?
- Right. - Great.
- Right... - Bridget.
Hello, Mark.
Hello...
lawyers who work with Mark.
Good evening.
Everything under control, I see.
Um... Excellent graph.
- Lovely legs. - Thank you.
I am so sorry.
I thought... Oh, I don't know what I thought.
Now you're really angry with me.
- No, I'm not. - It's OK, you can say if you are.
- It's not the end of the world. - I'll get you a glass of wine.
The thing is I ran into Janey Osborne,
who said she'd just seen you with this girl, with really long legs,
and Shazzer and Jude said I should get over here straightaway.
Following the orders of the dating war command, you decided to executed a raid.
- You are angry. - I'm not, just disappointed.
Disappointed? Oh, God, that's worse than angry.
I'm just disappointed I can't take you home this instant.
Oh. What about all those lawyers?
Oh, plenty of time to butter them up at the Law Oouncil Dinner next Friday.
Don't want to go, do you?
I'd love to.
Oh, stupid Bridget, stupid friends.
Wonderful, loyal Mark Darcy...
...who loves me just the way I am.
- What are you doing? - Getting dressed.
Why are you dancing around in that tent?
Because I don't want you to see any of my wobbly bits.
That's pointless, because I have a very high regard for your wobbly bits
in all circumstances.
- Really? - Absolutely.
I think it's high time we had another look.
# Yeah
# Are you digging on me?
# Yeah
# I'm digging on you, now, baby
# Yeah
# Do you want a little bit of my love?
# Yeah...
He really is very, very, very nice.
# All the time I knew
# That you loved me
# And you promised me...
I miss you too.
# That you would be my only man
# Yeah
# Are you digging on me?
I've never been happier in my entire life.
However, must not obsess or fantasise.
Bridget Darcy.
Mrs Darcy.
Mr and Mrs Darcy.
Lord and Lady Darcy.
Wonder what Mark Darcy would be like as a father.
To his children, I mean, not to me.
That would be a weird, Oedipus-like thought.
At last, life is on track.
Bridget Jones: Fiancée, wife...
mother.
Bugger.
Ever fancied doing it in the dark with a total stranger?
All right, perhaps not a total stranger.
Back off, Oleaver, or I'll report you to a sexual harassment tribunal.
I'm a serious journalist.
Is that your most serious skirt, Jones?
Oh...
Do you like it?
I thought you hated television.
I hate watching television. Being on it is... Hello there.
...entirely different.
Daniel, thought the Madrid piece was outstanding, really original.
Cheers, Jeremy. Appreciate that. We had to work really hard on that one.
Tosser. Talking of which, how is Mark Darcy?
- You still...? - Yes, I am.
And I intend to be for a very long time.
Good. You know what a fan I am of any woman married to Mark Darcy.
- That's not funny. - Seriously, though, Jones,
speaking purely unselfishly, I worry about you.
You do know that it's a fact that most lawyer's wives die of boredom?
And what about you? Still shagging anything that moves?
As a matter of fact, no. No shagging whatsoever.
I'm in shag therapy.
It turns out I have a problem. I go to meetings, talk about my feelings.
Hug people who smell.
- I don't believe you. - I'm trying...
...to be a better man, Bridge,
so that the next time a better woman comes along,
I won't make a pig's ear of it.
Daniel. Meeting?
Yeah, yeah. Thanks.
Very good hair, Jones.
By the way, um, you're not free for dinner tonight, are you?
No, I'm not. I'm going to the Law Oouncil Dinner.
It's a very important evening.
I can't wear that.
Bridge, do you want to get married and have babies before you become barren?
Trust me...
Magda: My only grown-up friend. Married to Mark's partner.
She actually got engaged on the night of the Law Council Dinner.
Try it with the dress.
Oh, my God!
Remember, we are trying to reduce your body size by 15 per cent.
You hold the front, I'll hold the back. One, two, three...
What's going on in there?
Not too bad, actually.
Tra-la!
Fantastic.
Right, let us begin.
I am going to make you into a princess.
Goody.
Nothing like being in the hands of a total genius.
Wow.
- Whatever you do... - Bugger it.
...don't iron your hair.
It's a lot worse than I thought.
We could flatten it with Brylcreem.
What about a wig? Lawyers love wigs.
