All language subtitles for Bridget.Jones.Mad.About.The.Boy.2025

Fuck, fuck, fuck! So late!

Mabel's put a scarf on the cat.

He's not a cat. He's my husband.

Where is he?

-Will he bring the ladies with the big boobies? -"Ladies"?

Last time, he brushed my hair with a fork.

There were three ladies, and they had an epic pillow fight.

-The fork had maple syrup on it. -Out of the way, darling.

-Well,

it's obvious he's not coming, so I'll just stay home.

You said this was the one thing you had to leave the house for this year.

You're right. I'm going.

Move, please, Mabes.

Fuck-- caccia.

Did we eat the focaccia?

Well, we haven't got any vegetables.

But lucky you, you get to have frozen peas. Mmm.

All right. Come to the table.

Come on.

One, two...

What am I going to do when I get to three?

Please enter alarm code.

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck!

-Please enter alarm code. -No! Don't put the flames out.

-We can toast marshmallows. -Please enter alarm code.

Please--

The tension of our bodies,

-the scars of--

Hello, Moto.

...in-- in our longing.

Bridget Jones, always exciting.

-How's the skirt? -Daniel, hi.

Just checking you have indeed forgotten about tonight.

That is hurtful, Jones. I have absolutely not forgotten.

-No.

I'm so sorry. It's my mother.

-She's in the hospital. - Oh.

-Primordial sweat. -I will be there

quicker than it took me to bring you to earth-shattering orgasm,

you filthy little harlot.

Love you, Mummy.

"Mummy"?

Darling, clever Geminita.

I'm gonna have to rush. It's a family emergency.

But I am loving this one.

I think-- I think we all are, aren't we?

Call me later, yeah?

Oh, yeah.

I am imminent, Jones. Imminent.

Un-bunch those giant panties.

Bloody zip manufacturers should be

cancelled for sociological bias.

It is actually impossible to do this on your own.

Help.

-Ooh. Thank you, monkeys.

Uncle Daniel!

Miniature Darcy, what's the news?

Where are the ladies with the big--

Hair? They couldn't make it, sadly.

They're, um... They're washing their hair.

All three?

Yeah, well, they wash each other's, you see.

I thought you said no more models.

Geminita is not a model, Jones.

She is a poet and a healer,

and a model.

Come here.

Hell of a night for you.

Ugh, I can't go. The children need me.

Uncle Daniel!

You. Right.

Get a fork and some syrup. I'm gonna style you.

- I found the cards. - Very good. Excellent.

Now then, we need to work on your bluffing and your cheating.

Life has its white notes...

and life has its black notes.

You look very beautiful tonight, Mrs Darcy.

Not looking so bad yourself, Mr Darcy.

Bridget.

Very black notes.

Jolly good. Come in. Weather's been a bit shitty, hasn't it?

-Though the cricket this year has been... -Jeremy.

...absolutely phenomenal.

This is what happened.

Mark Darcy, my husband,

father to Billy and Mabel,

died.

Or rather, was killed

in the Sudan on a humanitarian mission.

-Everybody's just upstairs. -Thanks.

And that was four years ago. Today, actually.

Brace yourself. It's a total fucking shit show.

And even though there might be 600,000 words in the human language,

the world still struggles to find the right ones

when someone you love is gone.

Bridget, how are the children?

- Mmm. -Are they--

Are they all right without you there?

-No. It's fine.

Left them some crystal meth in the kitchen.

Maybe not.

Well, we don't make a thing about it.

We celebrate Mark's birthday instead.

Oh.

So, Bridget, still on your own?

It's been four years now.

You're still in pretty good nick. Why no chap?

Now, now. It's not Bridget's fault. Very hard, being a middle-aged woman

-and finding yourself single. - Mmm.

Better if you're a bloke. Look at Binko Carruthers.

He's no oil painting,

but the second Rosemary died, he was inundated.

Of course, they were all of a certain age, though, weren't they?

Sorry, do you realise you said that out loud?

-Hmm?

"A certain age"? What, do you mean our age?

-That is the most... - Shazzer now hosts

a podcast calledFed Up,

in which she has dinner with minor celebrities

while basically getting furious about everything.

...sexist fucking universe we, unbelievably,

still continue to fucking inhabit.

I need to go to the toilet.

Oh.

Oh, dear.

Yeah, Jude. Yeah, I'm with her now.

Well, Shaz, tell her to come to The Golden Cock.

No, no, no. The party. It's for Mark.

That's not a party. That's a fucking bin fire.

And you think that Mark would want you to stay here and be insulted

in the fucking sexism Olympics?

To Mark.

-And to Bridget... - Aw.

...and the rare pleasure of seeing you

-in something not made of terry towelling.

- Tom, still living

handsomely off his one hit single

which had a comeback recently in a 30-second video of a dog doing maths.

Now, of all things, a life coach.

Honestly, I'd say it was a bit of a breakthrough,

speaking as your psychologist.

You're not my psychologist.

Well, I should be, yes.

According to the classic model,

you've actually made it to the fourth stage

-of the five stages of grief. -Wait. Isn't it seven stages?

What are you talking about, Jude? No, it isn't. It's five stages.

-Isn't it five? -Well, I always thought it was four.

It's definitely seven.

Jude, now CEO or COO

Or cto, definitely a C-something-O,

still regularly calling, in tears, from executive bathroom.

So, um, only one stage to go now, Bridge.

- Oh. - Stage five.

It's acceptance, which basically means

-you just have to get laid. -Oh, my God. Shazzer's right.

Yes. I mean, honestly, darling, look at yourself.

You've become a born-again virgin.

If you don't get laid soon, your vagina will literally reseal itself.

Yeah, and that is a thing.

It's called labial adhesion.

Oh, my God!

I knew leaving the kitchen was a mistake.

I don't want anyone else.

And even if I did, which I don't,

I'm non-viable, completely asexual,

and nobody will ever fancy me again.

-Ever, ever, ever. -No. No, no, no.

And I'm going to the toilet.

Crash and burn. That was a disaster.

Well, that was a fucking disaster.

Crikey. Have we been burgled?

We have not been burgled, Jones. No.

We have been marvellous. Now, tell me this.

For Tonya, do we think a kitten heel or a chunky wedge?

She's going to Wimbledon.

Wedge, obviously.

You may be right.

How was it? Any fun? Any tongue?

Ugh. God. No tongue. I have hung up my tongue.

How were they?

Well, the girl is you.

Lawless, romantic, irresistibly drawn to me.

Asked me if I was going to be her new daddy.

She does that.

Yeah. Wouldn't go to bed until I'd married her rabbit.

-Hmm. - Which I was very happy to do.

That rabbit is not at all unfanciable.

Hmm. And Billy?

Well, Billy is Darcy, isn't he?

Still waters and all that.

As it happens, Jones, your son

and I have a number of shared interests.

Oh, God. Like what?

Models.

He showed me his, I showed him mine.

-Hmm. -And then we-- we talked about death.

Did you?

Yeah. I told him being dead was shit.

And that I should know because I was for a bit.

And then, uh...

I gave him a hug 'cause he seemed a bit sad.

And then that made me sad because...

- How is your boy?

Enzo's, what? He's...

Uh, fuck knows, Jones. Fifteen, I think.

Anyway, we then cheered ourselves up by digging out the cocktail shaker,

and I taught him how to make a Dirty Bitch.

