7. Bridget Jones's Diary
If Bridget was a bloodsucker, it would be the perfect anti-thesis to
Twilight. Instead of swanning SWAN-ning, geddit? around in crisp white leisure suits like the Cullen clan, poor old Bridge is destined to live forever in a small London flat, getting tanked on red wine mixed with white blood cells and watching re-runs of her bum sliding down a firemans pole. But its not all depressing. When Bridget isnt at the office thinking of creative ways to slaughter her annoying co-workers and then writing about it an adorably twee diary, she and her friends Jude, Tom and Shazza are smoking up a storm whilst gossiping about mortals. Except instead of blue soup accidentally coloured with string dye, Bridget cooks up a soup made from the blue veins of a young virgin. And then of course theres her fellas, the humans Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver. As Bridgets goofiness and gleaming fangs manage to suck the coldness from Mark Darcys personality, so do her teeth manage to sap away Hugh Grants acting talent. And with the last name Cleaver well, he shouldnt have been such a jerk about Bridgets bunny outfit.