My Madder Fatter Diary

by Rae Earl

  When I write it I feel a bit better because when I read it back it sounds completely mad doesn’t it?

  Tuesday 23.4.91

  11.02 p.m.

  NIGHTMARE.

  Got a majorly shit job. It’s packing cat food on a gangmaster system. Our team get paid by piece. I’ve got to get up at 6.15 a.m. tomorrow to be picked up by a minibus to put bloody lids on gourmet cat food. Fuck posh cats. White is happy with Whiskas and she’s fussy. Why aren’t they?!

  Wednesday 24.4.91

  8.06 p.m.

  Woke up at 6 a.m. We all had to pile onto this minibus that was just groaning with misery. People grunted at me like Haddock in a bad mood. A chorus of Haddocks but not as good looking or as lovely. We eventually got to this dreadful place in the Fens at 8.30 a.m.

  They showed me the work. You stand round a table and put lids on cat food as quickly as you can. There’s no radio on and you do it for about 8 hours. Not even I can have sex fantasies to get me through 8 hours of lids on cat food. Anyway, then they decided they didn’t want me. CHEERS! YES!!!! The gangmaster drove me back from somewhere dreadful near Wisbech and said ‘Don’t worry, duck – I’ll sort you out something next week.’ No please don’t. I didn’t say that but no – please don’t. Not ever.

  Monday 29.4.91

  9.35 p.m.

  Tonight David Icke who used to be the Sports presenter on BBC Breakfast and the most normal person in the world went on Wogan and started going on about all sorts of mad shit. That he was the Son of God, that evil was in control and that there was going to be loads of natural disasters.

  Now people were laughing and it was funny because he used to read the football results but seriously I was saying stuff TOTALLY less weird than that when I was put in a psychiatric ward and I wasn’t wearing a turquoise tracksuit either.

  The point is – who is mad and who isn’t? And do you get to avoid shrinks and psychiatric wards if you’ve worked with Selina Scott and Frank Bough?!

  Tuesday 30.4.91

  7.23 a.m.

  Just asked Mum if I’ve ever been more mad than David Icke. She just got cross and said ‘Rachel – forget David Icke and move on.’

  Usual answer with added David Icke. The thing is I think I am still madder than David Icke. I just hide it better.

  I am dreading telling the bloke I don’t want a job when he rings. I can’t work with cat food though. It’s a sick thought.

  6.23 p.m.

  He STILL hasn’t rung. LONG may that continue!

  Wednesday 1.5.91

  11.42 a.m.

  The posh cat lid gangmaster bloke rang. I pretended I couldn’t hear him. Then I had to ring back. His wife answered and I told her that I didn’t want the job because ‘I’d sorted something out else’. I haven’t. I hope they don’t tell the Jobcentre. They won’t. They are too busy making Tiddles and his upper-class feline mates happy.

  7.24 p.m.

  Everybody is still talking about David Icke. Mum says now whenever something goes wrong at Morrisons people say ‘Oh David Icke was right!’ I said ‘What if he’s ill though like I was ill?’ Mum said ‘ill people don’t go on Wogan. It was attention seeking.’

  How do we actually know that ill people don’t go on Wogan?

  Thursday 2.5.91

  10.32 a.m.

  Mum has just been told that Adnan is allowed to stay in the U.K. FOREVER. He is coming back NEXT week. She’s really pleased and I’m thrilled because she’s completely forgotten about the cat lid job!

  5.45 p.m.

  I’m going to be in Gooseberry Land again though. At least you can escape Gooseberry Land. Cat Lid Land was like a prison. Mum does go all different when Adnan comes though. All luvvy duvvy and slightly goo-horrific.

  Friday 3.5.91

  4.32 p.m.

  How do you keep your personality but be someone’s girlfriend/wife?

  Sorry this diary is full of random thoughts and David Icke at the moment.

  Saturday 4.5.91

  11.58 p.m.

  A TOTAL injustice and a TOTAL fiasco at Eurovision tonight. I honestly might never watch it again. The French had this beautiful sort of Arabic song – which is probably how Adnan should sound like if he could sing. The Swedes just had this uptempo mess which sounded like something Sinitta would sing. It was a tie but because of some stupid rule the Swedish Sinitta won. Honestly if I was France now I would invade Sweden. The Italian hosts were all over the shop, our song was UTTER bollocks. Trying to be ‘Feed the World’ with a blonde in a short skirt. We used to be GOOD at this??!! What has gone wrong. Even Terry Wogan was getting annoyed – and he was patient with David Icke!