Saved it for you. It's in the fridge.

-Goody. Have it for breakfast.

Yeah, hello, hello, hello, hello.

Geminita.

Yeah, we're all done. All done. I'm on my way.

Well, as quick as I can.

Yes, like naughty old moth to eager young flame.

No, you hang up first.

And-- OK, kiss you back.

Yeah, OK. Louder. Yeah.

-Oh, my God.

Fuck off, Jones. OK, they're asleep.

Um... ...it did take a bit of time.

But I-- Actually I showed them a video of Geminita

reciting one of her prose poems and they were out like a light.

All right.

What happens now?

I'm trying to remember how it worked with our babysitters.

I think you give me 20 quid and try and shag me, don't you?

Ah, Daniel, dear Daniel.

At least some things never change.

It makes me sad though, Jones. You know...

two children and you all alone and effectively a nun.

Albeit, of course, a very, very naughty nun.

Bye, Daniel.

Yeah.

Thanks for tonight.

Yeah.

Why are these lights still on?

I thought you two were asleep.

Do you miss Dada sometimes?

I miss him all of the times.

There's my owl.

Back to bed. Come on.

-Story, Mama? - Mm-hmm.

For the baby princess is as kind as she is fair.

And the baby prince is as gentle as he is handsome.

And wherever they go and whatever they do,

Mummy and Daddy will always love them.

-And Saliva.

She stinks, Mabes.

-Oh!

-Good night, darling. -Good night, Mama.

Good night.

And all the thoughts...

And all the thoughts are going away.

They don't need little Billy and Mabel tonight.

The world will turn without them.

The stars will shine without them.

And all little Billy and Mabel need to do is rest and sleep.

Good night.

Night.

Good night, Billy.

-Do the song, Daddy. Please.

All by myself 47.

Shitballs.

No. Cock-bollocking fuck-bubbles!

Literally everyone else in the whole country

is laughing uproariously with their partners

while watching Netflix and having sex.

You don't want to wallow in it, darling.

And there they are again.

All the voices, all the advice.

You gotta wallow in it, Bridge. Wallow.

Grieve. G-r-e-i-v-e.

It's I-E. It's not E-I.

No, it's, "I before E except after C."

Yes, exactly.

God, you really are such a t-w-t-a.

- A what?

The thing about advice is,

no one tells you the same thing twice.

Bridget, you've got to put the children first.

Uh-huh. Thank you, Magda. Yes.

Put the children first.

Sod the children.

Put your own oxygen mask on first.

Right. Oxygen mask.

Got it.

One thing's for certain, Bridge.

Forget about sex. Oh.

OK.

No sex.

You need to have a lot of sex.

Yeah. Why don't you come back to work?

Thank you, Richard. I'll bear that in mind.

But as my dad said just before he died,

the big question is...

Can you survive?

I think so.

I have to.

I'm trying.

It's not enough to survive. You've got to live.

Is that the Dalai Lama?

It's Harry Styles, I think.

- Colin.

-Is that a sausage? -What sausage?

Bridget, you know what the doctor said about saturated fats.

Pam, could you take a photograph of us? Me and Bridget.

Um...

Colin, try not to do that with your chin.

I'm not doing anything with my chin.

Promise me you'll live, Bridget.

Smile!

Bridget Jones, it's time to live.

Right. You've got your pencil case,

your lunch, your homework?

-Your keys? - Ooh.

-Well,

you've definitely got your recorder so that's good.

Your lovely picture of a spaceship.

It's a cat.

Oh, yes. Of course it is, darling.

What paints did you use?

I used the lipsticks with the C's on them.

-Oh. So creative. -Handbag?

Oh, fuck a duck.

Hello, Billy.

Morning.

Hello, Mabel.

Morning, Bridget.

Hi.

Just the usual crap.

Are you going to be my new daddy?

- No, Mum! - No! Mum!

When I signed up for having children,

I did not sign up to be ruled by

a gaggle of computer crackheads.

Well, guess what?

I've had you, I've brought you up,

and I've changed my mind!

No! No, no, no!

Don't you touch those or I'll fucking enter you in Squid Game.

Here, darling.

-Come, come. -Mum!

Why don't we ever say hello?

Oh. Important life lesson, darling.

Never meet your heroes.

Starting today, will not set things on fire,

will responsibly reset passwords not to include the word "fuckwit,"

and will not be frightened of the school mums...

Hi.

...in particular, Perfect Nicolette...

...with her perfect twins.

Move the car! There's no parking in front of the school.

-How are you? -What?

I-I thought you were in LA.

-Right. -Mr Walliker?

Mr Walliker, Eros tells me he hasn't been selected for the choir for some reason.

-Correct. -Well, how can that be?

Because he can't sing. Anything else, Mrs Soltani-Watkins?

Mr Walliker, if you have failed to recognise Eros's obvious talents,

-that's hardly his fault. -It's really quite simple.

The choir, like everything else in nature, is chosen on merit.

Yeah, natural selection.

If Eros wants to put in the work, he's welcome to audition again.

If you'll excuse me. Bike!

-Bike! Not there. Not there.

Who's that?

Oh. New science teacher. Mr Walliker.

Instant hero.

Unbelievably rude.

He's awful.

Move along, please. Right away!

You two! This isn't a stroll on the heath.

You don't see me unfolding deck chairs and unwrapping sandwiches, do you?

Move it inside! It's choir in eight minutes.

Mr Walliker. Hello.

I don't believe we've met.

I'm Billy Darcy's mum.

The boy about to be diagnosed with tinnitus.

The whistle is an essential tool, Mrs Darcy.

Mmm. An essential tool?

What an apt description.

Eros! Atticus!

If you're late, you will regret it for the rest of your days.

-Sorry, sir!

No!

She'll be back later.

We have a doctor's appointment.

I've got worms!

Why is your granny wearing pyjamas?

That went well.

That's lovely, darling.

-There you go.

One tablet a day for the entire family,

and if her itching doesn't stop, I suggest you get rid of that cat.

Have you got some help yet?

I know it doesn't look it, but really,

-I've got it all in hand. -No, it doesn't look it.

Apart from anything else, I'm a gynaecologist, not a paediatrician.

And whilst I'm happy to step in, you do take my point.

If you say "oxygen mask" to me again, I will hit you with this handbag.

I am not afraid of handbags.

You need something else to do.

You need a reason to get out of those pyjamas.

Well, fashion's never really been your thing.

-Rude. -Pyjamas are all the rage in Milan.

Bridget, in spite of all objective evidence to the contrary,

you are a bright, talented, brilliant woman.

And my professional advice to you is this.

-You need-- -No. No, no, no.

Please don't tell me to go and have sex.

Oh, good Lord, no.

No.

Read a book. Clean out the kitchen drawers.

Leave the pink bits well enough alone.

You'll be ready when you're ready.

No, my professional advice to you is this:

go back to work.

And how's your love life?

On fire.

"Sy-p-lis."

- Mmm. -Syphilis. Mabel, Syphilis.

Syphilis.

Mmm. Very good. Very good.

And there's some delicious vegetarian alternatives here too.

Floods, fires and famine.

As the world teeters on the edge of climate catastrophe,

sausages aren't the only thing we are grilling today.

Environment Secretary Sarah Givens joins us after the break.

