Bridget Jones's Baby Page #4

Bridget’s phone pings again. She reads a text from JUDE. A

vomiting emoji, four BABY FACE emojis and a SAD FACE emoji.

A third ping. TOM: “Where are you? Get your freak on, b*tch?”

BRIDGET (CONT’D)

Thank God for the gays!

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

16

22 INT. GYM. STROBE CYCLE. NIGHT. 22

Bridget enters a strobe-lit gym, almost tripping over. A

large sign reads STROBE CYCLE. Loud, gay club anthems bang

out.

TOM O.S.

Okay ladies, click in.

TOM, at the front of the class, on a spinning cycle. He’s

manning the record decks while simultaneously cycling and

speaking into a head-mic.

TOM:

Whatever fears, whatever

insecurities you’re bringing in

with you today, I want you to take

those fears and tell them to F***

THE F*** OFF!

An adoring, pumped up crowd of lithe young female bodies

furiously pedalling. They whoop. “Alright!”. Bridget

struggles to click her shoes into the pedals.

TOM (CONT’D)

THIS moment is about YOU, your

body, your dreams, your POTENTIAL.

The music’s pumping up to a crescendo.

TOM (CONT’D)

Are you ready for this? Are you

ready for this?

The women yell orgasmically. The music swells.

TOM (CONT’D)

Now. Ride, sexy b*tches, ride!

And the women rise from their saddles and pedal like f***.

Tom sprays water at them. Bridget looks like she might have a

seizure.

23 INT. GYM. NIGHT. 23

Tom waving off the last Strobe Cyclist. Bridget, exhausted,

barely able to breathe.

BRIDGET:

(wheezing)

It will take me three martinis to

recover and you are buying.

TOM:

About that. I’m so sorry Bridget.

I’m going to have to blow you out

too.

Bridget masks her disappointment.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

17

TOM (CONT’D)

The thing is... I didn’t want to

have to tell you this today.

Eduardo and I are adopting.

BRIDGET.

Adopting what... a baby?

TOM:

No, a new stance on illegal

immigration! Yes, a baby, or a

gayby, in fact.

BRIDGET:

Oh Tom, this is fantastic news!

She gives him the biggest hug.

TOM:

I didn’t want to say anything

because we always do our “we’re

pointless-empty-husks- sticking-

together” thing. And I love that.

But truth is...if I’m being honest,

I feel it’s important for me, in

myself, to start caring for someone

other than me. And well, it looks

like we’ve been successful.

BRIDGET:

Brilliant.

TOM:

We’re going to Bogota to start the

official paperwork and I’ve got to

pack.

BRIDGET:

It’s alright. Go! Go!

Bridget is left alone on a bicycle.

24 INT. BRIDGET’S FLAT. NIGHT. DARKNESS. 24

Bridget, alone, lights a candle on a single cupcake. She

pours herself a glass of wine and reaches for a cigarette in

an old packet on top of the cupboard. Then thinks better of

it. The radio plays, “All By Myself”.

BRIDGET.

Oh f*** off!

She flicks it off.

25 INT. ST. PANCRAS STATION. DAY. 25

The station concourse is thronging with commuters.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

18

BRIDGET (V.O.)

Must not dwell on why the

biological clock, though clearly

ticking, has not compelled me yet

to Colombia, or Olly Husbands

Bosworth’s sperm, or even into the

arms of inappropriate men met on

Internet. Always thought I’d find

love of my life and then baby would

follow. I may be old of womb, but

will remain young at heart. Will

start to embrace life in manner of

thirty-something friends like

Miranda, who don’t seem to care

about settling, or babies, or

ticking clocks.

We tilt up from a pair of Hunter wellies, cut-off denim

shorts, a backpack. Miranda makes her way across the

concourse to meet Bridget.

We tilt up from a pair of elegant high-heels, a smart dress

and a giant wheelie suitcase. Bridget spots Miranda.

BRIDGET:

What the f***!

26 OMITTED 26

27 EXT. MUSIC FESTIVAL. DAY 27

Miranda and Bridget enter the festival. Bridget is wheeling

her smart suitcase through the mud with little success. There

are posters everywhere advertising bands or specific tents

and wherever there is a sign it features a ‘SPONSORED BY

QWANTIFY’ logo.

MIRANDA:

I didn’t tell you because I knew

you wouldn’t come. Anyway, it’s not

camping, it’s ‘glamping’.

BRIDGET:

Putting a ‘Gl’ before it doesn’t

make it any better. Calling him

Gladolf Hitler wouldn’t suddenly

make you forget all the

unpleasantness.

MIRANDA:

Come on Bridge, it’ll be fun. What

you need is a good shafting, some

good old fashioned, lie-back-and

think-of-England bonking. Festivals

are sexual free-for-alls, it’s like

Sodom and Gomorrah, with tofu.

Bridget looks at her.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

19

MIRANDA (CONT’D)

Seriously. It’s been five years.

You need to get out of this self-

imposed purdah you’ve been in since

you split up from “he whose name

shall not be mentioned.”

BRIDGET:

Rubbish, I barely think about him.

MIRANDA:

Prove it. The first man you meet,

you have to sleep with.

BRIDGET:

The first man?!

MIRANDA:

I’m not taking no for an answer.

We’ve got backstage passes, we’ll

be rubbing shoulders with

rockstars. And we’ve got yurts.

I got you this... in case of an

emergency.

Miranda holds out a loo roll and 2 plastic bags, One Lidl,

one Marks and Spencer’s - Bridget grabs the M&S bag.

A DREAD-LOCKED GUY approaches Bridget with a suspicious wrap.

DREAD-LOCKED GUY

Meow meow?

BRIDGET:

Woof woof.

(to Miranda)

I’m not sleeping with him.

Behind him is a poster advertising the literary tent, with a

picture of JACK QUANT - the caption reads ‘Algorithms Change

The World’.

MIRANDA:

(to Bridget)

I’ll get the backstage passes. You

find a map.

She strides off. Bridget heads in the opposite direction. As

she walks her heels gets stuck in the mud and as she steps

forward, she leaves it behind. She tries to go back to grab

it, but the other heel gets stuck, and she is caught in what

is effectively the splits, unable to extricate herself from

her shoes.

After a struggle she pulls one of the heels out.

JACK (O.C.)

That’s exactly why I didn’t wear my

heels.

Reveal JACK QUANT, an insanely handsome 45 year old American.

SHOOTING SCRIPT.

20

JACK (CONT’D)

May I?

He lifts the floundering Bridget out of the mud, rescues her

heel and places her safely at the top of the little hill. He

places her shoe back on her foot.

JACK (CONT’D)

It fits!

Bridget laughs, faintly embarrassed.

BRIDGET:

Thank you... I....

Miranda appears waving wellies and shorts. She shouts.

MIRANDA:

Bridget!

JACK:

Is that your wicked stepmother?

BRIDGET:

I should go, or she’ll have me

sweeping fireplaces all afternoon.

Nice to meet you...

She’s already heading off.

JACK:

It’s Jack...

28 EXT. CAMPSITE. DAY. 28

Bridget and Miranda faced with a hundred identical yurts.

BRIDGET:

Right. Which one’s ours?

29 INT. YURT. DAY 29

Miranda and Bridget open the door to reveal one bed.

MIRANDA:

Cosy.

BRIDGET:

Intimate.

Miranda breaks out a bottle of vodka - hands it to Bridget,

who tucks straight in.

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