(5/12/01)


Turkey Curry Buffet End of Fight
Ringing Dustbin Christmas Day
Book Launch Ruby Wedding Party
At Minibreak Hotel New York Airport
Smug-Married Dinner Party Final Scenes
Bridget’s Birthday Dinner Credits Sequence

 
Turkey Curry Buffet
 
 
Bridget’s Dad
Your mother’s trying to fix you up with some divorcee.
(nods in his direction)

What Bridget sees: a solitary figure by the window, his back to the room, his head turned in handsome profile, his whole posture indicating haughty disengagement. This is MARK DARCY. Bridget’s reaction shows some interest—he’s a rather romantic looking figure.
 

Bridget’s Dad (cont’d)
Human rights barrister. Pretty nasty beast apparently. Nearly bit Uncle Geoffrey’s head off when he asked for some advice on his mortgage...

MOTHER swoops in, thrusting a tray at Bridget, and sweeping her off.
 

Mother
Come on. Why don’t you see if Mark fancies a gherkin?

Mark Darcy talks in low, urgent tones to his rather grand looking, military-type well-born parents...
 

Mother (cont’d)
Mark! Here she is!

Mark turns slowly, revealing a brightly coloured set of reindeer on the front of his sweater.
 

Mother (cont’d)
You remember Bridget? She used to run round your lawn with no clothes on. Remember?

The Darcy Parents politely back off, leaving their son, Mark, stranded. Mark takes his time looking at Bridget...


Mark
No. Not as such.

He says that in a very formal, rather forbidding sort of way, very Mr Darcyish, in fact.
 

Bridget
Can I tempt you with a gherkin?

Mark

No, thanks.

Mother

Bridget works in publishing, don’t you Bridget?

Bridget

I do...indeed.

An awkward silence. Una, sizing up the situation from afar, moves in.
 

Una Alconbury
(to Bridget’s mother)
Come and look at your gravy, Pam! I think it’s going to need sieving.

Mother

Of course it doesn’t need sieving. Just stir it, Una!

Una shoots Mother a meaningful look, ‘Leave them alone’. Mother looks at Bridget and Mark, then twigs.
 

Mother (cont’d)
Of course! I’ll be right there! Sorry, lumpy gravy calls.

Mark clenches his jaw muscles in embarrassment at Mother’s vulgarity, as he and Bridget are left alone. Long pause, conscious of parental stares.
 

Bridget & Mark simultaneously
So...

Mark

Publishing. Have you read any good books... lately?

Bridget

Um...The Famished Road, by Ben Okri.

Mark

Ah, yes, I read that when it first came out.

Bridget

All the way through?

Mark

Mmm. don’t you think it’s a rather poor conceit?

Bridget stares at him.

Bridget
Erm...Well, not too poor. Actually I’m only on page 3. Dozed off—but I’m sure the story’s really going to kick in on page 4.

Is there a tiny glint of amusement in Mark’s eye?
 

You been staying with your parents over New Year?

Mark

Yes. You too?

Bridget

No. Sorry. I was at a party in London last night, so I fear I’m a bit hungover. Wish I could be lying with my head in a toilet like all normal people.

She does a little laugh. Inscrutable reaction from Mark.
 

New Year’s Resolution to drink less. And stop smoking.

Mark

Ah.

Looking at her drink and fag.
 

Bridget
And keep New Year’s Resolutions. And stop talking total nonsense to strangers. In fact, stop talking full stop. Keep my big  mouth firmly shut until I’ve got something incisive and intelligent to say...(pause) Nice jumper. Can’t beat a reindeer, that’s my theory.

Mark

Perhaps it’s time to...eat then.

Mark walks off. Bridget notices all eyes staring at her, then hurriedly averted. She walks to the Turkey Curry Buffet...
 

Bridget
(muttering to herself)
Ah—so that’s why Bridget isn’t married yet. She repulses men.
 


 
Ringing Dustbin

[Dad shows up to talk about mother’s behavior, dissatisfaction with life, etc. Meanwhile Tom calls to say that he’s left his mobile phone in Bridget’s apartment and she thinks she’s thrown it away with the newspapers. Bridget, who is not dressed, grabs a coat and exits.]