- I preferred you in the gold. - No, whatever you do, not the gold.
Great. I'm late with mad hair and can barely breathe in scary knickers.
# La la la La la la la la...
Oh, God. I'm very worried.
What if someone says "Bridget Jones, get out of here, you are ridiculous"?
Stop it.
The most important thing, of course, is to look absolutely wonderful
and make a magnificent entrance.
# I just can't get you out of my head...
Hi. Sorry I'm late.
- Hello. - I think you should go to the ladies.
But I went before I left home.
Trust me on this one.
Oh.
Not good.
All right, tiny make-up mistake,
but I always have wit and conversation to fall back on.
Thank you.
- Bridget. - Hello.
Derek, Horatio, Camilla.
- Horatio? - Yes, Horatio.
Horatio was just saying he's totally against charitable giving.
- What? - Well, obviously you don't mean it.
Absolutely. Do you think it's helpful to give a beggar fifty pence?
- Maybe he's just hungry. - Don't be so naive.
The people you see outside the tube every day are there by choice.
- End of story. - Oh, no, it's not.
Some people have terrible personal problems,
and other people might have lost their family in some tragic ferry disaster.
And some people are just plain hopeless.
Honestly, this is the sort of rubbish you'd expect from fat, balding
Tory, Home Counties, upper-middle-class twits.
Yeah, very good. Tested my resolve.
How did I do?
You seem to have made quite an impression.
I've put you next to Giles Benwick.
- Oh, I'm not sitting next to you? - No. He's terribly nice,
but his wife's just run off with one of the partners.
He probably won't mention it, but you should know.
I always knew she was out of my league.
You see, there's the high-fliers, like Annabel and Mark Darcy
and there's the gorgeous girls, like Rebecca there
and there's the rest of us.
Like you and me, you mean?
Absolutely.
I mean, look at the state of us.
You and me stumbled into the VIP room by mistake
and it's only a matter of moments before they show us the door.
My lords, ladies and gentlemen, let the quiz begin.
Oh, goody. I love quizzes.
All those years of playing Trivial Pursuits are about to pay off.
Now I want to see your hands poised over those bells. Ready?
Here we go. What are something called "customary freeholds"?
Superior copyhold.
Yes.
What is the correct grace used in the Inner Temple
for the second mooting night of Michaelmas term?
Amas bibendo... fructis.
Jolly good. What is an overreaching conveyance?
What is rack-rent? When was breach of promise abolished?
Define "damnum sentit dominus".
Translate "reddendo singula singulis" into Ancient Greek.
I believe this is the answer.
Hippodamoi credemnon louestai.
Absolutely correct.
Now, for our final and deciding round,
the category is contemporary culture.
Who did the design for Princess Diana's wedding dress?
The Emmanuels.
- Correct. - Excellent, Bridget.
Name the character in Footballers' Wives
who, in one memorable episode, set fire to her own breasts.
Chardonnay.
Correct.
At this point, there are only two tables in contention
and only one question left.
What was the name of Madonna's first UK single?
Lucky Star.
- Sorry, I didn't quite hear. - Are you sure?
- Wasn't it Holiday? - No, everyone thinks it is,
but it's not.
My entire life has been leading up to this very moment.
Take that knife, slice off my head and boil it if I'm wrong.
The correct answer is Lucky Star.
No.
- The correct answer is... - Is it Holiday?
Holiday, indeed, yes.
The winners of the 42nd Annual Law Oouncil Quiz are...
the Legal Eagles.
- Lovely to see you, Bridget. - Oh, thanks, Rebecca.
Good night.
Why didn't you speak to me all night?
That's the point of those dinners.
But you talked to Rebecca. And you talked to Horatio.
I'll never fit in with your friends.
Not if you go on calling everyone "balding, upper-middle-class twits".
Well, they were balding, upper-middle-class twits.
Except for the ones who had hair.
But I suppose you agree with them that poor people deserve to be poor?
Don't be ridiculous.
- So now I'm ridiculous? - Yes, tonight you were a little.
Well, tonight you were an arrogant arse.
I think I may have made a terrible mistake inviting you
and your folding underpants into my life.
Good night.
If you had asked me tonight,
I'd have said no, anyway.
Asked you what?
Bridget?
Asked you what?
Oh, God, I've done it.
I've gone and done it.
