The Moaning of Life

Richard Crossman, Anne Frank, Adrian Mole and Derek Barnsley - which is the odd one out?
Yes, that's right, it's Anne Frank - she's the only girl. Looked at another way, however, it could be Derek Barnsley.
I went to school with Derek. He was a twat. No other word so completely encapsulates the gelatinous mound of organic matter which was Derek. The one thing I remember about him was that he kept a diary. It always fascinated me. Why should a total no-mark who never did anything, was of no use to anyone and who thought Saturday Swapshop was "exciting" keep a diary?
It's only as I've got older that I've come round to Dekker's way of thinking. Aliens beaming down to earth in the year 3287 are not really going to get a rounded idea of what life was like on earth before the humans turned into bug-eyed, mud-dwelling locusts (it's coming, trust me) by reading Dick's, Annie's or Adrian's ramblings, are they? Maybe they should flick through Posh and Beck's diaries to get clued up? Je ne pense pas! How about Simon Cowell's piercing insights into the way the world works? Pass the crossbow, Madge.
No, having clocked up more than two score years, I realise Derek was right - even if he didn't know it. He managed to amount to absolutely nothing, a total zero, of no use other than as a draft excluder, in just 13 years. It has taken me longer, but I'm there at last.....and why shouldn't we tell it like it is. Our drivel has to be more reliable than the luminaries. After all, life is not about jet-skiiing, Manhatten parties and luxury travel. Life is about holes in your socks, damp patches in light-coloured trousers, acheing knees and two-for-one offers in Lidl.
To that end, I am going to give those Crinoids from the Planet Thwarg (they're coming, trust me) a real insight into life in England.
The Chronicles of Banalia begin here......