Adrian Mole: Diary of a Provincial Man

The martial art of paper folding

Sunday, September 23. Ashby-de-la-Zouch

Brett is still here. He claims that the events of September 11 have traumatised him and have rendered him incapable of using transport of any kind. Over breakfast this morning, he said to me, "I could be here for ever, Adrian." He is formidably clever, and seems to have read every book printed in English, French and German since Caxton invented the printing press. Infuriatingly, he quotes from them constantly, and corrects my own attributions.

He has been helping out Glenn with his homework; consequently, the teachers at Neil Armstrong Community College are now talking excitedly about the boy being only the second pupil to get to Oxbridge (the first was Pandora). William is in love with "Uncle Brett", and follows him around the house like the Old Shep that Elvis sang about. Origami is only one of Brett's many skills. This morning he transformed the G2 section of the Guardian into Balliol College, complete with dons and undergraduates.

He is constantly on the phone to his many friends around the world. He assures me that he will stump up for his share of the phone bill. Then, a moment later, laughs about his state of penury.

He and my father get on like a house in flames, and talk endlessly about football players, cricketers and rugby oafs — people I have never heard of.

Monday, September 24

I heard with alarm today that, due to the coming «Crusade» or "Infinite Justice" or "The Conflict" or "World War Three", David Blunkett has warned that my civil liberties may be restricted in the future, and that I may have to carry an identity card with me at all times. Since I am constantly losing my Sainsbury's Reward Card, the future looks dim for me.

Tuesday, September 25

Brett is making a documentary about post-twin towers trauma using a Panasonic hand-held digital video camera. Channel 4 and BBC 2 are bidding for the rights. He interviewed me at length in the kitchen. When he played it back to me, I noticed that my Afghan coat was hanging on the back of the kitchen door. I asked Brett to re-shoot, but he refused, saying that he would not be censored.