Bridget, Jeremy and Me

People that I like tend not to like Bridget Jones, Jeremy Clarkson, Britain's Got Talent, or people who drive Range Rovers. Or the Daily Mail, but that's different.

I am currently in the middle of 'Mad About The Boy', with "Is It Really Too Much To Ask?" lying by my side, missing my Range Rover and looking forward to tonight's 'Battle of the Bands" - this beach resort's version of BGT, and I am inspired!  I can write like BJ and JC! (I think..)

There are only two differences between me and Bridget Jones. 

One is that she's a Mother Who Tries Too Hard, while I favour the Benign Neglect approach.

Two is that she's made up and I exist.

There are also two differences between me and Jeremy Clarkson.  

I sometimes worry that I might have upset someone.

And I am not a bloke.

Bridget Jones is not believable because she claims to be a Sloane but says 'toilet', and also, in the book a 29 year old hunky decent bloke falls for her via twitter without even a photograph.  The chances of that are one in seventy-five trillion, as Clarkson might say.

Bridget Jones' books are structured over a blog-type thought occurring every minute or two.  Clarkson's all resound with, 'And there's the thing' every three pages, when he instructs us all on how easily he could achieve world peace.  Well I think I can probably copy both of them and publish a bestseller.

 The problem is that  if I do, the people I like won't like me.