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Authors: Dermot Milligan
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shuffles back to his office. He wears carpet slippers and has fantastically hairy ears, which tells you all you really need to know about him.
Dinner at home was spinach risotto. No comfort there. Dad ate his in the loo. I think he may well have cut out the middleman and flushed it straight down the pan.
Today was one of those rare days when one donut seemed like enough. Not quite sure why. There is something incomprehensible deep down in the soul of every person, I suppose.
DONUT COUNT:
1 Just in case you don’t know, electrons have a negative electric charge, whilst protons have a positive charge and neutrons a neutral charge. Blimey, I can be boring, sometimes.
Tuesday 26 September
RAINED LIKE A dog today, so we had to stay in our form rooms at break.
I did some more work on the made-up Donut Diary to show to Doc Morlock. Renfrew and Spam helped me out.
I put in the bit about there being something incomprehensible in the soul of every human being, which I thought made me sound pretty deep. The best bit was this, though:
‘I gazed out of my window and saw a tiny little bird pecking at the hard ground. It looked like it was probably starving. In fact it was definitely soon going to be lying on its back with its legs in the air, totally dead. I was going to eat a small donut, but the little bird looked at me with such sad eyes that I crumbled it up and threw it out of the window. The bird gobbled up the donut crumbs and then flew away without even whistling a quick thank you, which I thought was pretty rude. But I didn’t mind because I knew I’d done the Right Thing and saved its life by sacrificing my donut. But then, that’s the kind of person I am.’
It was Renfrew’s idea to put ‘gazed’ instead of plain old ‘looked’, as it’s more poetic and thoughtful.
While we were working on the diary, Corky showed off his epic farting ability. He doesn’t have to wait for one to come along, but just does them when he wants to. So, if you say, ‘Corky, give us a fart,’ he just does. Amazing, really.
It didn’t amuse Tamara Bello much, though. She’d been reading her book of Chekhov short stories, but when the smell reached her she used the book to waft the smell back, then threw it at me, as if I’d been the one who was farting. Turns out Chekhov packs quite a punch when it gets you in the middle of the forehead.
I kept meaning to talk to Renfrew about my disappearing act on the canal but the chance never came up. He probably didn’t notice it …
DONUT COUNT:
(Mr Alexis’s donut counter was completely empty. He gave me a stale muffin out of sheer pity.)
Wednesday 27 September
AT MORNING BREAK today the FHK came up to me.
‘We haven’t properly met, have we?’ he said.
I’d only ever really heard him say, ‘Get lost, fatty’ before. His voice was so posh he sounded like someone off the telly. I don’t mean EastEnders , I mean posh telly – the news or something. He stuck his hand out and continued, ‘My name’s Paul Steerforth.’
I didn’t know what to do. This was my enemy, my tormentor, and now he was being friendly. Almost by itself my hand went out to his, and he shook it firmly.
‘I’m—’ I was going to say Dermot, that being my name, but for some reason I stopped myself. ‘I’m Donut,’ I said defiantly.
The FHK smiled. He had very white teeth. ‘Good to meet you, Donut. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about the other morning. I tried to stop those kids … that stupid prank with the tuba—’
‘Sousaphone,’ I said.
‘What? OK, whatever. Anyway, I thought it was pretty poor behaviour. I believe in giving everyone a chance. That’s all, really. See you around.’
Then he clapped me on the back and wandered off. I asked Renfrew to check my back to make sure he hadn’t stuck on a ‘kick me’ sign, but it was clean.
All very mysterious.
Soup tonight for dinner. Leek and potato. It would have been OK if it hadn’t had the leeks and potatoes in
Dinner at home was spinach risotto. No comfort there. Dad ate his in the loo. I think he may well have cut out the middleman and flushed it straight down the pan.
Today was one of those rare days when one donut seemed like enough. Not quite sure why. There is something incomprehensible deep down in the soul of every person, I suppose.
DONUT COUNT:
1 Just in case you don’t know, electrons have a negative electric charge, whilst protons have a positive charge and neutrons a neutral charge. Blimey, I can be boring, sometimes.
Tuesday 26 September
RAINED LIKE A dog today, so we had to stay in our form rooms at break.
I did some more work on the made-up Donut Diary to show to Doc Morlock. Renfrew and Spam helped me out.
I put in the bit about there being something incomprehensible in the soul of every human being, which I thought made me sound pretty deep. The best bit was this, though:
‘I gazed out of my window and saw a tiny little bird pecking at the hard ground. It looked like it was probably starving. In fact it was definitely soon going to be lying on its back with its legs in the air, totally dead. I was going to eat a small donut, but the little bird looked at me with such sad eyes that I crumbled it up and threw it out of the window. The bird gobbled up the donut crumbs and then flew away without even whistling a quick thank you, which I thought was pretty rude. But I didn’t mind because I knew I’d done the Right Thing and saved its life by sacrificing my donut. But then, that’s the kind of person I am.’
It was Renfrew’s idea to put ‘gazed’ instead of plain old ‘looked’, as it’s more poetic and thoughtful.
While we were working on the diary, Corky showed off his epic farting ability. He doesn’t have to wait for one to come along, but just does them when he wants to. So, if you say, ‘Corky, give us a fart,’ he just does. Amazing, really.
It didn’t amuse Tamara Bello much, though. She’d been reading her book of Chekhov short stories, but when the smell reached her she used the book to waft the smell back, then threw it at me, as if I’d been the one who was farting. Turns out Chekhov packs quite a punch when it gets you in the middle of the forehead.
I kept meaning to talk to Renfrew about my disappearing act on the canal but the chance never came up. He probably didn’t notice it …
DONUT COUNT:
(Mr Alexis’s donut counter was completely empty. He gave me a stale muffin out of sheer pity.)
Wednesday 27 September
AT MORNING BREAK today the FHK came up to me.
‘We haven’t properly met, have we?’ he said.
I’d only ever really heard him say, ‘Get lost, fatty’ before. His voice was so posh he sounded like someone off the telly. I don’t mean EastEnders , I mean posh telly – the news or something. He stuck his hand out and continued, ‘My name’s Paul Steerforth.’
I didn’t know what to do. This was my enemy, my tormentor, and now he was being friendly. Almost by itself my hand went out to his, and he shook it firmly.
‘I’m—’ I was going to say Dermot, that being my name, but for some reason I stopped myself. ‘I’m Donut,’ I said defiantly.
The FHK smiled. He had very white teeth. ‘Good to meet you, Donut. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about the other morning. I tried to stop those kids … that stupid prank with the tuba—’
‘Sousaphone,’ I said.
‘What? OK, whatever. Anyway, I thought it was pretty poor behaviour. I believe in giving everyone a chance. That’s all, really. See you around.’
Then he clapped me on the back and wandered off. I asked Renfrew to check my back to make sure he hadn’t stuck on a ‘kick me’ sign, but it was clean.
All very mysterious.
Soup tonight for dinner. Leek and potato. It would have been OK if it hadn’t had the leeks and potatoes in
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