Bridget stands on a low wall by three communal dustbins. Her overcoat covers her bath towel and not much else. She has 2 curlers in the back of her hair. Suddenly, out of the darkness, Mark Darcy appears, dressed in jogging clothes...
 

Mark
Hello.

Bridget

Oh, God.

Mark
(taking her in)

Everything okay?

Bridget
(pulling her coat tightly)

Yup. Super.

Mark

What are you doing?

Bridget

I’m waiting...for the dustbin...to ring.

Mark

Have you been waiting long?

Bridget

Not very long, no.

Mark

Do you think it will be ringing soon?

Bridget

Yes, I have high hopes of a phone call in the very near future.

Pause. There’s the ring of a phone. Mark is startled, as Bridget reaches into one of the dustbins, struggles to locate the phone. Mark reaches into the dustbin nearest him, retrieves the phone, answers it...
 

Mark
Bridget Jones’s phone—may I tell her who’s calling? Someone called Colin.

Bridget

Thank you.
(into phone)
Thanks...No. You’re still a very attractive man—  should know—I’m your daughter.
(to Mark)
Thank you for your help.

Mark

You’re welcome.

She heads back into her house, he continues on his way. She turns and looks back at him—he seems to be laughing.

Bridget enters [her flat] breathless, races into the bathroom.
 

Bridget
Bloody Mark Darcy. Can’t stand joggers. Hope he dies of a heart attack and they find he wasn't wearing clean pants. Dad, I'm rushing, but I'm listening. Quite an important date—possible future husband and father of children arriving in 5 minutes and I still have no—repeat no—brassiere on—but I’m still listening.

Bridget’s Dad

She says we need some time apart. You know what that means. (He mimes a slit throat) Oh, somebody rang. David?

Bridget
(heading out of bathroom)

David?

Bridget’s Dad

Darren...

Bridget

Not Daniel.

Bridget’s Dad

That’s it.

Bridget

What did he say?

Bridget’s Dad

He said he had to work tonight. He’ll try to call you later. Anyway look I’d better get back Mum’ll wonder where I’ve been. If she's home...herself.

Bridget’s face.
 



 
Book Launch

Bridget exits from the toilets. She sees Daniel Cleaver, across the room, talking to Melvyn Bragg and other celebrities. Cleaver’s eyes meet Bridget. He smiles. Bridget turns coolly the other way, only to find herself face to face with Mr Fitzherbert, surrounded by several guests.
 

Mr Fitzherbert
Ah, Brenda. We were just discussing ‘The Famished Road’.

Bridget

Really..? Apart from the first three pages, don’t you think it’s a rather poor conceit.

Mr Fitzherbert

No, as a matter of fact, I think it’s a masterpiece. But I’m sure the author would be interested to hear your views.

Mr Fitzherbert turns to reveal the guest beside him is none other than Ben Okri.
 

Bridget
Right. Ben. Ahm. Sorry. I’ve been very sick recently. In the head, E.C.T. Bzzzz. Not nice.

A drinks tray passes, and Bridget seizes the opportunity to spin 180 degrees, only to find herself face to face with Mark Darcy, who, from the look on his face, obviously just overheard Bridget’s clanger. She’s genuinely surprised to see him there in designer suit, looking handsome.


Bridget (cont’d)
What are you doing here?

Mark

I’ve been asking myself the same question. I came with a colleague.

Mark Darcy stands rigid, clearly hating every minute.
 

Mark (cont’d)
So how are you?

Bridget
(sharp, but not confrontational)

Well, very disappointed not to see my favourite reindeer jumper again, but otherwise well. And you?

At that moment, the crowds part and Perpetua arrives, still stuffing her face with canapes...
 

Perpetua
Anyone going to introduce me?

Bridget finally has an opportunity to put Jude’s book, ‘Making Parties Work for You’, into practice...
 

Bridget
(as in book)
Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark this is Perpetua...
Dissolve to:
WHAT BRIDGET WANTS TO SAY:
Bridget (cont’d)
...Mark is a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel-raced ex-wife. Perpetua is the old fart arse bag who spends her time bossing me around.

WHAT BRIDGET REALLY SAYS:

Bridget (cont’d)
Mark is a top barrister...who comes from Grafton Underwood.
(to Mark)
Perpetua is one of my work colleagues, and... she’s just been ????

