Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction

An elderly woman wearing a rabbit’s paw brooch came in and complained that I had sold her Trainspotting by Irving Welsh as a Christmas present for her 76-year-old railway enthusiast husband. She said, ‘It’s nothing but filth and Scottish words. My husband had to double his blood pressure tablets after reading it.’ I swapped it for Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie.

Lord Jenkins of Hillhead, formally Roy Jenkins, died today, aged eighty-two. Had he been able to pronounce his Rs he would almost certainly have become prime minister.

I was asked to name the next book. I suggested Stupid White Men by Michael Moore. Bernard Hopkins blustered and swore and said, ‘If I’d written a book called Stupid Black Men, I’d have been had up by the race relations industry’

I asked her what she loved about me, and she said, ‘Your kind face, your gentle voice and the way your hair curls on the back of your neck.’ I was slightly disappointed; I had expected her to mention my intelligence, general knowledge and wit.

We stayed sitting on the floor, and Mohammed explained that his personal interpretation was not shared by anybody else, including his sons. ‘Each Muslim interprets the Koran in their own way,’ he said. Melanie sighed and said, ‘I’m a bit disappointed to hear that. I was hoping to find some definite rules on how to live my life.’.

… I watched the plane hurtle down the runway and throw itself into the sky ….

Daisy was up at 5 a.m., washing, ironing and packing her little trolley suitcase. I took her to catch the 7.19 train to London. On the way I asked where she got her energy from. She said, ‘Drugs’, I hope she was joking.

Sue Townsend: Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction