Adrian Mole and The Weapons of Mass Destruction (31 page)

As you know, I am a poor man. My mission in life – to educate the people of Leicester in correct nutritional practices – has largely failed. There have been complaints that our unwashed organic vegetables take too long to prepare and are riddled with worm-holes!

I expect to see you soon. Your contribution to Marigold’s recuperative holiday is £999.50.

Yours in peace

Michael

PS Cash would be appreciated; the bank is being difficult.

I did a long and complicated calculation and discovered that I have no money in my current account and none available on either of my credit cards. After a phone call I found out that store cards do not advance cash. However, it would be good to get Marigold out of the country and off my conscience for two weeks, so I have no choice but to break into my hitherto sacred building society deposit account.

I showed Michael Flowers’s note to my father in hospital tonight. He said, ‘Ditch the bitch.’

When I left he was wearing a nicotine patch on both arms.

On the way out, I asked a nurse if there was a medical reason why my father was lying flat on his back without a pillow.

She said, ‘It’s not medical, it’s financial. If your father wants a pillow, you’ll have to bring him one from home.’

A cruise missile hit a marketplace in Baghdad, killing many civilians. Kofi Annan said in a very small voice that ‘People around the world are questioning the legitimacy of the war against Iraq.’

Wrote to the council today.

Leicester City Council

Unit 4

New Walk

The Old Battery Factory

Leicester
LE1

Rat Wharf

Grand Union Canal

Leicester
LE
1

March 26th 2003

Dear Sir or Madam

I have tried many times to contact you by telephone. I wish to complain about the behaviour of a flock of swans, namely the creatures that inhabit the stretch of canal between Packhorse Bridge and Dye Works Lane. I do not know which department is responsible for the behaviour of swans.

I would like to know:

a) Is culling permitted?

b) Is the Grand Union Canal Leicester City Council property? and

c) To whom do I apply to effect a council tax rebate due to swan misbehaviour?

A swan recently broke a man’s arm; will you please alert your legal department that a claim against Leicester City Council is imminent.

I look forward to your rapid response.

Yours faithfully

A. A. Mole

Lorraine Harris was the first of the readers’ group to arrive; she told me that she had been plaiting hair all day, for a wedding. She said to me, ‘Your hair’s getting long. Are you growing it?’

I said that I had been too busy to go to Ken at Quick Snip.

She said she had been talking in the salon about
Madame Bovary
, and that several of the women had asked if they could get it on DVD.

The discussion about
Madame Bovary
got quite heated at times.

Lorraine Harris said that Emma reminded her of her best friend in Jamaica who had married a quantity surveyor who was so boring that people called him Lockjaw.

Mohammed said, ‘I was very disturbed by this book. It condones adultery and the accumulation of debt. I was also concerned about the child of the marriage. Mrs Bovary was a very neglectful mother.’

Melanie ‘I’m only a housewife’ Oates said hesitantly, ‘I
think
Madame Bovary
is a very good book. I couldn’t put it down. I wanted her to run off with her soldier lover and I couldn’t bear it when he let her down.’ She looked around angrily at the men in the room. Her voice rose. ‘There’s not one man you can trust, not one. You’re all the same.’

Mr Carlton-Hayes fiddled nervously with his pipe.

Lorraine Harris said, ‘I thought Flaubert was out of order making Emma kill herself, just because she’d gone over her credit limit and bought a few bonnets and ribbons and stuff.’

Darren said, picking at the plaster on his jeans, ‘Sorry, I didn’t have time to change. I came straight from work. I think it’s the best book I’ve ever read. That bit where Doctor Bovary does surgery on the village idiot’s club foot was so real, I had to get up and take two extra-strong Nurofen. I really felt the pain.’

Mr Carlton-Hayes said that Flaubert was a marvellous writer and his sentences were so beautifully constructed, he used to beat out the rhythm on his writing table. Mr Carlton-Hayes demonstrated by reading a sentence aloud and beating on the side of the armchair he was sitting in.

Before Darren left I gave him a copy of
Jude the Obscure
and said, ‘I think you’ll like this.’