Hi.

Oh, thank God you picked up.

-What's the matter?

They've got the bloody Environment Secretary on in 45 seconds

and they've got me asking her questions about bloody tea bags.

"What's the best way to recycle tea bags?"

"Can you clean surfaces with tea"...

I need you, Bridget!

OK. Uh...

Ask her...

Ask her why there were no tax breaks for renewable energy

-in last week's budget. -Brilliant.

She'll fob you off with some crap about economic constraints

and then you nail her on oil and gas companies ring-fencing their profits.

-Yes, I do. - She'll flap!

And then you nuke her arse on the government's support for fracking.

Ooh.

I fracking love you, Bridget Jones.

-Hi, Bridge. -Yes!

Oh, oh, oh! Do try to find out about the tea bags though.

-Love you. Bye. Bye. -Love you. Bye!

Welcome back.

Our next guest is

Environment Secretary Sarah Givens.

Sarah, budget, tax breaks, fracking.

Justify.

And no fob-off!

Could you please put me through to Richard Finch's office?

My name's Bridget Jones.

Yeah. I'll hold. Thanks.

Billy, I want to watch SpongeBob.

Billy, come off that, please.

You've had your screen time.

One, two...

But, Mummy, it's Sunday.

No.

Can I watch SpongeBob?

May I watch SpongeBob.

Yes?

No, you've got to say, "may I," not "can I."

May I watch SpongeBob?

-No. -But, Mummy!

No, no, no, no.

No more screens, either of you.

Screens have been proven to shorten attention spans and...

-Ooh!

No.

Will you come and practise cricket with me in the garden?

Mummy really needs to work, darling. Why don't you play with Mabel?

She refuses to hit the ball. She says she feels sorry for Ball-y.

Ball-y.

Darling, please go and play cricket with Billy.

I may not!

Is it too much to ask to get some bloody peace all by my bloody self

for five bloody minutes?

Internet's down!

I want to watch SpongeBob.

Tell Billy it's my turn.

- Mummy! -I don't want to be a mummy right now.

You had it for ages!

I didn't even have it today. It's my turn!

- Mummy!

There's no Internet!

I just want to sit down

in echoing silence on my own for one moment.

- Mummy! Mummy! -Just shut up!

Shark bait!

Come and get it!

Okay. You asked for it!

Miranda?

All right, Bridge?

What're you doing here?

So I was reading the newspaper in Soho House

and it was so, so quiet, you know?

I just miss all this.

Off milk, stuff, clutter, children, life.

Plenty of that here.

You don't have any champagne.

Top tip:

always keep a cold bottle of champagne

in the fridge for emergencies.

That's excellent advice.

Cards on the table,

I'm thinking of unfreezing my eggs.

Apparently, everyone is going to Denmark

to get sperm.

-Oh. -Yeah.

But I want what you have. All of this.

But Soho House and-and Sunday papers and cold champagne--

You're free, Bridge.

You're liberated from the tyranny of this.

Do you know how many dating apps I use?

Could you look sexy?

Well, I mean...

I might still brush up OK given enough time.

No, I mean for this photo.

I've set you up on Tinder.

-What? -You're welcome.

-Oh, no, no, no, no, no. -Well, I've popped you down as a widow.

It's so much more romantic and singular.

We all agree it's what you need.

What's Tinder?

It's...

such a lovely day.

Who wants to, um, go to the heath?

-No, I don't wanna go! -No, SpongeBob!

Oh, OK. That's no problem.

Uh, sure.

Um, you stay here,

and I'll just, uh, take these chocolate buttons. Ooh!

-Let's go, nutters! -Can't wait!

Children and fresh air and white chocolate buttons.

-I feel like Julie Andrews!

Oh! I just got matched with someone.

Sorry, Mabel, could you just get off, actually,

'cause you're killing my back.

Uh, he's on a street corner... in a van.

-He looks like Jason Statham... -Mmm.

...if you squint.

In a bit, Bridge.

Bye, kids. See you.

- Bye! -Bye.

Oh, how everything calms down once you're outside in blue skies

turning the children into biddable lemurs.

Will obviously delete Tinder immediately.

But perhaps a very quick look first.

Keith?

Who are you, Keith?

Feel suddenly exposed to whole new world hiding in plain sight

like Narnia through back of wardrobe,

but with lion and witch shagging.

Mummy! Mabel's stuck up the tree!

-How'd she get up there? - Mummy!

Coming!

Okay.

No, it's... it's all right.

I can't get down either. -It's all right. I'm here.

Uh.

Billy. Is that you?

Oh, no. It's Mr Walliker.

Everything all right, Mrs Darcy?

Yep. Super.

Just climbing a tree.

-I can see that.

Having fun?

Yes. Yeah, this is really fun.

-You sure you don't need a hand? -No, no.

As Einstein said,

"What goes up must come down."

-Newton. -Yes.

Newton.

We're going to die!

No, we're not going to die. We're having fun.

We are definitely going to die.

Clearly you've got this nicely in hand.

Look, there's a policeman.

Oh, my God.

I've climbed a magical man tree.

-Are you stuck? - Yes!

No.

-Do they need help? -Apparently not.

So, I'll... I'll be off then.

Bye-bye.

Okay. I'll be off too.

Don't go away.

No, seriously. Don't go away.

Hang on. I'm coming.

Okay. Coming up.

Uh...

Hello.

Okay, just... Hang on.

Hello.

Hi, mate.

-Hi, what's your name? -Mabel.

-Mabel. -I can't jump down.

Okay. Well, you sit down there.

You get comfy, and I'm gonna go down there and catch you, OK?

-Okay, you ready? -Yeah.

Three, two, one, go!

- I did it! - I've got you. Well done.

All right, big man. Your turn.

Okay. You got this, mate. There we go.

-Next foot. - That's it, darling.

And I've got you.

Okay, Mum.

-Okay.

There we go.

-Okay. -Okay.

-You all right? - Yes.

Yes.

Okay.

Thank you.

Thank you.

It's all right.

Uh, I'm Roxby. But you can call me Roxster.

Bridget Jones.

But you can call her Mummy.

Hmm. Okay.

Oh.

I think this is yours.

Thanks.

Anything else I can help with?

God, yes.

No.

Okay.

It's nice to meet you, Roxy.

It's Roxster.

You too, Bridget Jones.

Now obsessed with tree-rescuing Adonis

and reentering world of flirting simultaneously with workforce.

-Mrs Darcy. -Mr Walliker.

Weapon at the ready, I see.

Good to see you managed to extricate yourself from that tree.

Oh, yes. It's the children's favourite game.

We're completely obsessed with the outdoors in our house.

Well, I'll have to put you down for our Outward Bound trip next term.

Sounds like it'd be right up your street.

Fucking fuck.

Yeah. Good.

Do you have my slime? I promised I'd show Cosmata.

Oh.

Hey, those are mine.

Give them to me.

They are actually hers.

Well, in that case...

Bridget!

You're dressed properly.

Odd.

Heading to a meeting.

Thinking about going back to my old job.

Oh, a job. Oh, I'll put you down for Jobs Day then.

Fucking fuckety fuck fuck.

Yes, absolutely.

Celestine, merci. C'est gentil.

Actually, do you mind tidying this up a little bit?

Sure.

Uh, what about the children? Do you have a nanny?

Not yet.

