Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason

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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 f*** 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 Christ's sakes, go!

- She's out. Unit Two, you got her?

- We see her.

Bridget, open the chute.

Open it.

Open your f***ing parachute!

Pull the thingy or you will diel

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, f***.

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 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.

Forget the Sistine Chapel, first example

of a poof interior designer gone mad...

What is Daniel Cleaver

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.

- 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.

In one hour, he'll be coming

in his secretary's mouth

while he rings to say

what he wants for starters.

Friends spend years

finding you a boyfriend,

then instantly tell you to dump him.

Even if he isn't shagging her already,

he's thinking about it.

A man dating a woman with large breasts

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

sleeping with Rebecca Gillies?

- If he says...

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