Guardian Review
Is there a better chronicler of modern Britain than Adrian Albert Mole? Over the past three decades, he has described the ordinary life of an ordinary man, providing a rich seam to be mined by future historians. They probably won't get some of the gags - and they might be bewildered by many of the references - but they'll be rewarded with a vivid portrait of the way we live now. As this book begins, Mole is facing yet another unhappy new year. He's in his early 30s and living in Ashby de la Zouch with his two sons, William and Glenn. Over the following two years, he revisits many of the obsessions - and jokes - that will be familiar to anyone who has read his previous diaries. The lack of cards on February 14. The letter from the BBC, promising to produce his latest magnum opus, which always arrives on April 1. The irresistible rise of Pandora Braithwaite. The chaotic relationship of George and Pauline Mole, his parents. The endless messy gloom of his love life. This is the seventh volume of Mole's diaries and fills a gap between two previous books, Adrian Mole: The Cappuccino Years and Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction . In a foreword, Mole explains that the diaries were lost when he was arrested under anti-terrorism laws and have only recently been returned. He also explains that they "have appeared in the Guardian previously, having been hijacked by a woman fraudster called Sue Townsend. She has made a lucrative living passing herself off as me. I know where she lives - I have been to her house and rung her doorbell, but she refuses to come to the door." This isn't the only self-referential episode in the book: Mole also has to suffer the indignity of reading about himself in the Radio Times when the BBC, having turned down so many of his own masterpieces, broadcasts a version of his diaries. "How does this woman know so much about me? Is she tapping my phone? Has she bugged my house?" In the two years covered here, Adrian seems more depressed than usual and even a bit bored. His teenage passions have faded. Disappointment has soured him. He seems tired of his tragic love life and can hardly bring himself to consummate an unsatisfying fling with his housing officer, Pamela Pigg. He consoles himself by watching Big Brother and falling for his Jungian therapist. And then, right at the end of the book, the tone changes. After September 11 2001, the satire suddenly acquires some real bite. Glenn is sent home from school for calling Tony Blair a twat. "In this time of national crisis, it is incumbent on us all to support our government," his headmaster writes. "I have therefore excluded him from school premises for the duration of the war." In an anthrax scare, talcum powder is removed from the chemist's shelves. The owner of the local garage, Mohammed, is surrounded by police marksmen on his forecourt. As he's led away, he yells, "I was only parked on that double yellow for two minutes!" Three days later, they come for Mole. "Diaries, computer, mobile phone impounded. Am being arrested under Blunkett's anti-terrorist bill. Please inform Liberty." Historians will mark this as the moment at which Britain trembled on the verge of becoming a police state. If Adrian Mole can be thrown in prison on suspicion of terrorism, who is safe? Josh Lacey's Bearkeeper is published by Scholastic. To order The Lost Diaries of Adrian Mole for pounds 9.99 with free UK p&p call Guardian book service on 0870 836 0875 or go to guardian.co.uk/bookshop Caption: article-mole.1 This is the seventh volume of Mole's diaries and fills a gap between two previous books, Adrian Mole: The Cappuccino Years and Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction . In a foreword, Mole explains that the diaries were lost when he was arrested under anti-terrorism laws and have only recently been returned. He also explains that they "have appeared in the Guardian previously, having been hijacked by a woman fraudster called Sue Townsend. She has made a lucrative living passing herself off as me. I know where she lives - I have been to her house and rung her doorbell, but she refuses to come to the door." This isn't the only self-referential episode in the book: Mole also has to suffer the indignity of reading about himself in the Radio Times when the BBC, having turned down so many of his own masterpieces, broadcasts a version of his diaries. "How does this woman know so much about me? Is she tapping my phone? Has she bugged my house?" - Josh Lacey.