Oh, I've got the perfect person. She's excellent.

She's very pretty, but that doesn't matter, Bridget,

because you don't have a husband,

so it's absolutely immaterial how pretty and perfect she is.

-Sounds good. -There we go.

-Francesca. -Sorry.

Wonderful.

It's nothing. I just threw it together.

-Ah.

Bridget? Your donation?

You didn't forget?

No.

Certainly not.

Uh, let's see.

Here we are.

Hummus.

And, uh...

Rice cakes.

And look, they've even been opened already.

-Lovely.

Ah. Her name's Chloe, and she'll be with you at 6:30.

Raef! India! Get inside.

That's enough chatting.

Bridget Jones.

Thank you.

Four.

Four.

-Three. - Three.

Thank you.

This is Bridget Jones about to

go into an actual in-person meeting.

-Brenda Jones? -Oh, actually, it's--

Bridget Jones, there you are. Excellent. Quick, come with me.

-Thank you, Lizzie. -Thanks.

Good to see ya. How have you been?

You look hot.

Oh. Thank you, Richard.

But I think you'll find that sort of language is a little outmoded

-in the workplace. -No, I mean flustered.

Are you going through the, uh, you know?

Bridget, let me introduce you to Talitha.

Richard, what am I supposed to do with this, huh?

Does it climb? Does it stand on one leg?

Does it do cartwheels? It's a tortoise. It doesn't do anything.

He can't pull out. Who the fuck does he think he is?

Arrogant, self-important prick.

Tell that selfish arsehole he can rot in hell.

The Dalai Lama's cancelled.

Twat. Shit.

Okay, we've got an hour till we're on air.

We need a replacement. Let me make a call.

I do Krav Maga with Fergie.

Duchess or Black Eyed Pea?

Duchess. She could be here in 45.

Talitha, meet Bridget Jones. Best producer we've ever had.

Oh.

I'm sure you're very good too.

Huge fan.

Hold this.

Loved your early work from Chechnya.

Now I'm doing features on incontinent tortoises.

Fergie.

Are those glutes burning up?

Hello.

-Hey. Sorry. -Right.

Uh, right. Let's get rid of this set, please, now!

So, what do you think?

Can we lure you back?

Fergie's in.

Does anyone know how to get tortoise piss out of silk?

Blotting and mild detergent.

When can I start?

Am rejoining ranks of London's employed

and meaningfully contributing to society.

Can walk with head held high and be role model for Billy and Mabel,

saving them from otherwise certain future as alcoholic wards of the state.

It's super that the television's invited you back.

Of course, I always stayed at home when you were little.

Classic Mum.

Can't really talk, Mum.

I've got to tidy up before the nanny gets here.

A nanny? Really?

Mummy doesn't love us anymore. Ow!

Ever since Mum and Una moved into Audsley House,

the retirement home we have to pretend is a hotel,

the phone calls have been the same.

Any men on the horizon, Bridget?

Well, there's got to be someone. Some people don't mind a widow.

Stings a bit.

Beggars can't be choosers, Bridget.

And now, look, we're in the hotel kitchen

-doing salmon in the sous vide.

I mean, it's basically boil-in-the-bag,

but everybody's doing it these days.

Roxster. Definite development.

Cooking's never really been your thing.

-Oh, must go. Bye, Mum!

Bye, bye.

Oh, God, it's her.

Hi, I'm Chloe.

Hello.

What the actual fuck?

She looks like a film star.

Chloe, this is Mabel.

Look, I can play the recorder with my nose.

Children, this is Chloe.

She's going to come and help with everything.

Nicolette mentioned it would be a challenge,

-but I've certainly seen worse. -Oh.

Oh, and this is Billy, the science genius.

Ooh, we mustn't pigeonhole children. It adds undue pressure.

Have you read How To Raise a Self-Driven Child?

Oh, yes. It's-It's on my list,

so do not spoil the ending.

Oh, not to worry, Billy.

It's not about the result. It's about the journey.

There's something to learn whether you get an A or a C.

Billy has never had a C in...

Who did this?

Mr Walliker.

I drew the earth and the atmosphere, and I put heaven over the top.

And Mr Walliker said that heaven was a religious construct.

And he gave me a C.

Well, Mr Walliker

is a whistle-obsessed fascist

with all the soul of a non-stick wok.

Where did you hide the chocolate digestives?

-I didn't hide...

...anything.

Well, plenty to do here.

Consumed with guilt re hideously perfect nanny,

who children will obviously come to love more than hopeless mother

-without film star hair.

And texting Roxster slowly became part of my life.

A relationship with no necessity for actually meeting,

or arrangements, or sex, or any real life at all.

- In other words, the perfect relationship.

Is that the tree Adonis?

Wait a minute.

You wrote to him, "How are you liking Tinder?"

Inoffensive, neutral, a bit dull.

He replied, "Don't know, only joined it to find you, Bridget Jones."

-Shag him now. -Mm-mmm.

Then he sent a smiley emoji

and then you responded with the flag of Greece,

an abacus and a duck.

I panicked.

Thank you.

Who's next?

Do you want to go for a drink?

I'm so flattered.

Um, but I've got a boyfriend.

Well, sort of got a boyfriend. I think.

Um, so nice of you to ask, but, um...

no, thank you.

No, it's part of the meal deal.

Well, this one's easy.

You absolutely must go. Obviously.

But we've been texting for so long now. I can't meet him.

I mean, maybe it's like in Jane Austen's day

when they did letter writing for months and months

and then suddenly just got married.

Bridget, sexting a man that you just met in a park

is nothing like Jane Austen's day.

-If you don't shag him, I will. -I can't.

There is no possibility of being naked with a man at this point in my life.

You just need a little rebrand.

You'll start by getting a slip.

-A slip? -Yeah, with a slip,

you can show off your arms, your legs, your décolletage,

which are always the last to go.

And keep the central area,

which one might want to gloss over, glossed over.

And get a Brazilian.

God, no.

I like a bit of coverage down there.

Or run a comb through it at least.

But also, do get a Brazilian.

Just dust it. Dust it down.

Okay, I'll go!

But I'm not going to sleep with him.

Are condoms meant to be coloured?

Is hypersensitive good?

Large? Small? Oh.

Maybe just purchase a representative selection.

-Regular.

Mmm, exotic flavours.

Thin feel.

-Extra-large.

-Pleasure Me.

-Lube.

-Pleasure Me again.

Enjoy your weekend, Mrs Darcy.

Hello, old friend.

Hmm.

Thanks for having the kids tonight.

Always a pleasure, never a chore.

I'll take them to school in the morning.

So you can stay out as late as you want.

Make up for four years of no shagging.

It's only a drink.

Too see-through?

Mmm. Definitely.

OK.

How about this?

The reality suddenly completely terrifying,

and Mark, and insane and flabby.

And oh, God, oh, God.

I can't.

-I really can't. -Oh. What? What?

-No, I just can't. -Aw. Hey, you can.

You just need to think of it as widening your circle of friends.

That's all.

Hmm?

Come on.

Put on the dress, get out of here

and widen your fucking circle.

Oh, God. Look at him.

What if he's perfect?

-Hello.

Hi.

There's a really great place around here that's been here for forever.

Do you know this area at all?

Mmm, I used to.

Yeah, the, uh, Heath Ranger thing is just a day job.

