My Fat, Mad Teenage Diary
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My Mad Fat Diary is now a major new comedy for E4! It's 1989 and Rae is a fat, boy-mad 17-year-old girl, living in Stamford, Lincolnshire with her mum and their deaf white cat in a council house with a mint off-green bath suite and a larder Rae can't keep away from. This is the hilarious and touching real-life diary she kept during that fateful year - with characters like her evil friend Bethany, Bethany's besotted boyfriend, and the boys from the grammar school up the road (who have code names like Haddock and Battered Sausage). My Mad Fat Diary evokes a vanished time when Charles and Di are still together, the Berlin wall is up, Kylie is expected to disappear from the charts at any moment and it's GBP1 for a Snakebite and Black in the Vaults pub. My Mad Fat Diary will appeal to anyone who's lived through the 1980s. But it will also strike a chord with anyone who's ever been a confused, lonely teenager who clashes with their mother, takes themselves VERY seriously and has no idea how hilarious they are.
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looked out my window. Mrs Bark across the passage was washing up and laughing with her husband. They looked really happy. Even though he was wearing a white vest. Well, off-white. Perhaps true love is blind. Good Friday 24.3.89 HOT CROSS BUMS. HURRAH! HA! Meant to write buns!! I must be obsessed. Bethany is gutted because she has to take a week of pills for them to work, and they can make you put on weight . . . OH YES, YES, YES – there is a God! PLEASE let her pile it on. Actually I wouldn’t
Sausage when he looks at me I feel weird. Like tonight in the pub he was sitting on my knee and just . . . all the eye contact. I could read everything – and yet nothing all at the same time. I wonder if blokes go home and go over and over and over conversations in their head? Do they wonder what really goes on underneath everything? I wonder if there are pages and pages written about me? I mean – blokes must wonder, surely? Big party tomorrow night. Excited but also bricking it as I am wearing
mean??!! Is she eloping to Switzerland with Dieter? I am gagging to find out but she wafted out before I could question her more. I only said a few words to Haddock tonight. Him and his girlfriend were mooning over each other. He told me he was working so hard because he wanted to get me a good marriage dowry, and then he said I was a bargain at the price. Oh – that man! Those big bloody eyes. When I see him appear from behind the jukebox my heart leaps ten foot in the air – and it doesn’t
about rejection, love and divine retribution, but more earthly issues such as GCSE maths retake loom tomorrow, so sleep is called for. Who wants to be arsed with fractions when you could be thinking about things that really matter? Like what Haddock meant last night, and Haddock’s magnificent arse. FIREWORKS Haddock is like a rocket Exploding in my brain, My fat puts out his sparkle Like a firework by the rain. I wish for bangs and whooshes For desire that makes me thud, I have to
Stamford. I was going to a review of the 80s, but I’ve decided it would be too depressing. Friday 22.12.89 10.50 p.m. WELL, ADNAN IS BACK FOR Christmas. His English has improved. He must have been having lessons, as when I wished him happy Christmas, he said, ‘You also. Jesus prophet me too.’ Mum was quick to tell me that Islam has Jesus as a prophet. They are mooning over each other like a couple of teenagers . . . and keep disappearing into the kitchen muttering and kissing. Tonight in the