What the fuck is going on Renée?
I am CONCERNED. Even that lady behind you, with the Bee bobblers, SHE is concerned.
I need to send my Grandma over to you on a plane so she can fatten you up with some of her Grandma cooking and she can chase away that doctor who is obviously making house calls with Botox. She’d sort him out and he would not dare come back.
And Grandma would tell you to stop pulling a face like you just sucked a really sour lemon, because the wind might change… Or maybe it already has.
Or maybe we could get Helen Fielding to write many, many more Bridget books and then you can gain a bit of weight to play her, I love you when you’re Bridge.
Carbs are your friends.
Come back Renée, we miss you.
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