Comedy Tends To Come Out Of Things

There Are So Many Images Pushed At Women And So Many Ideas Of What You're Supposed To Be. I Think There's Too Much Of This Superwoman, This Woman With A Bottom Like Two Billiard Balls. There's No Real Celebration Of Just Being A Person.

Reminded Of Favorite Poem By Wendy Cope Which Goes: At Christmas Little Children Sing And Merry Bells Jingle. The Cold Winter Air Makes Our Hands And Faces Tingle. And Happy Families Go To Church And Cheerily They Mingle, And The Whole Business Is Unbelievably Dreadful If You're Single.

Singletons Should Not Have To Explain Themselves All The Time But Should Have An Accepted Status — Like Geisha Girls Do

Valentine's Day Purely Commercial, Cynical Enterprise, Anyway. Matter Of Supreme Indifference To Me.

I'd Been Working On The [bridget Jones's Baby: The Diaries Material] For Years, First, In The Independent Newspaper Columns And Then In The Various Versions Of The Movie Scripts.