Poor, poor Combeferre; I don't know why I've made him quite so, well, pervy. You may blame the dubious influence of my friends, the pressure of Finals, and the idea that it's always the ones you least suspect. ;o) (I love him really, honestly I do…)

Thanks again for the continued support – I'd have given up looooooooooong ago without it, and it makes me feel slightly less insane for writing this sort of drivel…! Hope you like this one.

This Miserable Diary Belongs To: Combeferre

September 14th, 1827
University of Paris bit of a let-down on the whole. Tried to make friends by challenging people to game of Scrabble but just got called geeky four-eyed nerdy git. Consequently have spent all of Freshers Week in room drawing silkworm moths from memory.

September 15th, 1827
Have met distressingly attractive young blond revolutionary full of well-intentioned but obviously misplaced republican ardour, since everyone here thinks insurrection simply a game for rich young boys to play.

Incidentally, so is croquet. And rugby. And the Eton Wall Game. Was never very good at any of them – so much for private education.

Later
Am genius. Blond revolutionary, although terribly pretty, evidently none too bright, so am entertaining possibility of lucrative sideline doing his homework for him in return for, ahem, favours. Heh.

May 28th, 1828
Have met Courfeyrac's friend Marius, nice young lawyer blatantly several frogs' legs short of picnic. Therefore assuming his asking Enjolras whether beyond the barricade there was a world of PVC is the result of harmless stupidity rather than penchant for wearing cling-film.

Bummer.

June 13th, 1829
Prouvaire a bit panicky about possibility of dying already and asked me to drink with him to days gone by. Sadly turned out to be quite literal and not a euphemism for anything more interesting. Getting fed up of being requisite shoulder to cry on (not least because this phrase ends on a preposition and is therefore grammatically incorrect) and wonder if others regard me as camp counsellor of sorts.

Pointed this out to Courfeyrac who just said Prouvaire would be even camper counsellor.

September 3rd, 1830
Have been stood up by Enjolras who claims he is washing hair. Huh. Am agog, may progress to aghast if situation does not improve.

Later
Had dramatic role-reversal and cried on Feuilly's shoulder about Enjolras hair-washing debacle so he offered to sleep with me instead. V. good of him, really, but have done sod all for weeks what with doing Enjolras' homework, therefore terribly important that I get this essay finished first.

September 4th, 1830
Received sharp reprimand from professor re: essay. Should not really be surprised, as was only three sentences long.

June 5th, 1831
Courfeyrac and Marius both involved in scandalous police call-out in last few days. Dying to get involved as policeman, despite being evidently quite insane with all manner of issues regarding snuff, sideburns and ex-convicts from Toulon, almost certainly possesses handcuffs. Somewhat doubt they are pink and fluffy but beggars cannot be choosers so to speak.

June 6th, 1831
Am genius. Only have to pretend to be now-saintly ex-bishop-burgling convict from Toulon and snuff-snorting policeman will be proverbial putty in my hands.

June 8th, 1831
Have procured white wig and halo, now working on troubled "he's a convict from the chain gang, he's been ten years on the run" expression.

Am really going to enjoy getting skin branded. Ooooh.

June 14th, 1831
Burst into Café Musain shouting "Who am I?", but all just blinked and muttered something that sounded like "geeky four-eyed nerdy git". Could have at least acted agog and/or aghast.

June 3rd, 1832
Worried insurrection may actually happen now. Less miffed by almost certain death than by obligation to call everyone "citizen" instead of "shit-for-brains".

June 5th, 1832
Marius refusing to join in with funeral as engaged in terrific sulking fit. Now not the time for such ridiculously juvenile behaviour. Will recommend Enjolras gives him thorough glaring if he survives.

Later
Have captured snuff-snorting policeman and tied him to post. V. jealous. Going to sulk till Enjolras gives in and ties me up too.

Later still
Still sulking.

Even later
Still sulking.

Later
Think being spanked with carbine might be more fun than being tied up anyway. Revolution will have to do without its logic and its philosophy for a while.

As an aside, haven't seen Prouvaire for ages. Worried Courfeyrac might have tied his shoelaces together. Hope he hasn't ended up in enemy clutches about to be executed by firing squad or anything like that.

Five minutes later
Oops. Well, if you can't work out which side of barricade you're supposed to be on, you've got it coming to you, really.

June 6th, 1832
All starting to look slightly grim now. Tried to boost morale by pointing out that ninety-two point six per cent of barricade deaths occur as direct result of insurgents being too busy singing about wine of friendship not running dry to notice enemy cannonball going straight for back of head.

Everyone still alive – in perfect unison and exactly as in a musical – turned round and yelled "Smartarse!".

Later

Screw all this - off to corrupt young Pontmercy with all manner of heinously deviant practices that would almost certainly get me arrested if only policeman in France hadn't been shot ages ago.

The good must be innocent, my arse.