Adrian Mole na pragu zrelosti

Last night I took a good, hard look in the mirror. I've always wanted to appear smart, but at twenty years and three months old I have to admit that I look like a man who hasn't heard of Jung or Updike. Adrian Mole is a grown man. At least that's what his passport says. But he still lives with his parents, comforts himself with his shabby, shaggy bunny Pinky, works as a petty clerk for the Ministry of the Environment and is pining for the love of his life, Pandora, so maturity is not quite what he imagined. Still, without the arrows and bullets of violent modern life, what could an intellectual poet possibly write about...