It was Rosie.
“Sven has just cooked me a Viking snack.”
“What is it?”
“Deep-fried Mars bar. I could paddle for miles now and still do a spot of raping and pillaging at the end of it.”
Just to check that my lecture on sophisticosity had got through to the ace gang I said, “What are you wearing tonight? There is no beard involved, is there?”
Rosie laughed, but not in a reassuring way.
“Toodle pip, see you at seven thirty.”
6:00 p.m.
Mum and Dad and Bibbs and Uncle Eddie have popped out to get a pizza in the loonmobile. I’ve just heard the roar of its massive quarter-horsepower engine phut phut off into the distance.
Before they went, I could hear Mum having a go at Dad in the driveway just under my window. She is deffo at No. 8, the quarter humpty (evils), on the Having the Hump Scale. Bordering on No. 9, the half humpty dumpty (evils and withdrawal of all snacks). This started because he didn’t open the car door for her. She said, “Jim across the road has lovely manners—he opens doors for me.”
Dad said, “Come on, love, you’re a big woman, a very big woman. You can manage a little door. You could open it easily with one of your nungas.”
I didn’t hear the rest of it, but it was mostly Mum shouting and Libby yelling, “Bum bum, arsey ARSEEEEEEEY!”
Lovely.
7:15 p.m.
Got Mum’s shoes, although they are not what you would call comfortable. They are what you would call agonizing.
I’ll wear my ballet pumps till I get there.
Oh, I am so nervy. I nearly stuck the mascara brush up my nose. Oh God, I may be turning into Ellen. She’s only phoned me eight times to tell me that she is soooo excited about seeing Declan. I think that is what she said. Or something. What do you think? Or something? Shut up!!!!!!
met the ace gang at hennes
My worst fears are realized. Rosie is wearing a lurex catsuit….
She saw me looking and said, “Yes, it’s groovy, isn’t it?”
As we walked along, I said, “Please tell me that Sven has not got a matching catsuit.”
She just winked at me.
Oh no, I bet he has.
And I bet it is snug.
Round the trouser snake area.
Oh noooooooo.
As we walked, I gave the gang the pep talk.
“Don’t forget the plan. The key note here is nicenosity and glaciosity. You have to be around me at all times, making me look vair popular…. Smiling is good, but no ad hoc, full-on snorting and capering sort of laughing.”
sugar club
9:00 p.m.
We’re going in.
It’s an amazing place. It’s got a sort of “chill out” room. I know that because it says so on a notice. Ellen was going, “Is it like…if when…you know, you’re hot or something and…”
Ellen should really live in that room. She is so dithery at seeing her “boyfriend” that she can hardly keep her head on.
in the tarts’ wardrobe
I said, “I’ve got this new stay-on lipstick so even if someone had a wire brush, they couldn’t get it off.”
Rosie said, “Oh yeah, you say that but you should get Sven to test it. If anyone is a human wire brush, it’s him. The gorgeous big brute.”
I said, “Where is the gorgeous big brute?”
Rosie said, “With the lads. They are having a pre-club game of footie in the park.”
It’s dark.
Why?
ten minutes later
OK, big breaths (yeth, I thertainly have got big breaths).
I’ve got my stilettos on. I am full to the tippy-topmost of sophisticosity and je ne sais quoi.
Except in the knicker department, which has a touch of the jelloid about it.
What if Masimo has had second thoughts and he just comes over and says, “Face it, love, you’re dumped”? Although he of course would say “dump-io-ed.”
10:00 p.m.
The Blunderboys came lurgying in. Mark Big Gob had his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and some tiny fool hanging off his arm. His mouth is practically bigger than she is. As he passed by us, he said, “There’s a party in my trousers and you’re all invited.”
And the Blunderers were going, “Oh yeah. Cool.”
And laughing like constipated hyenas.
Prats.
10:30 p.m.
Oooh, this is agony, this hanging around pretending not to be hanging around. Where is he?