  Tuesday 7.5.91

  7.13 p.m.

  When I haven’t been writing it’s like – it’s a numbness. I don’t feel anything. Or there’s a panic. Or I just don’t want to talk.

  Today I just want to tell you that the diet is going really well. My jeans are hanging off me. I don’t feel sexy yet though. I don’t look sexy either but there’s definitely less of me. A bit less mess.

  Wednesday 8.5.91

  5.14 p.m.

  I’ve applied to be on Hereward Radio’s Norwich and Peterborough Cash Counter Quiz. Even Mum says it’s worth a go. I’d be on the radio everyday for a week and I could win up to £200. It would help me pay for Poland for a start.

  Thursday 9.5.91

  9.13 p.m.

  Adnan is back. Great for Mum but sadly I couldn’t go mad to ‘Last Train to Transcentral’ by The KLF as he was watching Top of the Pops too. Still, his version of Cher’s ‘The Shoop Shoop Song’ was an interesting listen.

  Friday 10.5.91

  6.13 p.m.

  I have found the cartoon ‘Citizen Sid’ in one of the adverts in the Stamford Citizen now for over a year. I have entered the competition every week. I HAVE NEVER WON. It’s only to win a fiver but that’s not the point. I am the unluckiest person in the world ever.

  Saturday 11.5.91

  11.46 p.m.

  You know that door in the Vaults marked ‘Private’ near the toilet opposite the kitchen? It’s just a cupboard full of lemons.

  That’s how interesting my Saturday night was.

  Monday 13.5.91

  12.11 p.m.

  I threw Haddock’s plant in the cupboard. I can’t look at it anymore.

  It’s time to lose some emotional weight as well as some real weight.

  Of course if I had real balls I’d put it in the bin completely but . . . that’s letting go of something I just can’t let go of yet.

  What am I thinking though? No letters. No phone calls (he could get my number if he really wanted it) and when he does come here we go back a year to the grunting. And still I’m holding on. Praying. Wishing. Hoping. Checking things. But I’d be doing that anyway about something. Don’t think you’re that special Haddock. You’re not.

  Well you are but not . . . All that started before you. It all started . . . I can’t remember it not being part of life. Perhaps I was just born with it.

  Tuesday 14.5.91

  12.11 p.m.

  I got a letter from Mort today. She’s having a fantastic time. It cheered me up immensely because she’s having a good laugh (unselfishly) and she’s nearly home (completely selfishly).

  I’m lonely. I’ve felt lonely before at the end of parties and stuff when everyone is tonguing everyone else but this is different. This is total loneliness. It’s like being stranded underneath your duvet. I’m a bit thinner but still huge. I thought with every pound I lost I’d lose something bad in my head I suppose. That was . . . how much fat is in my head anyway? How much ugly is in my head? If they made me into Kylie tomorrow would I still stick matches in my arms because I thought I looked terrible and was an awful person? I’d look like a right twat on Top of the Pops with burn marks up my arms. Explain that one to Smash Hits – ‘I had a nasty cooker accident.’

  I’d be fooling nobody.

  Am I fooling anyone anyway? Does everyone realise I’m sad but
just not know what to do so it’s easier to stay away or pretend it’s not happening or are they really that thick?

  Sod it all – Gary Clail of On-U Sound System – ‘Human Nature’. That’s a great song and he said in Smash Hits that he lost loads of weight. It can be done. You can lose the pounds but not your soul. I don’t want to be a floozy who laughs at shit jokes.

  Friday 17.5.91

  11.09 a.m.

  I JUST GOT A CALL FROM PAUL COYTE – breakfast presenter at Hereward Radio. I’M ON THE CASH COUNTER QUIZ ALL NEXT WEEK!! I thought he was joking at first but it’s happening! I’m really nervous but really excited. I could win so much money. My heart was pumping like mad. I can’t wait to tell Mum. By the end of next week in the Greater Peterborough area I will be bloody famous thank you.

  12.08 p.m.

  I just told Adnan about the Cash Counter quiz. He didn’t really get it but he offered to make me a cheese toastie. I was tempted but Rosemary Conley basically says cheese is the anti-Christ unless it’s part of a Lean Cuisine beef lasagne topping.

  7.12 p.m.