Mr Carlton-Hayes has chosen
William, the Outlaw
by Richmal Crompton for the next book. When they were buying their copies, Lorraine said, ‘I ain’t really into kids’ books no more.’

Mr Carlton-Hayes explained that William Brown was an English comic hero and that his adventures were essential reading.

At midday Geoff Hoon announced that British forces have evidence that Iraq is ready to use chemical weapons against Allied forces.

I have sent a text message to Johnny Bond at Latesun Ltd:

Weapons of Mass Destruction have been found. Please refund my deposit and apologize. An ex-customer.
A. A. Mole

My father seems to have recovered quite well and is alert enough to be keeping notes of everything that goes wrong with his treatment. He showed me his notebook. The last entry read, ‘At four o’clock a porter came to take me down to theatre for a hysterectomy.’ He had misspelled ‘hysterectomy’, but I let it pass. He has been fixed up to Patient Line, a new service which provides each patient with their own television, radio and telephone line at a cost of £2.50 a day. He is able to watch the war in Iraq 24/7.

At 7 o’clock this morning the BBC reported that last night British troops raided Basra to destroy two statues
of Saddam Hussein. They then withdrew to their fortified camp on the outskirts of the town.

I have no doubt the citizens of Basra will be rejoicing in the streets when they wake up and see Saddam’s effigies have been toppled in the night.

At 6 o’clock this evening the Pentagon admitted that seven US Tomahawk missiles had missed their targets.

At 6.30 my mother rang from my father’s bedside to say that it had just been reported that a Tomahawk missile had landed near Kuwait City. She said, ‘Have you heard if our Glenn is safe?’

I said that the Commander of British Forces in the Gulf, General Mike Jackson, did not have my mobile number.

She said, ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic, Adrian. I’m worried sick about the boy.’

I heard my father say, in a masterful voice, ‘Give me the phone, Pauline.’ To me, he said, ‘This is bad news for fans of hi-tech weapons. Tomahawk missiles are meant to be capable of finding a target 690 miles from the launch site, weaving in and around buildings, navigating their way in the dark and hitting something the size of a post-office letter box more accurately than the bleeding post office. And the bloody things cost $600,000 each. I’m gutted, Adrian, the technology has let us down. David only had a bleedin’ sling but he managed to hit Goliath smack between the eyes.’

I asked him how long he had been a fan of hi-tech weaponry.

He said he had always liked guns, tanks and other
weapons but it was only lately that he had dared to admit his interest. He added, almost whispering, ‘Your mother’s never known the real George Mole.’

I asked to speak to my mother again, and said, ‘Is it tonight we have to change the clocks?’

She said that it was.

I asked if it was forwards or backwards; I can never remember which.

She said, ‘It’s easy: spring forward, fall back.’

I said, ‘But do the clocks go backwards or forwards?’

She said again, ‘Spring forward, fall back.’

I broke off the call, saying I had left something in the oven. I can’t talk to her when she is in one of her moods.

Mothering Sunday. British Summer Time begins

The Americans are on their way to liberate Baghdad.

Marigold rang in tears to ask why I had not sent her a Mother’s Day card.

Sharon rang in tears to say that she had received a Mother’s Day card from Glenn. ‘There was sand inside the envelope,’ she wept.

My mother rang in tears to ask me why I had not sent her a Mother’s Day card.

I went to the Piggeries this afternoon and took a card bought in the BP garage which showed a mutton-dressed-as-lamb type of mother sipping champagne in a nightclub. I also bought her two bags of logs and a packet of
firelighters. There is no point in buying her flowers; there is no ledge in the camper van on which to put a vase.

However, one of the pigsties now has four walls and will soon have a roof. When the sun came out, briefly, my mother took her plaid shirt off and sunbathed for a while in her T-shirt and dungarees. I noticed that she has developed very impressive muscles in her upper arms.

When I went into the camper van, I saw that Animal had also given my mother a card. I felt a twinge of jealousy. For how long will the brute be sleeping in their tent?

