Helen Fielding's crap 1996 'novel' purporting to be the diary of an endearing ditsy female who worries about getting a decent boyfriend. Could be the reason she doesn't have one is that she's an idiotic, self-obsessed, calorie-counting, chain-smoking, 30-something airhead. Improbably, at the end she finds her Mr Darcy (like in "Pride and Prejudice"). Salman Rushdie has apparently said that this dreadful book is "a brilliant comic creation. Even men will laugh"--with derision, maybe. An English media novel.