|10st 5 (wishful thinking). Cigarettes:
0. Alcohol 1 (seemed impolite to turn down free glass of soave). Giggling fits: 2.
Invited to screening of Bridget Jones's Diary, film based on Helen Fielding's zeitgeisty page-turner. Fell in love with Zellweger as the eponymous fuckwit singleton, torn between charming love rat Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant) and enigmatic yet aloof family friend Mark Darcy (Colin Firth). She's maniacally, giddily funny and boasting lovely deep and plummy accent. Brit actresses can gnash teeth all they like: she's perfect. Screenplay remains faithful to book, circumventing diary format with droll voiceover and captions. Soundtrack excellent too: viva Geri, Robbie etc. Peripheral characters short-changed - notably friends Shazza (Sally Phillips), Jude (Shirley Henderson) and extrovert gay Tom (James Callis); eager to spend more time with all three. Novel's best moments - Bridget's big pants, disastrous birthday dinner party, tantrums and traumas of over-bearing mother (Gemma Jones) and timid father (Jim Broadbent) - all present. Frequently hilarious: embarassed self with fits of gigglish delirium, eliciting filthy looks from Miss Selfridge girl in next seat. Suspect have just seen best British comedy of the year. Hurrah!.
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