Первая сцена
Hey, Bridge, what’s your love life? Oh. Still going out without publishing, chubby? Uh, no, no. Never dip your nib in the office ink. Right. You really ought to hurry up and get sprogged up, you know, old girl. Times are running out. Tick tock. Yes, yes. Tell me, is it one in four marriages that end in divorce now, or one in three? One in three. Seriously, though. Offices full of single girls in their 30s. Fine physical specimens, but they just can’t seem to hold down a chap. Yes. Why is it there are so many unmarried women in their 30s these days, Bridget? Well, I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales.
Вторая сцена
So… So? Are you staying at your parents’ for New Year? Yes. You? Oh, no, no, no, no. I was in London. I had a party last night, so I’m afraid I’m a bit hungover. Wish I could be lying with my head in the toilet like all normal people. New Year’s resolution, drink less. Oh, and quit smoking. Oh! And keep New Year’s resolutions. And stop talking total nonsense to strangers. In fact, stop talking full stop. Yes, well, perhaps it’s time to eat.
Unfortunately, he just happens to be my boss, editor-in-chief Daniel Cleaver. And for various slightly unfair reasons relating to this year’s Christmas party, I suspect he does not fantasize about me.
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