Anyone under the age of about 30 should consider tuning out of this blog post right now, because I’m going to discuss someone you’ve probably never heard of.
His name is Adrian Mole, he is the very definition of a whingeing Pom and his diaries kept me entertained right throughout my school years and beyond.
Created by Sue Townsend, the character first appeared in The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole age 13 ¾ back in 1982. And since’s it been reprinted in 30th anniversary form, I thought it timely to check back in.
The basic synopsis of the plot, as recounted at Townsend’s official website, paints Mole as a “hapless teenager providing an unabashed, pimples-and-all-glimpse into adolescent life”. In his case this includes parental marriage woes, the endless zits that plague his face, his fear of school bully Barry Kent, his love for Pandora and his status as a ‘misunderstood intellectual’.
Nor are they just teenage afflictions as he grows up to enjoy a very unimpressive love life and career centred on the world of newts. But what do you expect from such an inauspicious childhood? Here’s an extract from that first teenage diary …
Thursday, January 1
BANK HOLIDAY IN ENGLAND, IRELAND, SCOTLAND AND WALES
These are my New Year’s resolutions:
I will help the blind across the road.
I will hang my trousers up.
I will put the sleeves back on my records.
I will not start smoking.
I will stop squeezing my spots.
I will be kind to the dog.
I will help the poor and ignorant.
After hearing the disgusting noises from downstairs last night, I have also vowed never to drink alcohol.
My father got the dog drunk on cherry brandy at the party last night. If the RSPCA hear about it he could get done. Eight days have gone by since Christmas Day but my mother still hasn’t worn the green lurex apron I bought her for Christmas! She will get bathcubes next year.
Just my luck, I’ve got a spot on my chin for the first day of the New Year!
Friday, January 2nd
BANK HOLIDAY IN SCOTLAND. FULL MOON
I felt rotten today. It’s my mother’s fault for singing My Way at two o’clock in the morning at the top of the stairs. Just my luck to have a mother like her. There is a chance my parents could be alcoholics. Next year I could be in a children’s home. The dog got its own back on my father. It jumped up and knocked down his model ship, then ran into the garden with the rigging tangled in its feet. My father kept saying, ‘Three months’ work down the drain’, over and over again. The spot on my chin is getting bigger. It’s my mother’s fault for not knowing about vitamins.
Saturday, January 3rd
I shall go mad through lack of sleep! My father has banned the dog from the house so it barked outside my window all night. Just my luck! My father shouted a swear-word at it. If he’s not careful he will get done by the police for obscene language. I think the spot is a boil. Just my luck to have it where everybody can see it. I pointed out to my mother I hadn’t had any vitamin C today. She said, ‘Go and buy an orange, then’. This is typical. She still hasn’t worn the lurex apron. I will be glad to get back to school.
Sunday, January 4th
SECOND AFTER CHRISTMAS
My father has got the flu. I’m not surprised with the diet we get. My mother went out in the rain to get him a vitamin C drink, but as I told her, ‘It’s too late now’. It’s a miracle we don’t get scurvy. My mother says she can’t see anything on my chin, but this is guilt because of the diet. The dog has run off because my mother didn’t close the gate. I have broken the arm on the stereo. Nobody knows yet, and with a bit of luck my father will be ill for a long time. He is the only one who uses it apart from me. No sign of the apron.
Monday, January 5th
The dog hasn’t come back yet. It is peaceful without it. My mother rang the police and gave a description of the dog. She made it sound worse than it actually is: straggly hair over its eyes and all that. I really think the police have got better things to do than look for dogs, such as catching murderers. I told my mother this but she still rang them. Serve her right if she was murdered because of the dog. My father is still lazing about in bed. He is supposed to be ill, but I noticed he is still smoking! Nigel came round today. He has got a tan from his Christmas holiday. I think Nigel will be ill soon from the shock of the cold in England. I think Nigel’s parents were wrong to take him abroad. He hasn’t got a single spot yet.
Tuesday, January 6th
EPIPHANY. NEW MOON
The dog is in trouble!
It knocked a meter-reader off his bike and messed all the cards up. So now we will all end up in court I expect. A policeman said we must keep the dog under control and asked how long it had been lame. My mother said it wasn’t lame, and examined it. There was a tiny model pirate trapped in its left front paw.
The dog was pleased when my mother took the pirate out and it jumped up the policeman’s tunic with its muddy paws. My mother fetched a cloth from the kitchen but it had strawberry jam on it where I had wiped the knife, so the tunic was worse than ever. The policeman went then. I’m sure he swore. I could report him for that.
I will look up ‘Epiphany’ in my new dictionary.
Anyway, I’m sure you get the point. And on it goes. You can read more here – as well as extracts from the other Adrian Mole books and collections of his poetry, essays and more – but in the meantime I also enjoyed an interview with the author. You can read the full Q&A here but the below is a great taste…
Do you have a favourite diary entry from the last 30 years?
Saturday April 3 1982 – The last line in the last entry of The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, aged 13 3/4. Written after he had tried glue sniffing and accidentally stuck a model aeroplane to his nose: ‘I rang Pandora, she is coming round after her viola lesson. Love is the only thing that keeps me sane…’
I also like the sequence of entries in the same book made when Mole was trying to paint his bedroom black to cover the Noddy wallpaper; only to be repeatedly thwarted by the bell on Noddy’s hat.
What has been Adrian’s biggest mistake?
To ignore the many persons who have told him his serial killer comedy, The White Van, and his memoir Lo, the Flat Hills of my Homeland, are unpublishable. Mole does not suffer from a lack of self-belief in this regard.
At the Dept of the Environment when he misplaced a decimal point, and erroneously stated that the projection of live newt births for Newport Pagnall was 120,000.
And his greatest triumph?
He still believes his awful novels will be published one day.
That he is still a decent, kind person.
If Adrian Mole was a teenager today, what would he be doing and writing about?
He would be exactly the same, but he wouldn’t be using Twitter to memorialise his life. He would keep a secret diary. Mole’s privacy is still intact. He would not use social networking.
There are still Mole types everywhere, watching the absurdities of the world from the sidelines.
Now watch a clip from the TV show…