Synopsis
This is the fictional diary of a nobody. The 

'Nobody' in question is Charles Pooter, a clerk 

living in Holloway, of prison fame. He worked in 

a office in the city. He is married to Carrie, 

and has a son, Lupin. Lupin Pooter sounds like 

the medical name for a heavy drinkers boko to 

me. Although I have looked it up in Grays and of 

course it isn't there but on page....... I will 

come back to Lupin later.

Charles is vain, self-important, gullible, at 

the constant mercy of insolent tradesmen and 

impudent junior clerks at work who are obviously 

much more clever than he is. Even worse, he gets 

sent insulting Christmas cards. Above all, he 

has a deplorable taste in excruciating jokes and 

puns. At a party, he says he hopes it won't be 

long before he meets Mr Short. His more tiresome 

acquaintances and neighbours include a Mr 

Gowing, who always seems to be coming, and a Mr 

Cumming - who is always going. Gowing not only 

comes, but is also a hooligan given to chucking 

food around at the supper table. Mr Pooter tries 

to remonstrate with him, only to be told that 

it's no good his trying to look indignant, with 

his hair full of parsley.

He gets to hear about how good enamel paint is, 

and buys a tin of red, and paints their flower 

pots, coal scuttle (for those young 'uns out 

there, it's where posh people kept their coal.) 

and the backs of their set of Shakespeare, as 

the bindings have almost worn out. Then he 

paints the bath (where my family kept the coal). 

Some days later he feels unwell, and decides the 

answer is to have a hot bath. After soaking 

himself for some time, he takes his hand out of 

the water and finds his hand bleeding badly. Has 

he ruptured an artery, and is he about to meet 

his maker? Nope the bloomin paint ain't dried!

Lupin (what a blooming silly name, blooming? Get 

it?) hates being seen with his old man who wears 

strange suits. Dad buys his clobber in the 

evening, when he can only choose his suiting by 

gaslight, and discovers the next day how 

terrible they suddenly look. Lupin seems always 

to be making the wrong choices with women. He is 

also out of work a lot.

Somebody wrote If you can remember that far 

back, or have caught the occasional recent 

repeat on TV, you might draw parallels between 

Charles Pooter and Eric Sykes. The latter used 

to star in as well as write the scripts for a 

late 60s and early 70s sitcom, as an amiable, 

slightly accident-prone fool continually worsted 

by his more clever twin sister Hattie Jacques and 

supercilious neighbour Charles Brown (Richard 

Wattis). Maybe Eric modelled himself in part on 

the oh-so-ordinary but likeable Charles Pooter.