One minute, you're closer to someone than anyone in the whole world,
next minute, you're never going to see them again.
If you have a message for Mark Darcy, please speak after the tone.
Hello, it's me. I'm really, really sorry...
Sorry, it's the door.
Don't go away, I have something really, really important to say.
- Yes, who is it? - It's me.
- Mark. - Oh, right.
Er, just a moment.
I'm on the phone.
You're outside.
Look, er...
I'll ring you later.
Unless you've come to chuck me once and for all.
In which case,
bye and thank you, and... sorry.
Oh, God, please don't chuck me.
If you have chucked me, please change your mind,
I'll behave much better in future.
On the other hand, if you haven't,
please behave better next time we go out. Stuck-up snob.
What do you want?
I'd like to come up. You are, after all, my girlfriend.
Even though I shouted at you and called you an arrogant arse?
Unfortunately, yes. You see, the problematic thing is...
I love you.
W- what?
- I said I love you. - I'm sorry, I missed that again.
I said I love you, for God's sake!
All right, no need to shout.
I'll come down and let you in.
You might be needing this in the future.
He said he loves me.
- He said he loves you? - He said he loves me.
- Right, where is he now? - He's in the bedroom.
Go back in there, Bridge,
and whatever you do, act completely nonchalant.
Bridget, you're staring at me again.
Sorry.
Listen, I know this evening didn't go exactly as planned,
but there was a very important question I wanted to ask you tonight.
- Oh, really? - Yes.
I've actually been meaning to ask this for quite some time.
I've just never really found the right way to put it.
Darling Bridget...
...would you...
...like to go on a skiing mini-break?
Yes!
# What the world...
This is not just a mini-break.
This is a holiday in heaven.
Told a tiny lie about being an extremely experienced skier.
But, honestly, how hard can it be?
- Ah. - Shall we?
[Bridget] I know I'm going to like skiing a lot.
Very romantic, very relaxing.
- Bar going up. - No. What? Why?
Um...
Er...
Oh. Oh, God.
Oh, God. Oh.
Ah.
Bridget.
Rebecca. What are you doing here?
- Didn't Mark tell you we were coming? - No, he didn't.
It was me who recommended the place.
- I've been coming since I was 11. - Really?
Three whole years.
Come on, up you get.
Come on.
- There you go. - Are you all right?
Yes, fine, thanks.
- You sure? - Why is Rebecca here?
Oh, God. Well, I mentioned that we were coming
and she said why didn't they come too, and I couldn't say no, could I?
Come on, you two, let's crack on, shall we?
Actually, I might just sit this one out. You head on.
- See you down there. - You sure?
Absolutely. I'll be fine in a minute.
Right, I'll see you at base camp, then.
Bastard. I can't believe he's left me.
Ooh.
Oooh.
So, romantic getaway has turned into lawyer's reunion.
Oooh.
I can't believe we're already into group holidays
after only eight weeks of total, undisturbed sex.
Wait a minute...
No. Eight weeks?
It couldn't be, could it?
Totally undisturbed...
Oh, God. I'm pregnant.
And I'm going to die!
Oh, my God!
I can't see!
Big bump!
Get out of the way!
Who's this? An eccentric but exhilarating performance
from a total unknown,
who's now solidly in position for the bronze.
I would like a pregnancy test, please.
A pregnancy test.
Ich bien, er, possibly...
mit baby.
Er...
Kinder. l I am on back...
and he, er...
maken ze lieben. Er, with me.
She's pregnant!
Oh, no! No, no, not pregnant.
She's bloated.
- Condom? - Nein. Nein, nein.
Maybe like this, but maybe like this.
I think her problem is psychological.
There is nothing a pill can do to help her.
Look, I'm a girl and I met a boy.
Fraulein, and I met frau... boy.
And possibly now mit baby, uh-huh?
Right, moment of truth awaits.
What if I am pregnant?
I must try not to get hopes up too high.
Boyfriend and baby seems just too lucky.
Bridget? I have been looking everywhere for you.
I thought you'd broken a leg or something... Oh, God.
- You're not...? - I might be.
- What if I were? - Well, I suppose I'd...
To be quite frank, it'd be bloody fantastic.
I mean, if a little ahead of schedule.
- Are you really pregnant? - Well, give it three minutes.
