Can a single woman over 30, who smokes too much, drinks too much, and has a tendency to say whatever comes into her mind, find her place in the world... and a man? Bridget Jones is an assistant at a London book publisher, feeling time pass her by. When Daniel Cleaver, her boss, starts flirting with her in a vulgar way, she plunges straight in. An affair ensues and she's head over heels. She also keeps running into Mark Darcy, a reserved even stiff barrister who has known her since she was a child young enough to frolic naked in his wading pool, seems to look down his nose at her, and hates Cleaver (truth is, Daniel may be a bit of a bounder). What are Bridget's choices?
Mark Darcy: I don't think you're an idiot at all. I mean, there are elements of the ridiculous about you. Your mother's pretty interesting. And you really are an appallingly bad public speaker. And, um, you tend to let whatever's in your head come out of your mouth without much consideration of the consequences... But the thing is, um, what I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that, um, in fact, perhaps despite appearances, I like you, very much. Just as you are.
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