-And my real passion is garbage.

Really?

The technical term is garbologist.

I'm a biochemist. Studying to be one.

You're a student.

A late-in-life one, anyway. Yeah.

How late?

I'm 28.

I'm just kidding.

I'm 29.

Fuck.

Is he closer in age to me or to Billy?

What about you?

You are...

Slightly older.

I'm gonna say 35-ish.

Yes.

Bull's-eye.

Let's say 35.

-Mmm. Thirty-five it is. -Mm-hmm.

Is 35 all right?

I think older women,

ever so slightly older women,

have a wiser view on life.

You know, they're more experienced

and more emotionally mature.

Me in a nutshell.

I find that very attractive.

Oh, God. I have no idea how any of this works anymore.

Is it all right if I kiss you?

Aw. The generation who ask.

I think that would be acceptable.

Give me just one moment.

Oh, my God.

What are you doing?

You all right?

Yeah. It's just...

Yeah. Okay.

Wow. It's really tight.

-Oh, God.

-Mabel's. -Ah.

You make me so hard, baby.

You make me hard.

What?

How did that happen? I'm using protection.

-Hi, Bridge. -Morning.

I've got coffee and I've got Ricky Gervais's

requests for today's show.

-Seriously? -Yeah.

-It's big. -Yeah.

-A relaxation corner. -Uh-huh.

Three full-length mirrors.

And he'll only use La Mer for some reason?

I know.

-Ooh. Three, please. - Three.

Did you have sex last night?

What? No.

Sam! Ricky Gervais is on his way in.

And, apparently, he won't drink Evian, only Icelandic water.

And it's got to have lots of alkalines.

Or no alkalines.

Um...

Did you have sex last night?

What? No!

God!

Tape measure, please. Quick.

The cushion can't be more than 40 centimetres from the floor for Ricky.

Did you have sex last night?

Yes. I did. Okay? I did.

I had a full night of utterly mind-blowing sex

with a tree-rescuing rubbish expert Adonis who might be slightly younger, probably.

And it was amazing!

Okay?

So what?

Am not only mother and sexual being,

but also capable working woman at the top of her game.

So take that, Chloe.

I've done the macaroni and cheese, but with butternut squash instead.

It's in the bottom oven. Just needs to move to the top in about 20 minutes.

Good. Good. Right.

It's just how I would do it.

Um... Oh, Chloe,

uh, it would be really helpful

to have their water bottles done the night before.

In the fridge. Top right.

Where the expired milk was.

Oh, great. Great. Um...

Billy will need something extra for snack tomorrow.

-He's got-- -Cricket, yeah.

In a snack bag. Labelled. By the bread bin.

-We have a bread bin? -I have to leave, I'm afraid.

Graham and I have tai chi on Thursdays.

6:45 sharp, but earlier to get the spot you want.

Oh. 'Course.

You and Graham enjoy your tai chi.

Oh, you forgot to leave out Billy's cricket things,

but never mind. I'll do it.

Bag packed by the door.

Nevertheless,

secret to calmer, happier parenting:

-one-night stands.

Although, it wasn't just one night.

Brought a pie.

Hmm.

That was funny.

And so, a moment turned into a date,

which turned into a kiss.

Which turned into a night.

And the night turned into a summer.

Morning. Welcome back.

-Good morning, Mr Walliker. -Morning.

-Morning. -Mrs Darcy.

How were your summer holidays?

I have a new daddy now.

His name is Roxster,

and he always gives Mummy

a funny hairstyle in the morning.

Yes, well. It's not that funny, is it, Mabel?

It is.

He's not a new daddy. He's just someone.

Off you go.

Well, it seems congratulations are in order.

You!

-No. You two. Come on. -Bye, Mum. See you soon. Bye.

Bisous, bisous, bisous.

Bridget, I emailed you from Anguilla about, um--

Jobs Day, yes. I come prepared.

I must say, it's a welcome change, all... this.

Thank you.

All right, everyone. Settle down.

Settle down. Thank you.

Um, so...

Last term, Daveed's dad was kind enough to talk to us

about being a thoracic surgeon,

and next week, Eugenie's mum will be in

to talk about her role as a nuclear physicist,

and how it felt to win the Nobel Prize.

But today, it's Billy's mum.

So, everyone, give a warm welcome to Mrs Darcy.

Hello.

Um.

I am a television producer.

My mum says television is making society rot.

Yes. Well, thank you, Priscilla.

OK. May we have a volunteer?

Thank you, Esmeralda.

Right.

You can stand here.

Very good.

And you are going to say things like,

"Ten seconds to air!"

And I am going to be the interviewer for the day.

Now...

Just...

Right. OK.

Perhaps Mr Walliker could be the person being interviewed.

Take a seat.

Uh, righto.

Now, topic.

-The life cycle of the fruit fly. Hmm?

Right, OK.

Ooh. Ten seconds to air!

Hello, this is Bridget Jones,

and I'm delighted to have Mr Walliker on the show today

to help us understand the life cycle of the fruit fly.

Um, well, it's a...

it's a pleasure to be on the show.

And, um, thank you for that question.

Um...

Well, the, uh, the average...

Thank you.

Uh, the average fly takes about

two weeks to mature

and can live for as long as 40 or 50 days.

And then, like all living things, when it dies, it simply stops.

Cellular shutdown.

It falls, gradually decomposes,

and becomes part of the soil system.

But does it really end when it dies?

Exactly, Mr Walliker.

Surely there's more to the story.

Um, well. Well, not really.

But, yes.

After the body of the fruit fly stops working,

uh, then the soul of the fruit fly

will be able to be free, yes?

And that particular fruit fly

will always, in some senses, be with us.

-The soul of the fruit fly? -Hmm.

There's no evidence for a soul,

but the body is a perfect system of electrical pulses,

powered by the heart, which is in itself

-a pump, if you will-- -The soul, Mr Walliker,

is the essence of every living thing.

If you think we're simply bits of machinery

that can be switched on or off,

then where does art come from?

Or-Or wonder? Or poetry?

-Or magic? -Magic?

The fruit fly, when it dies,

will stay with its fruit fly family forever.

Keep the interview on point, Bridget.

This is utter nonsense.

Our world is governed by laws and fact.

That's our universe.

-And it is rational. -Cut!

I'm a realist, Mrs Darcy.

I believe in what's real.

Cut!

Off to Talitha's birthday.

Are you sure you're OK to stay tonight?

It's Thursday. I thought you and Graham had tai chi.

Won't kill him to miss a week, will it?

He's so uptight.

Oh, you look nice, Bridget.

Oh!

Ooh.

Oh, try this.

There.

Thanks, Chloe.

Billy! Mabes! Snacks on the table.

So where is he? Is he not coming?

Oh, it's fine. He must have been held up.

-What? By some sort of rubbish emergency? -Oh.

-Probably had to finish his homework. - Stop it.

Hope he gets here before story time.

Shut it!

Come the fuck on, Bridge.

Does this guy actually exist

or is it, um, like that one time

that you saw Brad Pitt at Costa Coffee?

-It was him. It was. -Come on. Really?

- Happy birthday. -Lovely to see you.

What on earth are you holding?

Oh, Petula.

A present to myself

and I already prefer her to any human.

Oh, hi.

Oh, here. Can you hold my baby

while I feign surprise at the cake

that I chose and bought for myself.

