The Diary of a Nobody
Being the modern day record of Charles
Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Bit of a big day today. Our first real party since moving in. I came back early. Lupin had got one of the girls from the Comedy Kings to act as waitress (dressed in a short black skirt and fishnets, would you believe), and said he’d pay her a tenner an hour. I thought it was a bit extravagant to shell out £40 on something so frivolous, but Lupin said he’d made a bit of money on the side down in the City, so no worries. I hope he’s not gambling or anything stupid like that. The living room looked great and Carrie said “If Barry Perkupp’s nice enough to come, he’ll be impressed”.I got myself sorted well in advance in case anyone turned up on the dot of eight. I was irritated that my new chinos were too short. Lupin said my brown leather loafers were horrendous, and a fashion disaster. I said, sarcastically, “I’m above that sort of thing”. He started sniggering and said “Yeah, an old fart is usually above his loafers”.
Maybe funny, maybe not. Luckily he didn’t notice that the inlay on one of my cuff-links was chipped. Carrie was wearing her Civic Hall dress and looked great. Everything was laid out really well. We had scented candles burning all round the living room.
Shirley Wicks (the girl from the Comedy Kings who was going to be waitress for the evening) arrived. I told her to open the champagne bottles one at a time. Carrie got some Jacob’s Creek and Belgian lager and put it out on the table. We’d had some photos of us enlarged and framed, and put up on the walls. They looked good, particularly with the tinsel Carrie had run along the top of them.
The first person to show up was Gowing who (tactful as ever) said “Hey Pooter! Your trousers are too short”.
I said “Gowing – you’ll find my temper’s pretty short also”. He said “Yeah, but it won’t make your trousers any longer, will it?” He said “Get your mrs to lengthen them with a bit of curtain”.
I don’t know why I bother recording Gowing’s stupid comments.
Next to turn up were Cummings and his wife. Cummings said “You didn’t say what we should wear, but I’ve made a bit of an effort”. He was wearing jeans and a tie. Annie James and her husband arrived, and then Dominic Merton and Stillbrook. Lupin was totally on edge, until Daisy and Frank turned up.
Carrie and I were a bit startled at what Daisy was wearing. She was kitted out in some kind of low-cut satin basque and a denim mini-skirt. Not exactly appropriate, I’d have said. She could learn a thing or two from Carrie who doesn’t like to wear anything too revealing. Some other chaps I know rolled up (Chris Nackles and Charlie Sprice-Hogg and his four daughters) as did Jim Franching and some of Lupin’s new mates from the Comedy Kings. A load of camp luvvies in my opinion. One of them was posing around like Julian Clary. He leant on the small round table and damaged it. Lupin called him “our Henry” and said he was as camp as tents. I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.
The music was going and Daisy sang along to the one from Titanic. Lupin raved about how she “totally had the X-factor”. It’s an OK song, but her face was all contorted as she sang it, and (I’m pretty sure Simon Cowell would have backed me up on this) she was completely out of tune. Regardless, Lupin encouraged her to do more, and unfortunately she swayed around the room singing along to a load more numbers at the top of her voice.
At about nine, we put the food out. From the way Gowing and Cummings stuffed themselves, you’d have thought they’d not eaten for a month. I told Carrie to save something for Barry Perkupp in case he decided to put in an appearance. Gowing annoyed me by filling up a glass of champagne and downing it in one. Then he did the same again. I was worried that the dozen bottles we’d splashed out on wouldn’t last. I tried to hide one, but Lupin got hold of it, sat down with Daisy and Henry and started swigging from the bottle.
The young people started arseing around. Carrie got them to calm down. Stillbrook started singing some funny (but rather rude) rugby songs. I didn’t notice that Lupin and Henry had disappeared. I asked Jimmy (one of the Comedy Kings) where they’d got to and he said “Jones’s knickers”. We were told to sit down, the music stopped and someone put on “It’s not Unusual” (the Tom Jones song). In came Lupin, his face bright orange and a fake chest wig poking out of a white satin shirt unbuttoned to the waist, with a load of gold medallions hanging round his neck. He started miming to the song, and then Henry ran in, in a blue-rinse wig looking like Les Dawson used to when he did those sketches. He started dancing round Lupin, throwing big pairs of knickers at him, so his face got covered in them. We were all cracking up.
I turned round, and saw Barry Perkupp standing in the doorway. He’d slipped in without my knowing. Carrie and I went across to him. He didn’t want to come into the room. I apologised for Lupin and Frank’s thing and he said “No worries. It looks very funny”. I could see he didn’t think it was funny at all.
Carrie and I took him into the kitchen, but it was a complete mess - there were plates and bits of food and half-empty glasses and crushed cans all over the place, and the floor was sticky. Not a drop of champagne left. I offered Barry Perkupp a glass of tonic, but the bottle was empty. Carrie said we’d got the remains of a bottle of whisky if he fancied some, but he said “I don’t think so. But I’m glad to have seen you here. Goodnight Carrie. Apologies for my very brief visit”. I went out to the car with him and he said “Don’t bother coming into the office tomorrow until after lunch”.
Going back to the house I felt depressed and told Carrie that the party was a complete disaster. Carrie said it was brilliant – I was just tired. She told me to have some of the whisky. I drank two glasses, felt a lot better and went back into the living room. I gave Carrie a big hug and a long smoochy kiss and she said I was soft.
©MMIX KONSIGNIA. All rights reserved.
Why shouldn’t
I publish
my diary?
I often see memoirs by people I’ve never even heard of and I don’t see why my diary should be any less interesting, just because I’m not a ‘celebrity’. I only wish I’d started it when I was younger.
Charles Pooter
The Laurels, 32 Elmside,
Barleycorn Mead, Harrow on the Hill.
charles@charlespooter.com
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