Author's Note: Thank you for reading and writing reviews! I know it has been over a year since I first posted this, but I've decided to post a new diary entry, just for a bit of fun. I have no idea when I'll next update this, or even if I will, but I'll wait and see. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Based on 'The Phantom of the Opera' by Gaston Leroux, and 'Bridget Jones's Diary' and 'Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason' by Helen Fielding.

January 5th, 1881

Chocolate croissants two (v.g.), number of times felt like hitting Nadir: 7 (good), number of times felt like killing Nadir: 5 (vast improvement).

Ugh. Back to work today. Hate my boring dead-end job as resident Opera Ghost. I never get to talk to anyone or go anywhere interesting and glamorous. Would love high-flying job as presidential spy, international assassin, journalist or similar.

8.30a.m. – Right. Must go and collect my salary from managers, and demand well-deserved pay rise. I think I should also start my exercise programme and go shopping for nice, healthy food in accordance with New Year's Resolution.

8.31a.m. – I think I'll just have a coffee and a chocolate croissant. After all, everyone's allowed an occasional treat when they're on a diet, aren't they?

8.32a.m. – Mmmmm. Yummy chocolate croissant. Think will just have another, then will get dressed in full Phantom uniform.

8.50a.m. – Why does this have to happen every year? Why? WHY? Stupid tight-fitting evening trousers! It's not as if I've even eaten that much over Christmas! Gaaah! Must have bottom the size of France. No wonder no one fancies me. Will have to wear baggy casual trousers until I can buy new pair.

9.00a.m. – Where is my cape?

9.02a.m. – Cape has mysteriously disappeared in manner of mysterious disappearing cape-like object.

9.03a.m. - Ah ha! Cape is against front door being used as a draft excluder.

9.10a.m.: Am finally on my way to managers' office. I will not be nervous! I will be poised, cool Opera Ghost of substance! Nothing frightens me! Nothing at all! Aaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhhhh!

9.11a.m. - Was Nadir, appearing suddenly out of the shadows in that irritating yet rather disconcerting way of his. Trembling from head to foot in shock, I tried to controll myself sufficiently to address him in a civilised manner.

"Good morning, Daroga," I said, my voice shaking slightly.

"Hello, Erik," said Nadir, grinning. "Nice trousers. I find that jeans always go very well with a dress shirt and dinner jacket."

"Thank you," I said, glaring at him. "My other trousers are…indisposed."

"Too much Christmas turkey again, Erik? Tut, tut! You should really start watching what you eat, you know…"

"Yes, thank you, Daroga!" I said irritably. "I don't need you to be my dietician as well as my conscience."

Nadir smiled. "I was only joking. Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"What do you think?" I growled. "Now will you please either tell me what you want or go away? I haven't got all day."

"I was just wondering if you fancied going to the Opera tonight. They're singing Faust. A brand new production."

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to tell Nadir that, just in case it had actually escaped his notice, I lived under a wretched Opera House and had been forced to listen to the stuff until my ears literally bled. But then I remembered my New Year's Resolution to be nice to him.

"How very kind of you, Daroga," I said, forcing a smile. "I would love to. Thank you for the thoughtful invitation."

Nadir looked at me in concern. "Are you feeling all right, Erik?"

"Never better!"

"It's just that you're actually being nice to me. You haven't been nice to me in months. You usually just call me a great booby and steal my pocket watch."

I drew myself up to my full height and looked down my non-existent nose at him.

"Last night…" I began dramatically, "I had an apostrophe."

Nadir blinked a few times. His lips moved soundlessly.

"You mean an epiphany?" he said eventually.

"Same thing," I said.

"I don't think they are, Erik. An apostrophe is a punctuation mark used to either express possession of something or indicate the omission of letters or numbers, whereas an epiphany is a moment of sudden and great revelation…"

"Oh, do shut up, Nadir! I'm the genius here, and if I say I had an apostrophe, then I had a damned apostrophe!"

"Whatever you say, Erik," sighed Nadir. "So what was this…apostrophe?"

"I realised that I can't go on living like this," I said. "I'm tired of this wretched, lonely existence, and I'm going to do something about it, Nadir! From now on, I'm going to devote my life to befriending and helping my fellow men. And women, of course. And…" I said, glancing down at the embarrassing jeans, "I'm going to get in shape. No more lounging about the lair for me! I'm going where the action is!"

Nadir stared at me for a long moment. Then he started to laugh.

"Oh, Erik! Your sense of humour will be the death of me!"

"No, Nadir," I said, smiling sweetly. "I'm deadly serious. And I'm going to start by demanding a pay rise from the managers."

"And in what way, exactly, is that helping your fellow men?"

"Well," I said philosophically, "the way I see it, the Opera House is far too rich. It has more money than it knows what to do with, so it wastes it on extravagant and vulgar spectacles."

"You mean M. Poligny's new red sparkly ones?" said Nadir, puzzled. "I think they suit him, personally…"

"Don't be silly, Nadir! I mean operas which rely on gimmicks and elaborate stage effects! The roller-skaters in Le Prophete, for example. Such things are an insult to true art! If I demand an additional 5,000 francs a month from the managers, maybe it will discourage them from wasting money on such vulgar things! And I can spend it on redecorating my lair! Everybody benefits!"

"Your logic is as flawless as ever, Erik," said Nadir. He looked at his pocket watch. "I really must be going. I'll meet you in Box Five this evening."

"Yes, Nadir. I'm looking forward to it already."

"And try and stay out of trouble until then, won't you?"

"Of course, Nadir."

Me? In trouble? Now where did Nadir ever get a silly idea like that?