- What do you fancy? Boy or a girl? - I dunno, it doesn't matter.
Although, I suppose I've always had the fantasy of a son.
- Another Mark Darcy. - Or maybe something like Huck.
Or River. Or some fabulous Hebrew name like Noah.
Anyway, I could teach him to play cricket and rugby
and visit him at Eton on St Andrew's Day.
Eton?
Yes. The Darcy men have been going to Eton for five generations.
Well, my son's not going to be sent away from home.
Especially to some fascist institution where they stick a poker up your arse
that you're never allowed to remove again.
I see.
- I didn't mean you. - No, of course not.
So what's the alternative? Sleeping in his parents' bed,
breastfeeding until he's a teenager
and some progressive school, where the day is spent singing Yellow Submarine?
Oh, you're absolutely right.
It would be madness to allow a child to enjoy his education or live with his parents.
What the madness is to have a child at all if his parents can't have a slight discussion about anything
without one shouting at the other.
It's negative.
- That's too bad. - Yes, very sad.
Perhaps we should go out for lunch tomorrow. Get out of the grump.
That's a good idea in theory, but you made a family arrangement.
Oh, God.
Darlings!
I've had the fabulous idea of inviting your parents.
Another one of Mother's culinary triumphs.
- Everything in miniature. - Mini treacle tart, Admiral Darcy?
No, no, thank you. The mini spotted dick rather finished me off.
So, Mark, Bridget, when are you two lovebirds going to name the day?
Bridget, you must want to hear those ding-dong bells.
Well, we're certainly not thinking about that yet. Are we, Bridget?
No. God, no.
Of course not.
Good. Well, that's that sorted.
So, Admiral, out on the high seas. How was it?
- Did you mean that thing you said? - What thing?
- You know what thing. - No, I don't know what thing.
The thing thing.
Now, let's see, there are any number of things, um...
in an afternoon full of all sorts of things,
so I, um...
The thing where you said you're not, um...
That you're not, not even thinking about, um...
What's the matter?
Let's get a drink.
I'm going to go to the loo, then I'm going to come back.
And then we're going to be civilised.
If you have a message for Mark Darcy, speak after the tone.
Mark, it's Rebecca. Are you there?
Obviously not. Probably still out with Bridget.
Um... Anyway, I hope lunch with the parents went well.
I'm sure you were dutiful and very polite, as usual.
Er... Whatever. Anyway, look, maybe give me a ring when you get back.
I thought I might pop round for a nightcap.
But I suppose that's a silly idea. Bridget's probably there.
Sleep tight.
Oh,Christ, what now?
Are you or are you not having an affair with Rebecca Gillies?
I won't dignify that question with an answer.
Right.
All I did was go to the loo.
Bridget!
Bridget.
That's not your coat.
Oh, right.
Oh, Bridget, what are you doing?
I read you should never date someone if you can think of three reasons not to.
- Can you think of three? - Yes.
- Which are? - Well, first off, I embarrass you.
I can't ski, I can't ride, I can't speak Latin.
My legs only come up to here and yes, I will always be a little bit fat.
And you, you fold your underpants before you go to bed.
- Now, hang on, that can't be a reason. - No, it's not a reason.
But you're not perfect either.
You look down your nose at absolutely everyone,
and you're incapable of doing anything spontaneous or potentially affectionate.
It feels like you're waiting to find someone in the VIP room
who's, who's so fantastic...
just the way she is,
that you don't need to fix her.
Bridget, this is mad.
Perhaps you've already found her.
Do you want to marry me?
Look, I...
You see, you can never muster the strength...
to fight for me.
I can't believe I did that.
# What do I gotta do to make you love me?
# What do I gotta do to make you care?
# What do I gotta do when lightning strikes me
# Hmm
# And I wake to find that you're not there?
# What do I gotta do to make you want me?
# Hmm
# What do I gotta do to be heard?
# And what do I say when it's all over, babe?
# Oooh-ooh
# And sorry seems to be the hardest word
# It's sad So sad
# Why can't we talk it over, babe?
# Always seems to me
# When sorry seems to be
# The hardest word #
Five weeks later.
Weight: 4,000 pounds.
Am enjoying a relationship with two men simultaneously.
The first is called Ben, the other, Jerry.
Number of current boyfriends: Zero.
