Bridget Jones's Diary

For a man it is somehow acceptable to take sex whenever it is offered but even in this day and age it is hard not to feel used and a slag if it's just once

Monday 30 June

9st; alcohol units 4, cigarettes 12 (excellent), Instants 4 (supporting Millennium).

Find it strangely hard to care about Hong Kong apart from fact that Chris Patten is quite attractive and his daughters definitely so, apart from too much crying. Weirdly, find self considering Tony Blair same person as Chris Patten (in same way used to consider junior school headmistress as the same person as the Queen).

Maybe it's because both are the same type of politician: ie could imagine oneself willingly sleeping with them. Odd, then, that they are in different parties. Maybe Chris Patten will come and be leader instead of William Hague, then parties will be indistinguishable.

Weird, also, that men do not have communal changing-rooms, but then wee in communal urinals. We girls would not wee in front of each other unless ... oh God. To think how close I came to sleeping with Daniel last ... aaargh.

Was Richard Finch interrupting train of thought by bumping himself on head with a halogen balloon shaped like William Hague. Honestly, how can I be expected to come up with programme ideas if I do not have, like, faith?

"Bridget!" he yelled, "Bloody, bloody, bloody Bridget. I am asking you a question. I am thinking Millennium Dome, I'm thinking Milly-Molly-Mandy. I'm thinking what in the name of arse is Mandelson going to put in it? What do you think would excite Euan?"

"Euan McGregor?"

"Oh God," he groaned, crouching, holding his hands over his head. He was wearing a dark green frock coat splaying out to reveal a bright yellow lining.

It may well have been Galliano, or even part of Anthea Turner's new range for Littlewoods, but it was most unattractive. Actually I rather like Anthea's purple velvet ...

"Bridguuuuuut!" he bellowed. "Are you a mongol?"

"Actually," I said coldly, "I don't think jokes about ability-challenged people are very funny. Anyway, it's not a mongol, it's Down's syndrome."

"F*** off, f*** off, f*** off," he said.

"What. Would. You. Put. In. The. Millennium. Dome?"

"Hmm," I said, slowly and thoughtfully.

"Baaaaaaah!" roared Richard, leaping to his feet, wobbling like a caged jelly. "I'm thinking Science Museum, and I'm thinking excitement. When you were a child, what did you like?"

"I liked in the Science Museum, when they showed how astronauts go to the toilet," I said. There was an impressed pause, which encouraged me to continue. "They should have dinosaurs and a really scary ride where you plunge into the new millennium and get a certificate. They should get a dead Egyptian mummy, and tell you what the Yorkshire Ripper actually did to his victims. Also, they should have Harvey Nichols. And maybe a video camera to record everyone's good ideas for the new millennium: like having children's areas on airplanes in soundproof boxes and making credit-card payment machines go over your hand in shops so you feel pain when you spend.

"Then they should show liposuction and other operations actually being performed and the bit of ear Mike Tyson bit off and also that mouse they grew with an ear on its back. And to celebrate the next millennium of genetic cloning you should be able to have your favourite person who has already got a girlfriend or wife cloned in manner of Dolly the sheep so you could have one for yourself, eg Mr Darcy."

Just then my phone rang.

"So where were you?" It was Daniel. Oh God. Last night I rang him in the middle of the night to tell him where Germany was. Sort of thing that could happen to anyone - since Daniel upset me by telling Tom he'd chucked me because I did not know where stupid ex-Nazi state was.

"One moment, please," I said, then put my hand over the mouthpiece. "Those are my ideas," I said sweetly but firmly to Richard Finch. "I don't want anyone copying them. I want market rates like that executive woman. Now if you'll excuse me ..."

"So," said Daniel. "Couldn't you remember where Fulham was?"

Huh. Once I had proved I knew the whereabouts of Germany last night he asked me to come round, and sent a taxi. But hee hee, I sent it away. You see, the thing was I did want to sleep with him as v sexy idea but self-respect showed me if a man only wants you for your knowledge of geographical positions then that is a bit odd.

Truth is though, if you are single it is nice to have sex whenever you can, which is the problem with being a girl. For a man it is somehow acceptable to take sex whenever it is offered but even in this day and age it is hard not to feel used and a slag if it is just once. Also your emotions might get set off. Yet why should this be thus?

Suddenly was aware of Daniel going, "Twelve Jimmineejack thirteen jimmineejack,"

"What's going on?" I said indignantly.

"It's three minutes and 14 seconds since you've said anything. Do you want me to take you out for dinner tonight or what?"

"I'll call you back," I said, then rang Magda. After discussing the situation at some length she said her son Harry - who is four - wanted to talk to me.

"I've got a good idea for a trick," he said.

"What?"

"Tell that chap you want to go out with him, then dump him."

"Oh my God," screamed Magda, grabbing the phone. "I didn't know he was listening."

Think the new generation might be right, however. What, after all, have all these years of female emancipation been for? Think will simply use Daniel for sex then not call in manner of a man. So I'm going to ring him back and say yesn

The novel of `Bridget Jones's Diary' is just out in paperback: Picador (pounds 5.99)