Gordon Brown has now set aside £3 billion, and said, ‘The armed forces need to be properly equipped.’ Surprising, since I have studied his body language on television and he doesn’t seem too keen on the war.

April Fool’s Day

Glenn rang me on my mobile to wish me a happy birthday for tomorrow.

I asked him where he was and he said, ‘Outside your front door, I’m on my mobile.’

I ran to the door and yanked it open. But there was nobody there. The idiot boy said, ‘And Happy April Fool’s Day, Dad!’

I failed to see the joke and again asked him where he was.

He said, ‘I can’t tell you exactly where, that’s classified information. But I’m still in that country that begins with K and there’s still a lot of sand about.’

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him how much I loved him and worried about him, but I couldn’t quite manage to get the words out. I asked him what it was like out there.

He said, ‘It ain’t ’alf ’ot, Dad,’ without any sense of irony.

I ran home at lunchtime to meet the rat-catcher. He filled a small sack with dead rats from under the kitchen units. He said, ‘There is forensic evidence pointing to new nest-building behind the bath. I’m surprised you haven’t heard them moving about.’

I said, ‘Well, they’re not assembling scaffolding or using a concrete mixer, are they?’

He said, ‘Why are you being so defensive, Mr Mole? There is no shame sharing your house with rats. Perhaps you are hard of hearing.’

I told him that I was not yet thirty-five and that the reason I had not heard nest-building activity was that I automatically switched on Radio Four as soon as I entered the bathroom.

We talked about
The Archers
and agreed that political correctness was in danger of crowding out the agricultural storylines.

I said, ‘The next character they introduce will be a
native American woman called Running Deer, who pitches her tepee in the car park of the Bull.’

He laughed so hard he almost dropped his bag of rats.

He remembered our last conversation about women and asked about the Marigold situation. I said, ‘I still have dealings with her, because I am the father of her unborn child. So I’ll never be entirely free of her, will I?’

He said that he had fathered two children, a boy and a girl, but was prevented from seeing them by a court order.

I asked him why. He said, shiftily, ‘I’ve got a bit of a temper.’

Watched
Midlands Today
.

The first item was about a pensioner from Nottingham who had beaten off a mugger with a cucumber.

The second item was about the rescue of a dog called Butch, who had been stuck down a drain for three days in a village called Humberstone. His rescue involved the police, the fire service, an RSPCA emergency vehicle and a WRVS mobile canteen. Personally, I would have left the dog down the drain to starve until it had lost enough weight to enable it to climb out by itself.

The third item showed Pandora Braithwaite standing on Westminster Green, opposite the Houses of Parliament, announcing that she has resigned from her job as a junior minister in the Department of the Environment. She looked sad and angry and beautiful. She said that she would ‘continue to work tirelessly for my constituents in Ashby de la Zouch, but I cannot support the invasion of Iraq’.

My birthday.

I am thirty-five today. I am officially middle-aged. It is all downhill from now. A pathetic slide towards gum disease, wheelchair ramps and death.

I do not feel able to celebrate, not with Glenn at war.

After work, I drove to the Piggeries to take my mother to the hospital. Animal has made amazing progress. The roof timbers are in place, and he’s completed digging the trench that will eventually bring fresh water.

I opened the present that Marigold had sent round to the shop at my father’s bedside. It was a birthday cake that would not have been out of place on a bird table.

Call me old school, but I think it should be compulsory for a birthday cake to have jam, icing and candles. People who make birthday cakes with wholegrain flour and decorate them with sunflower seeds should be given a community service order and be compelled to go to punitive cake-making classes. I’m serious about this, diary. Am I becoming more right wing now that I’m middle-aged?

My father had sent one of the nurses out to buy me more golf guff! A diamond-patterned jumper and a golf-ball warmer. When I asked him why, he said, ‘You’re being stubborn. You haven’t given it a chance. You’re thirty-five now, son, and you’ve never played a round of golf.’

He made it sound as if I had never tried to tie my own
shoelaces. Anyway, I don’t see why he is so supportive of golf, he was thrown out of the Fair Green Golf Club for wearing cut-off jeans on the green during a heat wave in 1993.