(Inspired, sort of, by http://home.nyu.edu/~amw243/diaries/ and http://www.wasps-nest.diaryland.com, but, obviously, fit to hold a candle to neither.
Please don't be even remotely offended by this – I'm just being silly. More on the way, if this one doesn't get flamed too much…)
This Miserable Diary belongs to: Enjolras
14th September, 1827
University of Paris bit of a let-down in general. Students apparently think standing around on barricades waiting to be shot simply a game for rich young boys to play. Have spent Freshers Week writing abusive missives to swells who run this show.
15th September, 1827
Success! Have established band of loyal followers by standing on tables and singing. Cannot be entirely sure whether they are in it because they wholeheartedly believe in upholding the noble aims of the Republic or because they want to get into my pants, but at this stage too excited to care.
16th September, 1827
Turns out the unkempt absinthe-swigging one is definitely in it because he wants to get into my pants.
30th April, 1828
Courfeyrac turned up at Café Musain with new girlfriend called Mary Sue today. Was agog, also aghast, and about to go into big long tirade about being unaware there was a creature on earth called woman until Courfeyrac pointed out they weren't sleeping together. Only possible reason for this is that Mary Sue is actually of the male persuasion, but will take more than that to convince me.
1st May, 1828
Turns out Mary Sue is actually called Marius and is a boy after all. Took Combeferre upwards of ninety minutes to explain the difference.
No progress on insurrection front. Irksome, as rather counting on being shot before end of study course as am blatantly never going to pass Finals.
14th October, 1829
Caught Marius perving on me while standing on table singing today. Told him he was no longer a child and didn't doubt he meant it well, but now there was a higher call and if he wanted to get into my pants there was a queue all the way to Poland.
15th October, 1829
Feuilly didn't turn up at Musain today. Later transpired he was most offended over Poland reference. May have to sleep with him in order to restore his faith in the cause.
2nd June, 1831
V. miffed. Courfeyrac told me he nearly had a restraining order put on Pontmercy for chasing some random hussy round the Luxembourg. Said I thought whole thing most improper as surely the only pants Marius wanted to get into were mine and perhaps my split ends were to blame? Courfeyrac called me a nancing narcissistic pretty-boy ponce. Was agog, also aghast; slapped Courfeyrac with handbag.
May have to sleep with him as apology, as he is now in hospital with concussion.
28th May, 1832
Lamarque is dead! Lamarque! His death is the hour of fate!
Hatching plans for insurrection post-haste. Is all terribly exciting much like Christmas only with more death.
28th May, 1832
Has only just occurred to me that getting shot may involve considerable mitigation of my ethereal beauty. Perhaps a surgical mask? Will ask Joly for medical advice although may have to sleep with him in return.
5th June, 1832
Lamarque's funeral. Am positively wetting self with excitement yet externally maintaining unflappable dignity and statue-like, er, stature. Am calm, oh yes, am calm.
Ooops, drooling on page again.
Marius asleep on Courfeyrac's floor with all his clothes on in the middle of the afternoon. Doubtless my continued rebuffs of his advances have finally rendered him insane. May have to sleep with him before he gets shot, just for old times' sake.
Funeral quite sad. All the same, no excuse for Prouvaire blowing nose on tricolour sash – why couldn't he use one of the hankies he's always waving about like a big girl's blouse? Really, some people.
Mostly just standing around being pretty at the moment. Shot a bloke, did a speech, la la la.
6th June, 1832, v. early
Insurrection still awfully exciting but quite frankly disappointed at lack of interest from others. Combeferre conducting pre-emptive post-mortem on Joly; Courfeyrac and Bossuet sitting on upturned coach playing scissors, paper and stone; haven't seen Bahorel or Prouvaire since teatime yesterday.
Really, expected more commitment from those two. Will be having strong words with them if find out they are boozing it up in nearest still-intact pub.
Turns out Bahorel and Prouvaire have been dead all along. Ooops.
Bored, bored, bored. Everyone dead (even Joly despite walking about in Kevlar-reinforced barrel). Going to poke Grantaire awake and see if he still wants to get into my pants before he gets shot.
Turns out he does. Will sleep with him as soon as have heroically fended off National Guard. Will not take long, as likely to stun them into submission with marble-Apollo-like gorgeousness.
Ten minutes later