Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)
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.
Bridget: It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.
Bridget: Thank you, Daniel, that is very good to know. But if staying here means working within 10 yards of you, frankly, I'd rather have a job wiping Saddam Hussein's arse.
Mark Darcy: Bridget!
Bridget: Mark... What are you doing here?
Mark Darcy: I was just wondering if you were available for Bar Mitzvahs and Christenings in addition to Ruby Weddings.
Bridget: I thought you were in America.
Mark Darcy: Well I was... but I realized I had forgotten something here.
Bridget: Which was...?
Mark Darcy: Well, I realized that I had forgotten to... kiss you goodbye, do you mind?
Bridget: Umm... not really, no. So... does this mean you're *not* going to America?
Mark Darcy: No... not.
Bridget: Does this mean you're staying here?
Mark Darcy: It would seem so...
Mark Darcy: [notices her friends cheering] Friends of yours?
Bridget: Oh, haha... never seen them before in my life.
Mark Darcy: Mother, I do not need a blind date. Particularly not with some verbally incontinent spinster who drinks like a fish, smokes like a chimney, and dresses like her mother.
Daniel Cleaver: Come on Bridget, we belong together - you, me, poor little skirt. If I can't make it with you then I can't make it with anyone.
Bridget: That's not a good enough offer for me.
Mark Darcy: I like you, very much.
Bridget: Ah, apart from the smoking and the drinking, the vulgar mother and... ah, the verbal diarrhea.
Mark Darcy: No, I like you very much. Just as you are.
Bridget: You once said you liked me just as I am and I just wanted to say likewise. I mean there are stupid things your mum buys you, tonight's another... classic. You're haughty, and you always say the wrong thing in every situation and I seriously believe that you should rethink the length of your sideburns. But, you're a nice man and I like you. If you wanted to pop by some time that might be nice... more than nice.
Mark Darcy: Right, crikey.
Bridget: Did I really run round your lawn naked?
Mark Darcy: Oh, yes. You were four and I was eight.
Bridget: Well, that's a pretty big age difference. It's quite pervy really.
Mark Darcy: Yes, I like to think so.
Bridget: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. Well, I meant it, but I was so stupid that I didn't mean what I meant... After all, it's only a diary. Everyone knows diaries are just... full of crap.
Mark Darcy: Yes, I know that. I was just buying you a new one.
[From the UK release]
Bridget: Bridget Jones, wanton sex goddess, with a very bad man between her thighs... Mum... Hi.
Mark Darcy: I realize that when I met you at the turkey curry buffet, I was unforgivably rude, and wearing a reindeer jumper.
Bridget: [to Cosmo and Woney] Tell me, is it one in four marriages that end in divorce these days, or one in three?
Mark Darcy: One in three.
[Bridget glimpses Mark for the first time]
Bridget: Perhaps this is the mysterious Mr. Right I have been waiting my whole life to meet.
[sees reindeer sweater]
Bridget: Maybe not.
Daniel Cleaver: I've been going crazy. I can't stop thinking about you, and thinking about what an idiot I've been. Christ, is that blue soup?
[regarding the blue soup]
Bridget: How's it look?
Mark: Uh, great. It's, um, blue.
Mark: No, but, blue is good. If you ask me there isn't enough blue food.
Bridget: Oh, shit! It must be the string.
Mark: Oh, it's string soup?
Tom: Well done Bridge, four hours of careful cooking and a feast of blue soup, omelette and marmalade. I think that deserves a toast, don't you? To Bridget, who cannot cook, but who we love
[in an undertone]
Tom: just as she is.
Richard Finch: Why do you wanna work on television?
Bridget: I've got to leave my job because I shagged my boss.
Richard Finch: Fair enough. Start on Monday.
Bridget: I owe you an apology about Daniel. He said you ran off with his fiancée and left him brokenhearted.
Mark Darcy: No, it was the other way around. My wife. My heart.
Daniel Cleaver: Now these are very silly little boots, Jones. And this is a very silly little dress. And, um, these are, fuck me, absolutely enormous panties.
Bridget: Jesus. Fuck.
Daniel Cleaver: No, no. Don't apologize. I like them. Hello, Mummy.
Daniel Cleaver: I'm sorry, I have to have another look. They're too good to be true.
Daniel Cleaver: They're nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm wearing something similar myself.
