The Diary of a Nobody
Being the modern day record of Charles
Pooter VI -
direct descendant of the 19th Century original
Thursday, December 24, 2009
I’m not particularly flush, but I’d willingly give fifty quid to anyone who could tell me who sent me the rude Christmas card I got this morning. I don’t insult people. Why should they insult me? The worst thing about it is, I’ve ended up suspecting my friends. The hand-writing on the envelope slopes backwards (obviously disguised). I don’t reckon Gowing or Cummings would have done it. Lupin said he didn’t know anything about it, and I believe him, although I don’t like the way he laughed at the card. Franching wouldn’t lower himself, and neither would the Mutlars. Perhaps it was Michael Pitt, the self-appointed court jester down at the office. Anya? Rudy? (I don’t reckon it was Anya – the writing’s far too neat).
©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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