Richard Finch was Bridget's coked up ex-boss at Sit Up Britain, which was a show. A selection of the things he said to her during the course of their relationship:
"Come on Bridget Droopy-Drawers Late Again. I'm not paying you to roll coats into a ball and try to look innocent, I'm paying you to turn up on time and come up with ideas. Right, Bridget! I'm thinking New Labour Women. I'm thinking image and roles. I want Barbara Follett in the studio. Get her to give Margaret Beckett a make-over. Highlights. Little black dress. Stockings. I want to see Margaret looking like sex on legs."
"Bridget! Right. You're crap but you're off the hook. They loved it upstairs. Loved it. loved it. We have a proposition. I'm thinking bunny girl, I'm thinking Gladiator, I thinking canvassing MP. I'm thinking Chris Serle meets Jerry Springer meets Anneka Rice meets Zoe Ball meets Mike Smith off the Late, Late Breakfast Show."
"What?" I said indignantly.
Turned out they had cooked up some demeaning scheme where every week I had to try out a different profession then fuck it up in an outfit. Naturally I told him I am a serious professional journalist and will not consider prostituting myself in such a way with the result that went into a foul sulk and said he was going to consider what my value was to the programme, if any.
Here's the letter:
A merry, merry Christmas, dearest Richard.
I know our relationship has had its ups and downs. But now it is Christmas I realise it is very strong - challenging, vigorous, honest and true. You are a fascinating, fascinating man, full of vigour and contradiction. I feel very close to you now it is Christmas - both as a producer and as a man.
With love,
Bridget
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