Friday, 30 October 2009

Film 9: BRIDGET JONES' DIARY - Oh this is just rubbish

No no no, I don't like this at all. This is AWFUL. And I wish Hugh Grant wouldn't keep on talking about the Prime Minister, it's just getting surreal now.
We've definitely gone up a social class from Love Actually, we're no longer slumming it in Marks and Spencer, we're right up at Fortnum's. In the BIG CREAM CAKE aisle eh Bridget?
It really is late, and I'm trapped in a room with a body dysmorphic woman going on and on and on and on about how bloody fat she is. She's not kooky and lovable, she's incredibly annoying, and here's a thought, perhaps cutting out pictures of thin women in magazines and sticking your head on top of them and sticking them next to your desk at work might explain why your co-workers won't talk to you.

I don't claim to know THAT much about women, alright, next to nothing but, after these 18 long hours, I'm sure that most women aren't all as insecure, neurotic, jealous, backstabbing, self-pitying and annoying as pretty much every heroine in romcoms, and women are supposed to relate to these people? The most depressing thing is that, looking at the credits, so many of these creations are made by women. I doubt there's a cynical male ploy to erode female self-esteem, I suppose male heroes are unrealistic swaggering cocks too, but after the grind of this endless day, my over-riding impression of the female psyche is that it's too much bother to be bother with, which is WRONG WRONG WRONG.

Look at Ripley in Alien. Alright, one could argue that it's Sigourney Weaver nimmy nim male fantasy nimmy nim waving a big gun shooting aliens nim, but give me a iron-jawed fiercely maternal survivalist she-queen over these ridiculous simpering empty vessels who claim to be independent and strong, but who waste hours after hours of my time moaning because Hugh Grant doesnt want to be special friends with them any more. Fantasising about calling someone a ruddy arsebum and then running home for a cry and a dance to Shaka Khan does a disservice to 50% of the human race. Well, less the percentage that ARE annoying vacuous needynims.

Am I right sisters????


  1. I've chosen to forgo sleep to give you some moral support.....oh lordy lordy if you think this is dross pray she doesnt pull out part 2...

  2. ok and now there's my first typo of the night but i am 3/4's of a litre of vodka down by now....that should have been forego