Secret diary of Maximilian Thorn, aged 15 today (6 August)


(follows on from secret diary aged 14 3/4 and secret diary aged 13 3/4)

What a weekend it’s been. The Olympic excitement even got to me on Saturday evening. I couldn’t help it. Every lap Jessica Ennis did on TV, I did one round the sitting room with her. When she won and they were all jumping up and down, I found myself rolling around on the floor with my legs in the air, squealing with excitement. I got up on the settee for a snooze to recover and then, blow me, Mo Farah won the 10,000m and I had to leap off and do a lap of honour with him. What’s going on?

I’ve known for some time that I was a world class tap dancer (Mum calls me Max Astaire), but this athletics stuff is all new. (Actually, I’ve only known about the tap dancing since I had the spinal stroke jobbie last autumn.) Mum says all four legs move independently of each other and I tap dance with the front ones. No idea what she means, but it’s bound to be a compliment. Max Astaire and Nina Rogers – I can see our names in lights now. Perhaps then that delightful little minx will let me tup her.

Apparently it’s my 15th birthday today. People seem to imply that’s old, but you should see some of them. Huh, they won’t see 15 again unless they start going backwards – and for a few decades at that. Honestly, no respect some people.

I wonder if I’m going to get a decent walk today. I used to get taken for miles at a time, but it doesn’t seem as if Mum can do that these days, poor old girl. Most days it’s half an hour round the field. Nice, but a bit repetitive if you know what I mean. Friday I thought we were never going to go. Then, when she finally took us from the garden into the field, she faffed around with the bonfire for ages. Served her right that when she stood up she couldn’t see me. The delightful minx and the brat were gambolling about, but for me a walk’s a walk. I know the route, so I’d gone off on my own. No way I’m hanging about for that bunch. After a while, I think I must have gone uphill a bit and reappeared because she caught sight of me and started laughing (why?), and then ran to catch up.

For my birthday present she’s going to get rid of that brat Satchmo for most of the day. Just a pity she has to go with him; don’t know why he can’t go on his own at his age. Nonetheless, a day alone with Nina is a day alone with Nina, so it’ll be aftershave, candles and champagne in the dog house. (Mem to self – better lick willie really clean this morning in anticipation.)

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