Perpetua
(Obsequiously)

Oh, Mark. I know you by reputation, of course.

Bridget looks at him in a new light. She thought he was a nerd. She didn’t know he was famous.

At this point, Natasha Glenville arrives. She is sleek and beautiful and not kind. Mark’s very intelligent fellow lawyer.
 

Mark
(playing the game, straight-faced)
Ah, Natasha—you know Perpetua—this is Bridget Jones—Bridget, this is Natasha. Natasha is a top attorney and specialises in family law. Bridget works in publishing and keeps her mobile phone in the dustbin.

Natasha

How odd. Perpetua—how’s the house-hunt?

Perpetua and Natasha, who has just dismissed Bridget as a zero immediately fall into conversation—two posh peas in a pod.

Perpetua
Fucking disaster. But far more important— that man is gorgeous!

Natasha

Ah yes—Mark. (conspiratorially—looking at him) Just give me time, babe. Give me time.

Bridget grabs a drink from a passing tray, then looks up at Mark, who has, after all, just made a joke—but Mark Darcy, meanwhile, suddenly falls silent when he sees:

Daniel Cleaver checking out the room. He sees Mark, starring at him. Disconcerted, he quickly looks away.

Bridget has seen this. She’s slightly at a loss now.
 

Bridget
Yes, well, I better move on—I could do with something to pep me up for my speech, and I think I saw Salmaaan handing out cocaine.

Mark

You’re making a speech?

Bridget

Only a tiny one—Kafka’s Motorbike—greatest book of all time etc. Blink and you’ll miss it.

Bridget turns to walk in Daniel’s direction, only to find he has disappeared, and there’s no-one to talk to. Behind her, Mark watches, perhaps regretting his remark.
 



 
At Minibreak Hotel

[While watching snooker on television, Daniel finds he is out of cigarettes and Bridget will not go fetch any for him. So he goes downstairs.]

Daniel comes out, opening the pack of cigarettes, lighting up, inhaling deep...A few wedding guests walk by him. He flicks open his mobile phone.

Mark Darcy is coming up the steps.
 

Mark
Call you can’t make from the room?

Daniel

O, just go fuck yourself, Darcy.

Mark

Such a command of the language—the literary world is very lucky to have you at its helm.

Silence. These two really don’t like each other. Mark walks away.
 



 
Smug-Married Dinner Party

[When Bridget arrives Jeremy is not yet home. Previous scenes were deleted where Bridget catches Jeremy out with another woman.]

Cosmo
You really ought to hurry up and get sprogged up, you know old gir. Time’s running out. Tick tock.

Bridget

Yes....is it one in four marriages that end in divorce now, or one in three?

Mark

One in three.

At which moment Jeremy comes in.
 

Jeremy
Sorry, I’m late, darling, everyone. Work, work, work.

Bridget catches his eye.
 

Eat on, eat on.

Cosmo

Seriously, though. Office is full of single girls over thirty—fine physical specimens, but just can’t seem to hold down a chap.

Woney
(thin veneer of concern while stroking her pregnant stomach)

Yes, why are there so many unmarried working women these days, Bridget?
Cut to:
WHAT BRIDGET WANTS TO SAY:
Bridget
Because I don’t want to end up like you, you boring Sloaney milch cow, and because if I had to cook old Chubby Chop’s dinner, then get in the same bed as him just once, I’d tear off my own head and eat it.
Cut to:
Woney
What do you think’s the reason?

WHAT BRIDGET ACTUALLY SAYS:
 

Bridget
Ahm—I don’t know—I suppose it doesn’t help that underneath our clothes, our entire bodies are covered in green scales.

People laugh—but there’s a gap which Mark Darcy strives to fill.
 

Mark
Yes, for my part, I wonder if it actually doesn’t make sense to wait.

Natasha

Quite right. No use just coupling willy-nilly. It seems to me that a good marriage is like a well-planned merger.

She seems to glance a little towards Mark during this.
 

Both parties bring something to the table, both negotiate, both make little concessions—and what emerges is more than the sum of the parts...

Mark Darcy continues...
 

