I Don't Know How She Does It by Allison Pearson

(Chatto & Windus, £12.99)
Condensed in the style of the original
I Don't Know How She Does It

1.37am Why am I up at this time of night distressing the M&S mince pies for Emily's carol concert when I've got to fly to New York first thing? Because I can't trust Rich to do it. And why's he called Rich when he earns less than the nanny? Come to think of it, why am I called Kate Reddy, my boss Rod Task and my email flirtee Jack Abelhammer? Oh, I see, I've got into one of those books where people's names describe their characters in a terribly amusing way.

8.52am Sorry about that, I've got a bit more time to chat now I'm in midair. So what do you need to know? I'm a fund manager with Ernest Morgan Foster; I've got two gorgeous kids, Emily and Ben, whom I feel tremendously guilty about. Ah, that reminds me. There, I've just ticked all the boxes for the Hamley's catalogue. Now where was I? Ah yes, all men are useless. Things to remember: cancel the stress-busting massage.

6.03am Just back from New York. Almost had sex with Jack. Rich tries to bully me into a reunion shag, but I pretend to fall asleep. "We need to talk," he says later. "Don't you realise I've got a very important presentation in 50 minutes?" I reply. Life is so much tougher for women.

10.49am Presentation interrupted by the arrival of my dad. The loser needs some money. "Will £10K do?" I snap. Why does every mega-woman have a useless father? Why can't I have an easy life earning the same mega-bucks churning out dreary columns or chatting to Tom and Tony?

2.42pm Momo and I won the right to manage the ethical fund. Hooray. Rich has left home. The nanny's gone Awol. A colleague's wife has died, adding pathos and poignancy to my predicament.

7.10pm My kids fail to recognise me.

7.12am Some porno pics of Momo were found by her doing the rounds at work. Persuade hated male colleague who did this to invest in my dad's project, thereby paying off his debts and wasting EMF's money.

9.15am Resign from EMF. Sell house, move to Derbyshire to return to honest working-class roots. Am back with Rich, kiss kiss. Never did shag Jack, boo hoo. The kids have never been happier. And who's this at the door? My sister Julie saying the local doll's house factory is about to close. Do I spot an opportunity?

The digested read, digested: A passingly amusing newspaper column mistakenly allowed to get totally out of hand