The Secret Diary of Jeremy Clarkson Aged 13.75yrs (Day 2)

September 10th


The headmaster drives a Maxi, a car so far removed from logic and cool that it must have been designed by a strange sexless being with no driving license, which inhabits a windowless cave somewhere near The Earths core. It’s much like a dismembered lobster; it is slow, ugly and it rattles a lot! How this man expects us to obey him and be frightened when we’re sent to his office is a complete mystery to me. When he rolls into the car park in the morning it’s like watching Hitler arriving at Brandenburg Gate on a three legged donkey … with a cold … and a bad leg!

I’m starting to become obsessed by cars by the way, I have a feeling this may interfere with my chances of getting laid any time soon.

They have girls at the comprehensive, and I have appointed myself official reviewer of totty. This week we’ll test driving Veronica Scott, a sporty little number from Humberside. On the face of it, she’s about as approachable as a rabid lion, better looking than a E-Type Jag made from Marylin Monroe’s thighs, and keeps company with a group of crop-haired cyborgs. Seven blokes who share one golf-ball sized brain between them. Sadly I can’t comment on her interior, but she corners like a dream and the minute she saw me coming she outmaneuvered me somewhere near the library and I haven’t seen her since. A must have machine … she’s on to-get turned down by list.

Goodnight book!