Mark
Yes—no—you’re right, Natasha—but I suppose what I mean is... (getting a bit near his emotions) We tend to think we’re failures... unless we rush headlong into marriage. Perhaps if we, you know, waited— found out what we really wanted...there might not be two lives in ruins...so often. As we lawyers find.

This brings the conversation to a halt.
 



 
Bridget’s Birthday Dinner

Mark, Sharon, Jude and Tom are seated around the table. Everybody stares at the soup, which is blue—then look at Bridget, who dares them to say a word.
 

Mark
(spooning a mouthful)
Excellent.


Everybody
Mmmm, Delicious. Yum.

They are policing his attentions to Bridget. Like parents.
 

Sharon
So—Mark—why did your wife leave you?

Tiny pause—is he going to be sensitive about it?
 

Mark
She was Japanese. Exceptionally cruel race.

Jude

And are you dating anyone at the moment?

Bridget
(cutting her off)

Come on—eat up! Two whole lovely courses to go.

Cut to 40 minutes later—they’re all eating the chewy orange pudding.
 

Tom
Delicious.

Sharon

It reminds me of something—tastes like...

Jude

Marmalade.

Tom

Well done, Bridget. 4 hours of careful cooking...and a feast of blue soup, omelette and marmalade. That’s worth drinking to. (raising a glass) To Bridget, who can’t cook, but who we love—just the way she is...

Everybody

To Bridget. (Cheekily) Just—as—she—is

Close on Bridget. She is exchanging looks with Mark—he looks back at her—suddenly there is a chance of happiness... And then suddenly—at exactly that moment...

The ring of the bell.
 



 
End of Fight

Then Mark lands Daniel a very violent punch. There is a sickening thud as fist hits face.

Bridget reacts. As Daniel lies, unconscious, Bridget runs across to him. She looks up at Mark, foxed by his alarmingly violent behavior.
 

Bridget
(to Mark)
What is your problem?


Mark
(incredulous)
My problem?

Bridget

Yes—you give the impression of being all noble and moral and helpful in the kitchen, but you’re just as bad and as mad as the rest of them.

Mark stares down at the scene.
 

Mark
Forget it. I thought it might be my job to protect you—but I was clearly mistaken.

Bridget

Protect me?

Mark

Yes—but very, very foolish mistake. Forgive me.

Close on Bridget watching as Mark walks.
 



 
Christmas Day

[Inside the Jones home, Dad and Bridget are watching the Home Shopping Channel.
 

Dad
To singletons.

They toast—cut round Sharon/Jude/Tom, all of them singletons with their families.

JUDE'S PARENTS' HOUSE
 

Jude’s Dad
Well, congratulations to Judith—half a million pounds is one hell of a bonus—more than I earned in my whole career.

They turn to toast Jude. She bursts dramatically into tears.
 

Jude
He promised he’d come.

SHARON'S PARENTS' HOUSE
 

Sharon’s Mum
How’s your love life, darling?

Sharon

Shut it!

TOM'S PARENTS' HOUSE
 

Tom’s Dad
Shame that Bridget couldn’t be here. It must be tough having Christmas without your girlfriend.

Tom

Yes. But I guess this year her Dad just... needs her more.


 
Ruby Wedding Party

A manor house on the edge of town. Not big enough to be a ‘Hall’ nor naff enough to be called ‘The Willows’. But assured. Comfortable, with a large gate. The kind of place you’d find a retired Major reading his ‘Wisden’, but not the Prince of Wales, which is how everyone is behaving...

Bridget’s Mum and Dad enter holding hands, lighting the room, quite indecently satisfied. Mum sees Una and Geoffrey. Big grin.
 

Mother
(to Bridget)
It’s a big showy, isn’t it?

Bridget

What?

Mother

Don’t say ‘what’, Bridget. Say ‘pardon’.

Bridget freezes. Mark approaches. He is beautifully dressed apart from a hideous Pooh Bear bow-tie. His eyes meet Bridget’s.
 

Bridget
Thank you for inviting me.


Mark
I didn’t. It must have been my parents.

Mark & Bridget simultaneously

So...

Awkward pause—and then Natasha approaches.
 

Natasha
Hello, Bridget. I didn’t know you were coming. Mark, your father wants to begin very soon.

Mark

Does he? Right...