Mark Darcy: I should have done this years ago.
Daniel Cleaver: Done what?
Mark Darcy: This.
[Darcy punches Cleaver, hard]
Daniel Cleaver: Ow. Fuck me, that really hurt. What the fuck do you think you're doing?
Mark Darcy: This.
[Darcy punches Cleaver again, even harder]
Perpetua: Anyone going to introduce me?
Bridget: [to herself] Ah. Introduce people with thoughtful details. Perpetua, this is Mark Darcy. Mark is a prematurely middle-aged prick with a cruel raced ex-wife. Perpetua is a fat-ass old bag who spends her time bossing me around.
Bridget: Maybe not.
Perpetua: Anyone going to introduce me?
Bridget: Ah, Perpetua. This is Mark Darcy. Mark is a top barrister. Comes from Grafton Underwood. Perpetua is one of my work colleagues.
Daniel Cleaver: [after crashing through the window] Uhh... Jesus. All right.
Mark Darcy: All right?
Daniel Cleaver: Enough.
Mark Darcy: Enough enough.
[Darcy begins to walk away]
Daniel Cleaver: Wanker.
[Darcy punches him hard, knocking Cleaver down]
Daniel Cleaver: If you have to travel alone, travel in style.
Bridget: Here is the man we like to call Mr., uh,
Bridget: Titspervert. Titspervert.
Bridget: Fitzherbert. Because... that is his name.
Mark Darcy: All right Cleaver, outside.
Daniel Cleaver: [half laughing] I'm sorry? Outside? Should I bring my dueling pistols or my sword?
Bridget: Are you staying at your parents for New Years?
Mark Darcy: Yes. You?
Bridget: Ah, no. Was at a party in London last night, I'm afraid I'm a bit hungover.
Bridget: Wish I could be home with my head in a toilet like all normal people...
Bridget: ...ah! New Year's Resolution: drink less... and quit smoking... and quit talking total nonsense to strangers... actually, quit talking, full stop.
Mark Darcy: Yes. Well. Perhaps it's time to eat.
Bridget: Look, are you and Cosmo in on this together? Because every time I see you, you seem to go out of your way to make me feel like a *complete* idiot. And you really needn't bother: I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway - with or without the fireman's pole.
Daniel Cleaver: [lands on restaurant table] I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!
Mark Darcy: [places hand in someone's salad] Oh, God! I'm sorry!
[wipes dirty hand on man's suit]
Mark Darcy: I really am sorry. I-I will pay.
Daniel Cleaver: Had enough Darcy?
Mark Darcy: Not quite, if that's all right by you.
[punches Daniel hard]
Waiter: Happy birthday to you...
[everyone joins in, stopping fight]
Waiter: Happy birthday to you!
Mark Darcy: Happy birthday dear what's-his-name...
Daniel Cleaver: Happy birthday to you...
[tackles Darcy, both fly out window]
Bridget: [referring to Darcy's and Cleaver's bad relationship] That's why you always acted so strangely around him, and beat him to a pulp quite rightly.
Bridget: Well done.
Bridget: This is an occasion for genuinely tiny knickers.
Interviewer: What do you think about the El Nino phenomenon?
Bridget: It's a blip. Latin music's on its way out.
[From the trailer]
Bridget: Bridget Jones, wanton sex goddess, with a very bad man between her thighs... Dad... Hi.
Bridget: Daniel, what you just did is actually illegal in several countries.
Daniel Cleaver: That is one of the reasons that I'm so thrilled to be living in Britain today.
Daniel Cleaver: First, have some more wine, and then tell me the story about practicing French kissing with the art girls at school, because it's a very good story.
Bridget: It wasn't French kissing.
Daniel Cleaver: Don't care, make it up. That's an order, Jones.
Tom: Whose side are we on?
Shazzer: Mark's, of course. He never dumped Bridget for some naked American.
Bridget: But he did shag Daniel's fiancée and left him broken-hearted.
Tom: You're right, it's a tough one to call.
Bridget: So what do you think of the situation in Chechnya?
Daniel Cleaver: I couldn't give a fuck, Jones.
Lara: [to Daniel, about Bridget] I thought you said she was thin.
Bridget: [as Una Alconberry] No, Pam. Besides, the gravy needs sieving.