Oh, look! Look at that!

Thank you. Oh, look.

Thank you.

Thank you all so much for coming today

to help me celebrate, well, me.

We love you, Talitha.

- Talitha! - Talitha! Happy birthday.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Binko Carruthers.

Oh, please don't come over. Please don't.

Beep, beep.

There she is. The famous Bridget Jones.

So I told Cosmo I'd take you out for a spin.

How's Friday?

- Fuck, no!

Jude, get in there. Come on, get the fuck in there! God, help!

Oh, my God. Oh!

Petula, come on, darling. - Petula! Petula!

Who's that?

-I think this belongs to you. -Thank you.

-Hello. -Hi.

Sorry I'm late. Buses were a nightmare.

It's fine.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

She just jumped out of my arms.

Do not apologise.

Oh, my darling.

Let me help you out of those wet clothes.

No. Don't you dare redress him.

-You look gorgeous. -You look gorgeous.

Now that, my darling, is what I call a rebrand.

Hi. I'm Roxster.

I hope he's up to it, darling.

-Hello. -Oh, fuck off.

If there is a God,

I'm sure he had more to deal with that night

than my personal happiness,

but it did feel like he'd taken the night off everything else

to focus on me.

But then...

I wish I had a time machine.

A time machine.

In his moment of inebriated joy,

he had given himself away.

It mattered to him.

And with that came the elephant stomping heavily into the room.

That happens to us all, James.

Oh, I do have about 60 naps a day.

Well, 60 in the morning and a nap in the afternoon.

Yeah, but you've got so many interesting characters in this show.

So this show is for...

Ghosting.

The practice of ending a relationship

by suddenly and without explanation

withdrawing from all communication.

The slow unveiling of reality and rejection.

The casual cruelty.

Do not text when ghosted.

Do not text when drunk.

Ghost the bastard back, Bridget.

Just let him disintegrate into nothingness.

It can be a jungle out there.

Yep. And I'm the giant panda,

sexually obsolete and destined to be alone forever.

No. You will adapt and survive like we all do.

I used to be on the cover of Vanity Fairin a flak jacket.

And now I'm on the cover of Good Housekeepingwith a pavlova.

Cathy...

where's your special stuff?

Hd tv was an extinction-level event

for the fearless career television presenter.

I'm about to usher you into your next chapter.

Lip serum. I get it on the dark web.

-Is it legal? -Absolutely.

In Venezuela.

Here, take it.

Adapt and survive.

Adapt and survive.

Ooh. Something's definitely happening.

It's either disastrous or totally fantastic.

Mummy!

Hi, sweetie.

Shit. What's happening to my voice?

Mabel's shoes are on the wrong feet.

No. My feet are on the wrong legs.

Silly thing.

Mummy, something's wrong with your mouth.

No.

No, there isn't.

Yes, there is. Look.

Your lips are all funny right there.

Darling, don't be ridiculous.

All right, Mabel, let's get these swapped over, shall we?

Out we pop. All right.

I wouldn't do that again if I were you, Mrs Darcy.

You looked all right to begin with.

All right.

You're trying to look younger

and the effects have marked similarities to those of an elderly stroke victim.

You're actually drooling now.

Oh, dear.

Now, acutely aware as I am of my waiting room

filled to capacity with actual patients--

not to mention the fact that I am a gynaecologist

and that particular set of lips is,

as it were, broadly speaking, at the wrong end--

I am nonetheless going to ask you the question,

"Bridget, are you OK?"

A simple yes will suffice.

No.

It's all your fault.

"Twat." Sorry, it's doctor's handwriting.

That's an A, in the middle there.

Now, I rather zoned out after "pyjamas",

but a toy boy is not the answer, Bridget, and nor are big lips.

You're a widow

with two wonderful children who adore you.

You're just trying to cope with a shitty situation.

Embrace the chaos.

That's just a simple allergic reaction to

hydroxymethoxyphenyl propylmethylmethoxybenzofuran

in whatever infernal concoction you've smeared on your mouth.

- This is an antihistamine.

It'll work straight away.

It's for the lips.

They still haven't invented anything for being a twat.

Hello.

Yes, this is Bridget.

Of course! Straight away.

Yes, yes.

Daniel.

Well, by all that's holy,

Bridget Jones.

Nice of you to come, Jones.

If I'd known, I'd have worn a tinier nightie.

What happened?

My heart.

Two massive surprises.

One, I have one. Two, it murmurs.

They've, um, had a listen and I don't know.

Are you OK?

Well, I thought I was having a heart attack.

My whole life passed before my eyes.

You actually featured prominently, Jones.

-Hmm. -All the best bits.

Rome. Mini-break weekend.

Sodomy in Sainsbury's.

But, uh, mainly,

it was just me wandering up and down the King's Road

trying to twinkle at 20-year-olds.

Mmm.

Perhaps it's an opportunity for a new beginning.

Brand-new Daniel.

Mmm.

I think I shall stay right here...

until you agree.

Well that is kind of you, Bridge, but, um...

they told me I don't have long.

-What? -No, no, no. Fuck. No, not that.

Well, maybe that. No, they, uh...

they're taking me for some tests in a minute.

The question is, would we say I've become a fraction tragic?

They asked me to put down my next of kin.

And the only person I could think of who might remotely care was you.

-That's very sweet. - Yeah, but not deliberately.

The point is, Bridge, how have I arrived

at this point in my life with no kin?

How could I possibly be kinless?

But you're not. You're not kinless.

Well, I haven't seen Enzo since he was two.

And he is now being happily raised by his mother

and an Italian aristocrat who wears his jumper like a shawl.

So, lucky you, Jones.

Your two, the way they look at you...

just makes one realise...

one's own fuck-ups, really.

The glory of what might have been.

Did you know...

it was actually quite good

with Gisele at the beginning?

I have to face the fact...

...that it may have been, Jones, love.

The real thing.

I still don't know what she was so pissed off about.

You shagged her sister.

Once. Massive overreaction.

God, I love you, Daniel.

Despite your really quite impressive

lifelong dedication to total fuckwittage.

Yeah.

There's a lot I don't know.

An awful lot.

But I do know that my children would give anything at all

to have just one day with their dad.

- Time for your obs, Mr Cleaver.

Oh, right.

And, again, there is really no need

for you to remove your gown.

Sorry.

Okey-doke.

God.

Then lights down on the cooking segment.

Why do I always have to do the cooking bits?

That chestnut ravioli he cooked last time

was the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth.

I highly doubt that.

And then, Miranda, you cross to the stage.

"And now, on Better Women, a surprise guest." Blah blah.

And lights!

- Hold it!

Linus, we've got to practise following her with the lights.

So, uh...

maybe you could dance a bit? Yeah?

-Uh... - OK. Go, Linus!

Can you hold that, please? See, you've got to, you know, go for it.

'Cause she's going to, you know...

-See, Linus? - Hi, b.

Oh, shit.

Brought a pie.

Sorry, they just told me to come in.

You disappeared, Roxster.

I know.

I know.

I panicked.

I got-- I got scared, and I ran.

But I want this.

You.

I thought I wasn't ready, but I am.

I thought I...

I don't know, wanted somebody my own age,

but I don't.

I love you, Bridget.

I'm ready for all of it.

For Billy and Mabel.

And burnt lasagne.