Natasha

Come on—be helpful, Mark. The caterers have totally screwed up—does nothing work outside of London?

Mark

I better...

Bridget

Listen...I just wanted to say I owe you an apology...about Daniel. He said you ran off with his fiancee. Broke his heart, he said.

Mark

Ah. No. Other way round. My...wife. My... heart.

Bridget

I’m sorry. And that’s why you always behaved so weirdly with him. And why you beat him to a pulp. Quite rightly. Well done.

Mark

Well...

Bridget

Look—ahm—could we just pop in here for a second.

They move into a slightly odd private place—under the stairs or something—amongst coats. She talks very fast.
 

Bridget (cont’d)
There’s something I have to say. You once, unexpectedly, said that you liked me as I was—something no bastard boyfriend has ever done—and I just wanted to say that... well...likewise, you know—you wear stupid things your Mum buys you—tonight’s another classic— you’re haughty and you always say the wrong thing in every situation and I think you should rethink the length of your  sideburns. But you’re a nice man and I like you...and, well, whatever—you know my address and if you drop by soon, it would be nice. More than nice.

Mark
(giving nothing away)

Right. Crikey.

Long pause. Neither of them know what to say. Both just about to speak when...Mark’s father hits a glass with a spoon. It’s a toast.
 

Mark (cont’d)
Fuck. Excuse me.

Bridget

Of course.

He walks away.

[Mark’s Father’s speech]

A real gasp from everyone—that turns into applause, and a bit of shouting. Cut to very smug Natasha—and very abashed Mark.
 

Mark’s Father (cont’d)
So I ask you now to charge your glasses once again to...Mark and his Natasha!

Before anyone can take up the toast, a lone voice cuts through.
 

Bridget
No! Nooooo!

FANTASY: WHAT BRIDGET WANTS TO SAY:

Mark, Natasha, the Darcys, Bridget’s Mum and Dad, the Alconburys go into their usual fantasy slo-mo.
 

Bridget
Stop! Stop! Mark. For God’s sake, don’t get tricked into marrying some posh girl who’s just been waiting and pounced at the right moment. It’s the classic 30-something compromise—marriage as merger. Please, please. Get the fuck out of it now!

We then cut back to Bridget—she hasn’t said any of this.
 

Guests
Mark and Natasha!

Through the cries of “Mark and Natasha”/”Natasha and Mark”, we see Bridget, thinking about what she has just imagined—what she’d like to say—she screws up her will for the single most important time in her life, and, this time for real, starts again:
 

Bridget
No! Nooooo!

This time of course everyone really reacts, in real time—everyone turns to stare: Mark, Natasha, the Darcys, Bridget’s Mum and Dad, the Alconburys.
 

Bridget (cont’d)
It’s just that it’s the most terrible pity—for England—to lose such a great legal brain—and for...the people of England, people like you and me, to lose...one of our top people. Our top person really. It’s a real... shame. Not to mention the fact that—incidentally—Mark—I love you. Sorry. Needed to be said though. Better dash—got another party must go to—lots of single people—mainly poofs. So...byeee...

Deathly silence. Bridget turns and makes for the door—and just trips on the carpet as she goes.
 

Bridget (cont’d)
Whoops.

Cut back to Mark and Father—and Natasha—totally perplexed.
 



 
New York Airport

Mark and Natasha just emerging having picked up and done customs etc. She calmly slips her arm through his as they head through. Waiting for them holding a sign saying Mark & Natasha is a very smartly dressed young man—clearly a keen junior lawyer from the firm.
 

Bernard
Mark, Natasha. Welcome to New York. (He points to his big specially chosen red tie) I am your red carpet. The name’s...

[short cut to Bridget]
 

Bernard
It is great to see you guys. Really superb. We have been so impressed by your work Mark—and yours, Natasha. Human rights is absolutely key stuff at Abbott & Abbott. Although you know—not that it matters to you Brits I know—but I should tell you, this is also a VERY profitable firm you are moving into, to say that all the partners are more than millionaires would be an understatement.

Mark

Damn.

He stops dead.
 

Bernard
What—can I help?

Mark

Not really, no. Ahm—truth is, John, is it John?

