I'm still looking out for a second hand copy of Bridget Jones (there is no excuse for printing any more of the buggers, surely there are enough copies to placate the population of the planet), and all in an attempt for something to relieve the monolith that is Ackroyd's London book.
Suggestions? Search and destroy?
― Alan Trewartha, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― helenfordsdale, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― Tom, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
What about Kathy Lette, then! In the stocks? Ducking stool? Or just literally put a sock in her?
― Terry Shannon, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― Nigel Rees, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― Sarah, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― katie, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― N., Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
N.B. This is not my BJ diary.
― Kerry, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― Ned Raggett, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
― maura, Thursday, 7 February 2002 01:00 (twenty-three years ago)
i think the definition of 'chick lit' here is supplanted by the idea of the 'oprah book.'