And slime.

And all of it.

I promise you, I am ready.

I'm not sure that matters.

What do you mean? I don't-- I don't understand.

You're so lovely,

and you're going to be

a brilliant partner and dad.

And you're going to discover

all sorts of garbage that will change the world.

That's not how it works.

But not with me.

I wish I had a time machine too.

So you could catch up.

Are you-- Are you sure?

I am.

I'll keep the pie, if that's OK.

Goodbye, Bridget.

Parents' evening.

Is there a worse night for the single parent?

They call it parents' evening

as if it's a plural.

As if it's a given that there's two of us.

Oh, well. Chin up and onward.

Mrs Darcy.

It's good to see you.

Good to be back in the studio.

The great fruit fly debate.

Uh...

Small secret.

It was about 50 times more interesting

than that bloody thoracic surgeon.

And don't get me started on the physicist.

I mean, they'll hand out Nobels to anyone these days.

Oh, yeah.

So, uh, Billy.

Well, he's, um... he's an excellent cricketer.

-Mm-hmm. -You know,

he's a very good young scientist.

He's... he's got a good brain.

He's methodical, his experiments are well drawn up.

Look, I mean, it's just, uh...

it's excellent work all round.

-Good. -It's just this, Mrs Darcy. I'm...

I'm a...

I'm a bit concerned about him.

Concerned? Concerned how? What's he done?

No, he hasn't done anything. He's, um...

He's just been a bit, uh...

withdrawn.

Why is he withdrawn?

Everything's been all right at home?

Yes, yes. It's all fine.

Everything OK with your, um...

-hairdresser?

Him? No, but-but yes. Uh...

He's withdrawn?

-Well, I don't mean to alarm you.

-Sorry about that. Yep, exactly. - Mr Walliker, sorry, sorry.

We're a couple of minutes early, but these sessions are so short.

And I have more than a few questions for you.

You don't mind, do you, Bridget?

We do have the two boys, so...

Not at all. No. That's... It's fine.

-Mate, I'm gonna have to put you on mute. - Thank you.

- Right. I've got parents' evening.

Mark Darcy, the leading

international humanitarian rights lawyer,

was killed this morning in the Darfur region in Sudan.

...a land mine. The 55-year-old was in

the war-torn region after joining international efforts...

Mr Darcy was a leading international figure in human rights

and crisis resolution...

...gained global recognition

with the Kafir Aghani and Eleanor Heaney case,

which, of course, he won.

He leaves behind his wife, Bridget Jones,

and their two young children, Billy and Mabel.

-More on this story as we get it.

Dearest darling Mark,

it's your birthday on Sunday, and...

...I'm just no good at doing this on my own.

I'm sorry I'm such a bad mother.

I'm sorry I got caught up with a callow toy boy.

I'm sorry I'm late for school and that Billy's withdrawn.

They're growing up without you.

How is Billy going to understand

how to be a man without his father?

How is Mabel going to live her life

having never really known you at all?

Please forgive me for being upset

about anything which isn't about not having you.

Please help me find a way to do this

without feeling like I'm ruining the most important part of my life.

The only part that still has you in it.

I have to put down how many tickets we need for my Christmas concert.

-Mm-hmm. -Should I put down two? For you and Mabel?

Put three.

Mabel, me and Chloe.

OK. Three.

Finished.

Me too.

Daddy will love these.

They're perfect.

Yes.

Did you write one, Mummy?

I did.

Tomorrow, can we post them to Daddy?

Of course we can.

And Mark's birthday came as it always did...

like all the celebrations, Christmases and anniversaries.

All the love and all the pain.

OK. Ready?

On three.

One, two...

What am I going to do when I get to--

...three.

What I have is what I love most in the world.

Billy and Mabel.

Just the three of us.

- Mr Walliker. -Mrs Darcy.

Billy!

- Hello! - Hello!

Ready?

Have a good walk, then.

Thank you.

Bye.

All right, come in.

Now...

what this is not is a "walk."

We are about to embark as a team

on an orienteering adventure.

-So do you each have your compasses? - Yes!

-Do you each have your maps? -Yes!

Right then, you know your groups. Hands up, Otters!

You'll go along with Mr Collins and Bikram's mum, Mrs Pasricha.

Billy's mum, Mrs Darcy. You've drawn the short straw, I'm afraid.

You'll be joining me and the Ospreys.

Now, this is very important.

Remember to open your eyes and look around.

This is one of the most

beautiful places on earth.

Enjoy it.

Let's go.

-You sure you're up to this, Mrs Darcy? -Absolutely!

I was a Queen's Guide.

- Got my Pioneer badge.

I can rope, knot, splice and lash.

If you need anything tied up,

I'm your girl.

- Right then. Bring up the rear.

Yes! Bringing up the rear!

Up!

We're gonna see much more water than that.

Up the rear!

Yep.

Make sure everybody's with us.

You can see the second waterfall, can't you?

Well, those two are together.

Coming!

Hurry along. Come on!

- Give me your hand. -Wow. So cool.

OK.

Right.

Is there a Wi-Fi password?

Oh, Atticus, don't be a pillock.

All right, take this tarp

and spread it out on the floor over there, all right?

Come on.

It's all right. It's dry.

Mrs Darcy, could you take that wheelbarrow,

pick up some firewood for when the rain stops?

Yep.

All right, everyone. Do your best to get dry.

Ding-fucking-dong.

Whenever you're ready.

Looks like we'll be here for a while.

It really is absolutely disgusting.

Burnt to a crisp.

I think you'll find it's a brûlée.

Come on, then.

Off to Bedfordshire.

Goodnight, Mr Walliker.

- Here we are. - Sleep well, team.

-Well done today. - Thank you.

Okay. Night night.

Goodnight.

-Mission accomplished.

One barnful of sleeping children.

Don't get me wrong, I'm quite impressed by your resourcefulness,

but who travels to the Lake District

with a backpack full of marshmallows?

All parents know the marshmallow

is an essential tool, Mr Walliker.

Do you have children?

Uh, no. No, no, I never did any of that.

But, um...

It's funny. In the back of your mind,

you think it might happen, and--

But, you know, one day,

you're preparing a test for a periodic table...

-...and you realise it's the 27th one you've set,

and there's just never been time

to really think about having anything like a...

like a family in between.

But it's good.

It's good. I, uh...

Well, it suits me.

Mmm.

I see it does.

I mean, look at that.

All of it.

You asked me where's the wonder and the magic.

It's a good question.

I think it's here.

You don't believe in magic, Mr Walliker.

No.

Well, I've been thinking.

Mummy?

Atticus is really frightened.

He says his mum sings Puccini to him when he's scared.

Well, he might have to settle for some early Take That,

but I'll see what I can do, okay?

Mr Walliker,

do you mind if I sit here for a minute?

Of course. Sit down.

-Is there anything you want to-- -It's just...

what if I forget him?

I don't wanna forget him.

But what if I do?

Let me tell you this, Billy, um...

Your dad is everywhere.

He's everywhere.

Right now...

in this moment.

And that's a scientific fact.

Energy is only transferred.

It can never be destroyed.

And more importantly,

your father is in you.

And Mabel.

Billy, tell me something...

one thing...

that you remember best

about your dad.

Can we?

-May we. -Yes.

Careful!

Chop-chop.

One, two. One, two.