Bernard

No, Bernard. (said in the American way—stress on ‘ard)

Mark

Bernard (in the English way)

Bernard

BernARD

Mark

Right—Ber-whatever. Truth is, I’ve gone and left something...behind.

Bernard

On the luggage carousel?

Mark

No, more...

Natasha

O, not on the plane, Mark?

Mark

Well, no—more rather—further back—in...ah...in...ah...London, in fact.

Bernard

O don’t worry about that—we can Fedex anything.

Mark

Well no—actually, this might be hard to Fedex—very, well, no, quite....heavy. Look, you just head on and I’ll...

Looks up to check TV above saying ‘Departures.’
 

Mark (cont'd)
I’ll sort this out. Terrible timing I know—but I’m an arse—and Natasha is really ‘superb’—just ‘superb’. And, to be honest, (to her) better off without me.

Bernard

I’m going to find this hard to explain to Mr Abbott and Mr Abbott. Are you sure about this, Mark?

Mark

Yes. Quite sure. Bye.

He kisses Natasha quickly on the cheek, then turns and simply sprints down the long glass corridor away from them.
 

Natasha
Mark. Mark! Marky!!!!!


 
Final Scenes

The friends are now all packed tight in the little car. Bridget stands on the steps. With cold little fingers, she searches in her bag for the keys, can’t find them. She pours the contents of her bag onto the pavement.
 

Bridget
O damn.

Tears begin to plop down her cheeks.

Suddenly, the camera changes focus and there, on the opposite side of the street—like a stalker, or a ghost—is Mark Darcy, standing beside his car, watching her. Still dressed in exactly the clothes he wore at the airport.
 

Tom
(out a wound-down window)
Come the fuck on Bridget!

Sharon nudges him in the car—and points—all three of them turn—and see Mark—he doesn’t see them seeing him—he continues to look just at Bridget. They stare at him open-mouthed. Bridget finds the keys.
 

Bridget
Thank God.

She locks the door and turns. And there Mark is. They look at each other. Then he walks slowly across the street.
 

Mark
Bridget

Bridget

What are you doing here?

Mark

Looking for you.

Bridget

What?

Mark

Don’t say ‘what?’ Bridget—say ‘pardon.’ I just wanted to know if you were available for Bar Mitzvahs and christenings as well as Ruby Weddings? Excellent speech.

Bridget

I’m so, so sorry. (beat) I thought you were in America.

Mark

Well, yes—I was—but then I remembered I’d forgotten something back home.

Bridget

Which was?

Mark

Ahm—I’d forgotten to kiss you goodbye...Do you mind?

Bridget

Not really, no.

He moves to kiss her...


Bridget (cont’d)
So you’re not going to America?

Mark

No, not.

Bridget

You’re staying here?

Mark

It would seem so.

He moves to kiss her again; but just doesn’t make it, because there is a tremendous tooting and hooting from the now very fogged up car down the street. And lots of shouting—‘Hooray’, ‘Hooray’, ‘That’s my girl’.
 

Mark (cont’d)
Friends of yours?

Bridget

Never seen them before in my life.

He moves to kiss her again.
 

Sharon
Look—are you coming to Paris or not?

Bridget

Not.

Mark

Maybe we should go upstairs for a minute.

Bridget

Good idea.

[Inside Bridget’s flat]

Mark and Bridget are entering from the snow.
 

Bridget
Excuse—there’s just a little something I must...I’ll be with you in a minute. Keep yourself busy—read something. Lots of very high quality magazines with very useful romance and fashion tips.

She goes out of the room. Mark looks over all the copies of Hello and Red and Cosmopolitan. Then his eyes light upon her diary. She’d been warned. He reaches to pick it up.

Bridget is changing from big pants to little knickers.
 

Bridget
Definitely an occasion for genuinely tiny pants.

She lifts up her skirt to remove the big pants she was wearing.

Meanwhile Mark reads a bit of the diary...we see what he reads—with increasing horror as he flicks the pages...
 

What the Diary Says
“Mark is a prematurely middle-aged prick”—“I hope he dies of a heart attack and they find he wasn’t wearing clean pants”—“a real geek.” “I dislike him intensely.”


Mark
Right. Right.

He closes the diary quietly, and walks out the door.