  Mum cannot quite believe it about the Cash Counter quiz. She is really impressed. I told her I was quite nervous. She said ‘Rachel – you were made for this. It’s general knowledge and talking crap – right up your street.’ Then she winked. For her that’s a massive compliment.

  Sunday 19.5.91

  11.51 p.m.

  Can’t sleep for nerves. Thousands of people listen to Hereward Radio. Well all of Morrisons does.

  Monday 20.5.91

  5.32 a.m.

  I’m not on for another hour but I can’t sleep. I can’t eat before I go on. I don’t want to do a burpy voice thing on air.

  8.22 a.m.

  That went REALLY well. Even Mum said I was good! Paul Coyte asked me what the money was for. I said going to Poland and then we had a chat about that and then I GOT ALL THE QUESTIONS right.

  Anyway I’ve got to go to Peterborough tomorrow to get my passport photos done for Poland. So it’s down to Woolies today. Yes – I’m dreading it. Why can’t I still fly on my mum’s passport? That’s because you are 19 Rae. You’re an adult. It’s not how I thought it would be. It’s arse.

  7.55 p.m.

  Shit. I’m still huge. Massive. I look 40 not 19. I wouldn’t shag me. MASSIVE face. 27 chins and I’ve been on a diet for how long? How much longer?!

  Tuesday 21.5.91

  8.55 p.m.

  Got all the questions right again! AND Mum said I was bright and not boring like most of the people who go on there. It was ‘Apples, Staples or Nipples’ today. You had to guess whether the thing Paul Coyte said had ‘apples, staples or nipples’. He said ‘Playboy’ which could have both but I went with staples as if I said nipples on air Mum would say I was ‘lowering the tone’.

  7.05 p.m.

  Went to Peterborough to get my passport sorted. I need proof of travel to get one in one day so when me and Mort go to the meeting in London about Poland I’ll have to get something then. It’s a pain in the arse BUT as I was coming across the bridge from the railway station into Queensgate I think I saw Paul Coyte leaving Hereward! I’ll ask him tomorrow. He’s sort of like a celebrity friend now.

  Wednesday 22.5.91

  9.01 p.m.

  I think I’m getting even better at this radio thing. Just before we went live to air today I said to Paul Coyte I think I saw you yesterday. He said let’s talk about that on air. So he said ‘So you think you saw me yesterday’ and I said ‘Yeah – you were totally denim clad and looked a bit like Shakin’ Stevens.’ He said ‘Yes – that was me’ and really laughed. That was good. What was less good is that I got my first question wrong. He said ‘How many eyes does the Cyclops have?’ and I said ‘3.’ Of course it’s 1. Never mind. I’m still earning loads for basically doing nothing.

  I think I really like radio! HA HA HA!

  Thursday 23.5.91

  8.54 a.m.

  We had a good laugh on the radio again today. It whizzes by when you’re on. Mum’s friend Sadie told her she thought I was a natural. I’ve always loved radio. I had my own radio station in my bedroom when I was 11 and made tapes with jingles and everything. I’ve always wanted to be a radio presenter. I’ve shown years of dedication. I hope this has made Mum wake up that my ambitions are completely realistic and that I can do STUFF.

  Friday 24.5.91

  9.13 a.m.

  Last day on Hereward FM but it was fantastic. Paul Coyte introduced me by saying ’She’s caused a storm! People have been saying to me – who is that girl you’ve got on this week? She’s really good.’ Anyway I ended up winning £178 which will very nearly pay completely for Poland.

  God I love Paul Coyte – he was such a love and so nice. He really put me at ease and he said hello to loads of people at the end – mainly because he hates it when people say ‘Hello to anyone who knows me.’ Well that is a stupid bloody phrase.

  Saturday 25.5.91

  10.35 a.m.

  I have decided radio is definitely for me –

  1) It seems to suit people who are loud and weird.

  2) I genuinely think I could be better than Jakki Brambles.

  3) I can basically tell you every highest chart position and the lyrics of every song of the past 30 years. Even the stuff in French like ‘Joe Le Taxi’ by Vanessa Paradis.

  4) NO-ONE CAN SEE YOU on radio.

  5) I can DEFINITELY present Top of the Pops better than Anthea Turner.

  Sunday 26.5.91

  7.42 p.m.