Number of calls from ex-boyfriend:
You have absolutely no messages.
Not a single one. Not even from your mother.
- Hello? - Hello, darling.
- I hope you haven't forgotten our lunch date? - Of course I forgot.
- I'm suicidally depressed. - Don't be silly, Bridget.
Meet me at Debenhams at twelve o'clock.
Mum... I thought we were going to have something to eat.
Patience, please. I've got a big surprise for you, darling.
- What? - Don't say "what", say "pardon".
Tra-la!
- What do you think? - Oh, my God.
Daddy and I are getting married.
- You're already married. - We're doing it again.
Reaffirming our vows. You are going to be a bridesmaid,
and absolutely everything is going to be lavender.
And when I say everything, I mean...
...everything.
Oh, God, I'm never going to get married
and my sodding mum and dad are doing it twice.
# No more candlelight No more romance
- # No more small talk... - Bloody know-it-all.
New York: The Big, Juicy Apple.
The city that never sleeps with the same person two nights running.
My favourite place in America, where Sex And The City isn't just a programme,
it's a promise.
Morning, Rach.
Sorry.
Oh, cheer up, misery guts. I have good news for you.
Sure, right.
What's the angle? I interview some rocket scientist
while he looks through my skirt with X-ray glasses?
No.
Although that is a bloody good idea.
No. The fact is The Smooth Guide is doing very well with women,
but the network want us to cast a wider net and use a Smooth Guide-ess.
Me? With Daniel Oleaver?
It's the next logical step. I think Thailand is first on the list.
No. I won't do it.
Not now. Not in a million years from now.
- Excuse me? - I am a top television journalist,
not some boorish bint in a bikini.
Really? Strong words from somebody who doesn't know where Germany is.
Who told you that?
Cleaver. He said he couldn't be expected to go out with someone
who thought Iran was David Bowie's wife, and who didn't know where Germany was.
Daniel Oleaver is a deceitful, sexist, disgusting specimen of humanity,
that I wouldn't share a lift with, let alone a job.
Come on, Jones, there must have been something you liked about me.
Well... you have a nice car.
And quite nice manners. Outside the bedroom.
But that's about it.
And by the way, I know exactly where Germany is.
The question is do you know the location of your arsehole?
As a matter of fact, I do know the exact location of my arsehole. And hers.
Oh, come on, Jones, it was just a silly joke.
Not a very funny one.
- Go on, then. - What?
Where is it? Where is Germany?
- Next to France. - And?
And also Belgium...
Poland. And it has a sea coast.
Which sea?
Oh, sod it. Now, look,
I think we should talk about Finch's suggestion.
I am going to Thailand, Jones.
Wouldn't you like to be my little Girl Guide?
Thailand?
- You'll shag before you leave Heathrow. - I'll be perfectly fine.
I'm eschewing all men.
And cigarettes. And carbohydrates.
- We can't possibly let you go. - On your own.
Oh, stop it, all of you.
I am a mature, sophisticated, professional woman
and I'm going to Thailand entirely on my own, thank you very much.
- Fuck! - Sorry.
- Fuckity fuck. - Sorry.
And now our final passengers have joined us, we can get underway.
Someone's gotta be last.
Are we not sitting together?
Oh, fuck.
I don't think we're really in a position to, um...
...make a fuss. Sorry. Hi.
Sorry.
What's our film?
What's your name? Mine's Olive.
Er, Bridget.
Good afternoon again, ladies and gentlemen.
We're about to offer a wide range of duty-free items.
Details can be found in your in-flight magazine.
Wonderful people, the Thais. Particularly the young ladies.
If you know what I mean, eh?
- Oh, for heaven's sake. - Come with me.
Come with me now.
- Where are we going? - Just through here.
Thank you. This is worse than school.
It really wasn't my fault.
It's a fizzy drink, you know, itj ust...
It just sort of fizzied over.
Couldn't bear to think of you back there in slum class, Jones.
Graham, thank you. You are the best air steward I've ever come across.
And if I may say so, the smartest.
Thank you, sir.
I thought you were there already, doing research.
Fuck, no. I make it up as I go along.
It's 13 hours for this trip. I need some in-flight entertainment.
Why don't you tell me, in detail, about your school netball tour,
particularly the unsavoury incident in the communal showers.