Will someone ever forge my diaries?

Fame.  Or notoriety.  Will I ever achieve either?

Probably not.  I’ll probably only ever be a legend in my own bathtime.  (I have been on TV three times, but that’s another story.  Andy Warhol and his Fifteen Minutes of Fame.)

Whenever I think of diaries, I play the word association game and think of:

  • Samuel Pepys (“And so to bed.”  He also wrote on Friday 9 October 1663, “I could neither have a natural stool nor break wind…”)
  • Adrian Mole (“Swedish leather exports.”)
  • Anne Frank (I visited her house in Amsterdam.  Well worth a visit.)
  • The forged Hitler diaries.

Now, this is all terribly, absolutely, typical British toilet humour, but whenever I think of the Hitler diaries, I recall Alexei Sayle on TV, saying in a stage German accent:

Ze teplets I heff bin taking for heartburn have been givink me sahch terrible flatulence.

(“The tablets I have been taking for heartburn have been giving me such terrible flatulence.”)

It’s been a quiet evening on the TV, so I decided to google the original German text.


“Die ständigen Anstrengungen der letzten Wochen verursachen mir Blähungen, und Eva sagt, ich habe Mundgeruch.”

A slight variant, probably adapted for TV.





Have a flatulence-free day, won’t you!


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