Mark Darcy: [as Pamela Jones] Surely not, just stir it Una.
[UK and USA release]
Julian: [to his manicurist] Careful, you ham-fisted cow!
Jude: Just as you are? Not thinner? Not cleverer? Not with slightly bigger breasts or slightly smaller nose?
Shazzer: Well, fuck me.
Tom: This is someone you hate right?
Bridget: Yes, yes, I hate him.
[bursting into a Greek restaurant]
Tom: FIGHT. Come on then, it's a real fight.
Daniel Cleaver: [to Mark Darcy] My, what a gripping life you do lead.
Mark Darcy: Natasha, this is Bridget Jones. Bridget, this is Natasha. Bridget works in a publishing house and she used to play around naked in my paddling pool.
Pam Jones: [to Bridget] Frankly darling, if I had the chance again I wouldn't have had children.
Bridget: Apparently, I used to run round naked in his paddling pool.
Daniel Cleaver: I bet you did, you dirty bitch.
Mark Darcy: [about Bridget's attempt at caper berry gravy] I have to say, this really is the most incredible shit.
Shazzer: Look, are you coming to fucking Paris or not?
Bridget: Um, not.
Shazzer: No fucking room, anyway.
Bridget: Resolution #1: Uggg - will obviously lose 20 lbs. #2: Always put last night's panties in the laundry basket. Equally important: will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits, or perverts. Will especially stop fantasizing about a particular person who embodies all these things.
Bridget: What are we going to do about this dinner, then?
Mark: We have blue soup to start, orange pudding to end, and, well, for a main course you have, uh, congealed green gunge.
Bridget: [voiceover] Resolution number one: obviously, will lose twenty pounds. Number two: will find nice sensible boyfriend and not continue to form romantic attachments to alcoholics, workaholics, peeping-toms, megalomaniacs, emotional fuckwits or perverts.
Mark Darcy: [pauses during fight to sing] Happy birthday dear what's-his-name...
Pam Jones: [to Bridget] You'll never get a boyfriend if you look like you wandered out of Auschwitz.
[uncut international releases, USA video and dvd releases]
Julian: [to his manicurist] Careful, you ham-fisted cunt!
Pam Jones: [to Bridget on 'phone] I must say the sex is still quite surprising. Do you know just the other day I was just dozing off and I felt this huge...
Bridget: Bye mum.
Bridget: [rummaging through her fridge] Where the fuck's the fucking tuna?
[imitating her line on TV]
Bridget: This is Bridget Jones, with Sit Up Britain, searching for tuna.
Mr. Darcy: I like a woman with an arse you can park a bike in and balance a pint of beer on.
Bridget: My mum, a strange creature from the time when pickles on toothpicks were still the height of sophistication.
Richard Finch: Neville, what the fuck is going on? She's supposed to be sliding down the pole, not climbing up it.
Shazzer: Introduce people with thoughtful details. Such as: "Sheila, this is Daniel. Daniel, this is Sheila. Sheila enjoys horse-riding and comes from New Zealand. Daniel enjoys publishing and comes..."
Bridget: ...all over your face?
Natasha: So how autobiographical is your work, Salman?
Salman Rushdie: You know, its an amazing thing, nobody has ever asked me that question.
Pam Jones: [as demonstrator at shopping mall] Yes... Now how many of you "have it oeuf"... have it oeuf... it's French... All you do is put the egg in here like this... and... up, down, up, down...
Pam Jones: ...and voila! Ooh, mind the over-spray, dear.
Daniel Cleaver: There once was a young woman from Ealing, / Who had a particular feeling. / She lay on her back, / And opened her crack, / And pissed all over the ceiling.
Bridget: The only thing worse than smug married couple; lots of smug married couples.
Shazzer: Exactly. I mean there's been all these bloody hints and stuff, but has he ever actually stuck his fucking tongue down your fucking throat?
Bridget: No. Not once!
Shazzer: Fuck 'em. Fuck the lot of 'em. Tell 'em they can stick fucking Leevis up their fucking asses.
Bridget: [narrating] Shazzer. Journalist. Likes to say "fuck."
Mark Darcy: That's not a sand piper, Bridget, it's a snowy plover.
Bridget: Sand pipers, plovers, albatrosses! Do I look like a bloody entomologist?
Mark Darcy: Ornithologist...