Adrian Mole: Diary of a Provincial Man

Frog leap

Tuesday, October 31, 2000. Ashby-de-la-Zouch

Pandora's weekend home, Lock Keepers Cottage, on the banks of the river Severn has been flooded out. She had to be rescued by a fireman in a Canadian canoe. The rescue was filmed by Midlands Today. Apparently, she and a 19-year-old youth called "Scottish Sandy" had been marooned for a day and a night in Pandora's bedroom. According to her, Sandy had been stacking sandbags against her doorstep when the torrent overtook them and they were forced to flee upstairs. When asked by Julia Snoddy, Midlands Today's weather correspondent, why Pandora had not alerted the emergency services earlier, the controversial MP replied, "I knew how busy they were and did not want to add to their workload."

Asked to describe her ordeal she said, "It was hell, I ran out of Marlboro Lights and I'd left my Prada bag on the sitting-room floor. It has been totally ruined by the floodwater. She told Ms Snoddy that she would be pressing Mr Prescott, the flood supremo, for financial assistance towards flood defences in the Severn-Trent area. "It is time our rivers were lined with concrete," she said. "It would be terribly sad to lose the bullrushes and the wildlifey things, but we are living in a new era and cannot afford to be sentimental about nature."

She pointed out that various retail outlets could be built on the concrete banks of the Severn: "Starbucks coffee shops would bring cappuccino to our neglected countryside areas," she said. Pandora has always hated the countryside: on our nature rambles with the school, she would wear dark glasses saying, "All this green makes me utterly, utterly sick." Lock Keepers Cottage was furnished in New York style. The blinds were kept permanently down. In fact, they were nailed to the sills.

I sincerely hope that Pandora does not achieve her ambition and become the first female Labour prime minister. During many private conversations with her, she has confided in me that she would be quite happy to see the fens covered in decking, Dartmoor replaced with Astroturf and the Lake District equipped with escalators to make it easier for the disabled. My mother claims that Pandora was only joking, but I'm convinced that her contempt for the English language is genuine.

Wednesday, November 1, 2000

My literary agent, Brick Eagleburger (who has failed to sell any of my novels, television series, radio plays or epic poems), got in touch with me today after a period of two years. Somebody in Wolverhampton — a certain Jim Smith — is keen to publish The Restless Tadpole, my 592-page prose poem about a tadpole's journey from the early days of frogspawnhood to the dying moments of old frogdom. It charts the events of the creature's life and draws parallels with events in my own, though I did not include my divorce, as I couldn't find out from any amphibian handbook if frogs went through a form of divorce, or if in fact they stayed faithful to the same partner.

Glenn has just informed me that "frogs are at it day an' night, Dad, with anythink that turns up". Brick Eagleburger said that Jim Smith had sent a fax saying, "The Restless Tadpole is a lyrical lament for the past glory that was the English countryside. I was moved to tears by the frog's violent death under the wheels of a German juggernaut." Brick said, "The guy's payin' zilcho spondoolicks but the exposure's godda be good for ya." I asked for the name of Jim Smith's publication and was told it was Frog Weekly. It touches me greatly that so many people care so deeply about frogs that they can be bothered to fill in the subscription form and fork out nine quid a year. Personally, I can't bear the loathsome slimy creatures.