  I sat down with Mum today and said ‘Do I need to go to university if I really know what I want to do?’ Mum said ‘Look Rach – getting a degree gives you something to fall back on for the rest of your life and doesn’t Hull have its own student radio station? You can get good there and then go on Radio 1.’

  She’s right. I do need a degree. I think I was just trying to chicken out of moving again. I’m scared. I can’t really do Radio 1 from Stamford either though can I?

  9.13 p.m.

  Just realised Mum didn’t freak out when I said I wasn’t sure about university. I MUST have been good at the radio.

  Friday 31.5.91

  11.10 a.m.

  BLOODY HELL!! POSTCARD FROM HADDOCK!!

  Dear Rae,

  Hear you are the new Simon Bates. If you get rich can I have a new moped please?

  See you in the summer. Love Haddock X

  It’s wonderful, it’s perfect but it’s also torture because I’ve seen the passport photos. I’m still not in his league. I’m still not pretty enough. I’m still the lump. The lump that doesn’t know how to wear a dress, or to be touched or . . . Oh I’m just not ready. Perhaps I AM the problem. I am thought of. I am loved but I piss it all away because I’m . . . Oh you know it all. You’ve heard it all. It’s ME. I’M THE PROBLEM and I’m not putting it all down again because YOU know it and I know it.

  Saturday 1.6.91

  6.38 p.m.

  I’m down again. In fact I’m pancake flat. It’s the anticlimax I suppose. The massive up of the radio, the amazing postcard from Haddock out of the blue. All the hope and possibility and now life returns to normal and reality. The lack of money. The dreadful passport photo. I could take it again I suppose but would it be any better? The fear of going to Poland and university. The fear of NOT going to Poland and university. Oh . . . SODDING THE WORST NUMBER ONE EVER. Color Me Badd’s ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’. If bloody Haddock offered to sex me up I would tell him to bollocks. What a pile of TOTAL EXCREMENT and one of them has a perm. SORT IT OUT.

  Sunday 2.6.91

  6.54 p.m.

  The phone rang about 11.55 a.m. This really weird voice said ‘Will you accept this reverse charge call from Cape Town’ or something! MORT!! OF COURSE I said ‘YES!’ She is having a BRILLIANT time, she had her passport nicked but it’s all sorted! She was telling me about all the blokes she has met, all the things she has seen – it sounds amazing BUT she still sounds like my Mort. I’m so relieved becau
se I thought all this foreign stuff could change things between us. It hasn’t though. We gassed on for ages. This may end up being a bit of a problem because God knows how much a reverse charge call from South Africa costs. Quite a bit I imagine. It’s not fair though because Adnan is allowed to occasionally ring his family in Morocco to ask them quick questions and Mort is MY family. She’s like a sister to me.

  Mum will go mad when she sees the bill. Hopefully I’ll be in Poland! Lech Walesa will protect me from the wrath of Mum. He stood up to communist nutters – but can he stand up to her? Is my mum scarier than Stalin when she goes mad? No. Not now I’m 19. She has limited powers. What’s the worst she can do? Throw away my Smurfs? I can live without Papa Smurf now. I can even live without the one that’s a chimney sweep and has its own little brush. These are the things of childhood. I am beyond them.

  She could sell my records but she knows I would genuinely never talk to her again. My vinyl – it’s part of me. I might still hide it though.

  I’m feeling . . . better. Up. I might go into Boots and see how much I’ve lost. I’ll wait till it’s quiet though.

  Actually I love my Smurfs too and my Britains model stable and all my horses. I better hide everything.

  Thursday 13.6.91

  10.30 p.m.

  Just as the thoughts get better and I feel more happy, optimistic – just a few sentences can send me hurtling back. I always think my thoughts are gone but they are just lying dormant.

  Got a phone call at 9 p.m. It was Battered Sausage. He said come to Exeter and the End of the Year Ball thing. My initial response – excitement, butterflies but after the euphoria comes the inevitable practicalities.

  1) Absolutely NO money. Barclays WANK have taken my Connect Card off me. This is just because I never put my student grant in there (because I never got it!) AND because I went £54 overdrawn. Oh big deal. They treated me like I was a criminal. No. John DeLorean. Denis Nielsen. THEY are criminals. Barclays WANK need to get some perspective. It’s FIFTY FOUR QUID not five million. I rang Dad and he paid it off. He wasn’t happy about it – he said ‘You should bank with the Midland anyway.’ Thanks for that Dad. When I actually ever get some money I may consider it.