Bridget is half way through changing. Perhaps now has on her top half only. She hears the heavy slam of the door. She rushes out, and sure enough...No one’s there. She looks out the window and sees Mark walking away. It is still snowing. She opens the window and shouts out.
 

Bridget
Mark! Mark!

He doesn’t hear—or won’t hear—as he strides down the street. She looks at the diary. Reads the words ‘utterly hateful boring snob’.
 

Bridget (cont’d)
O shit.

And has to decide what to do.
 

O double shit.

She charges down the stairs. Bridget in bare feet and legs sprints out into the snow past Mr Ramdas and a couple of Greek waiters.
 

Bridget
Wish me luck!

Waiters & Ramdas

Good luck, crazy girl.

She reaches the main street—turns a corner.

[High Street]

It is snowing. Bridget turns on to the main high street. She can’t see Mark. Then up ahead she sees Mark turn the corner. She runs after him.

Bridget staring wildly around her. Suddenly Mark emerges from the shop, which has a constant flow of very respectable middle-aged ladies. He looks at the under-dressed shivering Bridget in the snow.
 

Bridget
Mark, Mark—I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it—I mean, I meant it—but I was stupid you see, so I didn’t mean what I meant...

Pause.
 

For Christ’s sake—it’s only a diary—and it’s common knowledge diaries are just full of crap.

Pause.
 

Mark
I know that.

He holds up a little leather book.
 

I was just buying you a new one. Time to start again, perhaps.

Total joy—she jumps up on him—arms right around his neck, feet in the air—and hugs him.
 

Mark (cont’d)
(to on-lookers)
Sorry. Heroin is a terrible drug.

And then they kiss. It lasts a genuine amount of time. They split apart—Bridget is a little breathless—and confused.


Bridget
Wait a minute—nice boys don’t kiss like that.

Mark

O yes, they do.

Both smile—both know the future is full of strange delights.




 
Credits Sequence

Parent’s House. Garden 1960s

Home Movie Footage shows Bridget Jones, 4 years old, tormenting Mark Darcy, 8n years old. The setting is Bridget’s parents garden—swing, slide, paddling pool—and Bridget is clearly crazy about Mark: hugging him, trying to kiss him, mugging at the camera. Mark seems mortified, constantly trying to get away. In the background their parents, in outrageous 60’s clothes.

At the paddling pool, Bridget takes off her clothes and walks back to Mark. He looks uncomfortable—but then smiles and kisses her. Baby Bridget radiantly happy—Mark not unhappy. Freeze.


 
Bonus (Crispin Bonham-Carter's only lines)

After Daniel tells Bridget that he is engaged to Lara...
 

Simon from Marketing
Hello, Bridget—it's Simon from Marketing.

Bridget

Hello, Simon.

Simon from Marketing

I've just heard that Danny boy's engaged—no wonder he's looking so chipper—just wanted to be the first to say "Congratulations." Well done, babe, really hit the jackpot.

Bridget

Thank you.

She hangs up—the phone rings again.
 

Dave from Sales
Hello, Miss Jones—it's Dave from Sales. Tom's just told me. (Mock Italian) Congratoolationees—who would have thought you'd make it as the Great Cheesess—good on you, sister.

Bridget

Thank you, Dave.

She hangs up. Phone goes again. Bridget answers.
 

Greg from Design
Bridget—it's Greg from Design.

Bridget

Before you go any further, Bernie, do you think it might be helpful for me to point out that Daniel's not marrying me—he's marrying some blonde bitch from Brooklyn whose pubic hair is the colour of coal—so you better tell everyone that the next person who rings me I will personally castrate.

Greg

O right. Sorry. Gotta run.

Bridget

That's okay. Have a nice day.

The phone goes again. She picks it up and talks straight away.
 

Bridget (cont'd)
Right—you son of a bitch. Get your fucking facts straight—I'm not getting married—on the contrary, I'm going off to a pet store to buy an alsatian to eat me later this evening.

 
To Latest News Read the continuing columns from The Telegraph Read about the supporting cast On location with Bridget What's on the soundtrack See publicity pics from the movie and links to the trailer Need to have inner poise, to the reviews New frock, scarry pants - am ready for red carpet A special from Horse and Hounds

 
Click on boots to contact me  And now back to the studio

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