DARCY is dead?

Cue a big black widow’s dress on top of a gigantic pair of knickers to cover an arse the size of Brazil, and of course an enormous bucket of Chardonnay to drown the sorrows.

The news that author Helen Fielding has killed off the handsome human rights lawyer in the latest instalment of the adventures of Bridget Jones has been met with genuine shock by fans.

And I’m as horrified as the rest.

I know he’s not the first romantic hero to be killed off and I know he’s the non-existent husband of a fictional character.

But, since she used to run around naked in his paddling pool, Bridget and Mark were just meant to be.

Following her promise to steer clear of alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitmentphobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, perverts and especially Daniel Cleaver, she finally found her Mr Right.

For millions of readers, if the world’s most famous singleton could find happiness after chapters of dating disasters, there was hope for us all.

We didn’t want her to be a smug married, but a widow? Absolutely not.

Yes, it’s only a work of fiction, but once in a while it’s lovely to indulge in a heart-warming happy ending.

Bridget didn’t get her fairytale, so she’s growing old disgracefully.

There’s only one thing for it. Choose Vodka.

And Chaka Khan.