Because I have been rather desperate for things to occupy
my waking hours of late, I bring you a) Feuilly's Miserable Diary and b) yes,
The Miserable Diaries' very own website – the address is in my profile - with thanks
to Thalia for the idea (and for being v. cool in general). Nothing there you won't find
here, apart from a few graphics, but it's much prettier. And pink.
Thanks muchly as always. You guys rock. :o)
This Miserable Diary Belongs To: Feuilly
September 14th, 1827
These bloody students on our streets, here they come slumming once again; our Eponine would kiss their – oh arse, wrong line.
September 15th, 1827
Accosted during tea break by dashing young blond revolutionary blatantly bunking off school trying to rope unusually gullible martyr-types into overthrowing government. Have long suspected Paris students of being lazy bunch of hedonistic wasters who think they can get out of taking Finals by dying heroically on barricade and absolutely will not fall for it. Nope nope nope.
Five minutes later
Wouldn't mind getting into his pants though.
Five minutes later
I am so there.
September 21st, 1827
Went to Café Musain to meet other members of so-called Friends of the ABC. Rather surprised to discover university students only know first three letters of alphabet. Evidently haven't missed much in education department.
January 3rd, 1828
Voiced concern re: ignorance of rest of alphabet to group. Everyone agog, some even aghast. Apparently is pun on…something.
March 21st 1828
Courfeyrac still giggling most immaturely at me over alphabet comment. Will be sticking fans where sun doesn't shine if he's not v. careful.
April 30th, 1828
Courfeyrac's new friend Marius got ABC reference, despite being far from fruitiest flapjack in fridge. Pointed this out to Combeferre who said my alliteration was really quite impressive for someone who hadn't been to school.
May 3rd, 1829
On self-improvement kick - jogged to Musain this evening listening to Teach Yourself Latin cassette on headphones. Tracksuit something of a talking point; Enjolras said I could at least wear a tricolour one, Grantaire asked Enjolras why he never wore Lycra, Enjolras said kinky underwear simply a game for rich young boys to play.
Could swear I caught Combeferre blushing guiltily at that. V. suspicious.
May 6th, 1829
Combeferre claims was merely blushing at Joly's tongue being rammed half-way down Bossuet's trachea. Admittedly, can quite see his point.
February 15th, 1830
According to Courfeyrac, cannot expect to be taken seriously in trainers unless Reebok ones. Called him lard-arsed tax-dodging layabout and said some of us actually had to work for a living rather than sponging astronomical student loan off swells who run this show. Then went into rant about Poland, just because.
Courfeyrac said I, like, so had issues. Girlfriend.
August 18th, 1831
Talked into creative writing classes by Prouvaire as replacement for university education. Was naturally v. excited on hearing about possibility of writing fan fiction till Combeferre said no, not my sort of fans, and he doubted I'd have any of the other variety.
Will be sticking fans where sun doesn't shine if he isn't v. careful too.
February 3rd, 1832
Have been doing Pilates as part of Self-Improvement Thing. Enjolras v. huffy when told about this and said if anyone was going to do Pylades round here it was him. Rather lamenting lack of Classics knowledge, as Courfeyrac literally wet himself laughing.
June 3rd, 1832
At Rue de Bac they're straining at the leash, apparently. Sounds v. kinky - will ask Combeferre to elaborate.
June 5th, 1832
Marius rumoured to have forgotten to get out of bed for insurrection. At least proves Courfeyrac not sleeping with him.
Although, no sign of Joly, Bossuet or Grantaire either…
Oooh. Have v. disturbing mental image now.
Enjolras repeatedly shouting "Each man to his duty and don't be afraid!" while rearranging his hair in Mère Hucheloup's mirror.
Have no idea why he got it feathered – does not flatter his jawline at all.
Would still do him, though, obviously.
Prouvaire's sonnet v. crap. Told him rhyme scheme quite transparently incorrect only to receive tearful squeaking reprove that "it's bloody Petrarchan, you illiterate fan-waving Pole-obsessed working-class guttersnipe".
Do not think location of where I will be sticking fan even needs mentioning.
V. early, June 6th, 1832
Spent last two hours engraving "Jean Prouvaire is a big gay bear" on wall of house facing Corinth. Told to cross it out and write something more patriotic by Enjolras in big marble-lover-of-liberty huff. Went for "Feuilly woz ere – go Poland" instead. Feel v. saintly.
Been shot. Bastards. Enjolras said he'd never have let me get in his pants anyway – we were Poles apart. Ha bloody ha.
Unfortunately, cannot this time threaten to stick fan where sun doesn't shine, as sun does actually shine out of his arse.