May I have your hot chocolate?

- No. No! Marshmallows! - Yes. Yes.

Mabel, why don't I take you to your seat? Come on.

-Is that all right?

-Don't dawdle, Mrs Darcy. -No.

Show's starting.

Yes, of course.

-That sounds fantastic. - Yeah.

I'll see you at Nobu at 7.00.

-Oh, for God's sake, Victor.

Fucking prick.

Bravo! Bravo.

Thank you, Eros and Atticus Soltani-Watkins.

Now, although it's not on the programme,

we do have one-- one more song.

Um, I happen to know it means a lot to our singer.

And, um... well, this is his first-ever solo performance,

and I know he'll do himself proud.

Go, Billy!

Bravo!

Oh, my darling.

Daddy would be so proud of you.

I know.

Well done, Billy. You nailed it.

-Were you surprised, Mum? -Yes.

-Genius. -Up top.

-So, can I have a sleepover with Bikram? -Yes.

-And did you bring my-- -Yes.

Bikram! Nintendo!

Mr Walliker, Billy was...

The whole thing was...

-It was-- -It was magic, Mrs Darcy.

No, it wasn't.

What you've done for Billy...

People talk about moving on like it means,

you know, leaving something behind,

you know, leaving someone you love behind,

but perhaps it's more that suddenly you see

you can live at the same time as all the things you've lost,

and that you can be happy even without them.

And tonight, I saw my son up there

and I understood for the first time in four years

that he's going to be okay.

And so, we're going to be okay.

And you did that, Mr Walliker.

It wasn't magic.

It was you.

So, I'll overlook your tendency to be a little aloof--

Some might call it condescending.

Supercilious is a good word

and you probably don't hear it enough, but the point is...

thank you.

Mr Walliker?

We're going to The Spaniards for a drink.

Um, and if you wanted to come,

well, we'd be there

because that's where we'll be.

Can't be taught. Can't be taught. It was unbelievable.

-Mrs Darcy. -The flautists, an absolute triumph.

One of the best Christmas shows I've ever seen.

Christmas shows don't get much better than that. Extraordinary.

No, it doesn't. Don't look at me like that.

- Billy! How did it go? -Billy!

-I did a solo. - Oh!

Congratulations.

Come here. Have a squidge.

He was brilliant.

-Hello, Mabel. How are you? - Well done. I bet you were.

-Chloe has a video. - You look lovely.

- There's a video? - A video?

Chloe? Video?

Congratulations.

Hi. Uh, four, uh...

large glasses of white wine, please.

Wine. Wine.

Oh, house white. Party petrol.

- Bikram's here! - Your wine, ladies.

- What are you doing down there? -Nothing.

- Well, there we go. -Congratulations, darling.

-To Billy. -He was wonderful. Billy.

-Absolutely wonderful. - Yes.

But I can tell you, I... I knew from his glow it was a triumph.

-No, honestly.

I mean, once you've tasted success...

You had literally one song, Tom.

Yes, you know, my mother always says

if you've got nothing nice to say, then shut the fuck up.

Your mother's right, so shut the fuck up.

We should never shut the fuck up.

Stop telling everyone else to shut the fuck up.

We can, yes.

- No. Come on. - Good overtaking.

No, I didn't. That was him.

Mum. That way.

Mr Walliker!

Aren't you coming in?

Well, actually, I was. I...

I wanted to say something to you,

but it's the wrong time.

You're there with everyone, and...

I'm better with people about 4 foot tall.

4'1". That's my sweet spot, as it turns out, so...

Where are you going?

Well, look, I really just wanted to discuss Newton.

Newton?

I mean, we already covered Newton's second law, gravity,

in the tree when you were pretending not to be stuck.

But the one that's always fascinated me isn't the second law.

I mean, any idiot can see that an apple's gonna fall down.

What's it gonna do, fall up?

It's a hopelessly overrated law, the second.

No, the one that's always interested me is the third law.

You'll know what that is.

Yes.

Of course. But go on.

For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction.

It's a fundamental law of our universe.

It's, uh... It's an inescapable fact of our existence,

and I was coming to say that you are...

this force, Mrs Darcy...

to me.

Equal and... opposite.

And just as Newton predicted, it's irresistible.

I see it.

Right now, just standing here, I feel it,

and it's as real to me as the things I loved when I was a boy

and first started looking at the world.

You see, it's not really order

that we science people fall in love with, Mrs Darcy,

it's the beauty in things.

The beauty,

to be specific...

in you.

Oh.

Oh, I'm... I'm sorry.

-I don't know what I was thinking. -No, no.

This is exactly why I decided not to come in.

I've clearly got entirely the wrong end of the--

-Mr Walliker... -Look, I just want you to know

that this is not going to be awkward at all. At all.

-Please stop talking. -With Billy and school.

Let's just pretend this never happened, please. Let's just--

It was either that or a whistle,

and I haven't got a whistle, Mr Walliker.

Call me Scott, for God's sake.

Yes, Mr Walliker.

Right, shake it, shake it, shake it. No, go mad.

That's it. Now pour it out.

Very good.

Insert one cherry.

And that, my friends, is how we make a Dirty Bitch.

Christ. That may even be a Filthy Bitch. Pass that round.

Now, similar but not at all the same,

the Bad Mummy.

Little bit of vodka.

-Yeah? -Come here.

Okay, you're in charge.

Is that who I think it is?

So they tell me, yeah. What do you think?

You have sad eyes, angelo mio.

Why so sad? They make me sad.

I want to see the smile.

Stop it.

He's 16!

Yeah. Late starter.

Where in Italy are you from?

-Bologna. -Bologna.

-Yeah. -Say it again.

-Bologna. -Bologna.

Enzo, the kids are gonna watch a movie upstairs. You coming?

He'll stay.

Boys.

I think you're proud.

Relief, really, Jones.

Kin, as you said.

-Enzo. -Yeah?

Vieni qua.

-I beg your pardon. -Okay.

-Ciao. -Ciao.

This is your hostess

and one of the great loves of your father's life, Bridget Jones.

Ooh!

It's nice to meet you, Enzo.

He says it is a great honour to meet you.

-Oh!

And then he says that those are

very, very silly little boots.

You have incredible posture.

You're not Danish, are you?

Well, I can be anything you want.

It is, isn't it? I know, and it's working really well for you,

but all I'm saying is maybe it's time for a rebrand.

Have you ever thought about having a pixie cut?

No.

Oh, you have the face for it.

And it's utterly changed my life.

Nonsense, Pam. You're perfect just as you are.

Is that a Dirty Bitch?

Steady on.

Oh, yes, please. Yes, thank you very much.

Thanks.

- Just what the doctor ordered. - Me too.

-Always. Take a horn. -Give me the fucking horn.

-Thank you, thank you. - Yep.

-Mmm. Oh. - Mmm. Mmm.

I'll be honest, I don't know what I'd have done in the past 20 years without you lot.

-Twenty? -No, it's not. It's thirty?

Yeah, it's more like 30 years, to be honest.

We've had some fucking fun though, haven't we?

We have.

Ten, nine, eight,

seven, six, five,

four, three,

two, one!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year.

I forgot to check.

Look.

Goodnight.

Ooh.

Bloody zip.

Bastard tyrannical dress people.

I've got it.

Thank you.

Happy New Year.

Happy New Year.