Then I saw him. He came out of the backstage area and he was wearing an electric blue suit with a blue shirt. Blimey, he looked so cool. And he’s so sort of blokey. He’s got a bit of designer stubble and his hair is a bit longer.
Every bit of me is separately jelloid. Now I know how Slim feels when all her chins are moving in a different rhythm.
He was talking to a group of St. Pat’s boys and then two tarts I vaguely knew from St. Mary’s came up, thrusting themselves at him. And giggling, like hens that had eaten too many worms and were having a worm rush. If you know what I mean and I think you do.
Mabs said, “You’d better move about a bit, Gee, otherwise he won’t know you’re here.”
Jools said, “Look, there’s a spare table. Let’s go and sit down at it and then he will see us walking across.”
Good point well made.
We started to walk over to the table.
Bloody hell, Mum’s shoes were high. I’d better walk slowly. Oh, and do the flicky hair, hip to the right, hip to the left thing that boys are supposed to like. I don’t know why they like girls who look like they have got false hips, but there you are. The whole bloody thing is a mystery.
two minutes later
It is amazing, though, boys really do like it. At last I reached the table and put my hand on it to steady myself. I’m exhausted. I may have to have a little lie down under the table and…
“Ciao, Georgia.”
I looked up and there he was. Looking at me with those dreamy eyes. They looked amazingly yellow. It must be the blue suit, but they were sort of like Angus’s eyes. Not insane, clearly, but the color was the same. And his skin is sort of olive, and his mouth, well, blimey is all I can say.
thirty seconds later
So much for our plan of light sophisticated talk…the ace gang were WUBBISH. They were just giggling and twittering on.
“Ooohhh, look at your nice shirt…”
“Oooh, hahaha.”
“Ooohhh, I like your hair long, it’s…Ooohhh.”
Etc. like a bunch of mad doves.
Masimo said to me, “Miss Georgia, maybe at the end of the gig, I could walk you home.”
Oh, thank God. He still liked me, at least a little bit.
I smiled at him (a contained smile, making sure that my nose didn’t spread all over my face). I just smiled enigmatically and kept tight control over my nostrils. I wanted to say something, but I had lost all control of my bits and pieces.
My brain felt quite literally like a bag of wet mice.
He came and stood close to me and touched my face. He said, “Tonight there is, how you say, the men for management…they are wanting to speak with me in the break. So, mi dispiace, I will not be having you for myself until later…. Sorry, cara…Molto regrettio.”
Then he kissed me softly on the hand and then behind the ear, and then two little kisses on my neck and then he looked me in the eyes—I was melting, I was melting—and put his mouth on mine. When he stopped, I came back to earth and saw the ace gang just looking at us. Masimo didn’t seem to notice them. He stroked my hair and said, “Cara,” and squeezed my bottom slightly as he left.
The gang were just silent after he had gone.
Then Rosie said, “Phwoooaar.”
Jools, Mabs and Hons went, “Whoooooo-ooaaaaaaaah.”
Jas said, “Cor.”
And Ellen said, “He…that was…your ear…and er…so on.”
I had to si
t down quickly as the bottom part of me had turned into a jellyfish.
ten minutes later
Jas tried to pretend that she had only said “Cor” because she was finding her inner passion as Juliet. Oh yeah.
As Billy Shakespeare would have said, “Prithee, lackaday and also WHATEVERS!!!!!”
I couldn’t help saying to her, “Don’t forget, you chose Dave the Laugh not the Luuurve God that you have just said ‘Cor’ to.”
Jas went sensationally red.
“I knew this would happen. You said you hadn’t got the hump, but you had. And I knew you would get it. I do not have the big red bottom for either of them. Hunky is my one and only.”
I said, “Calm down, Jas. It’s only the hypothetical red botty that you have got.”
“I have not got the hypothetical red bottom. I haven’t got the red bottom at all.”
She has, though.
As the band were tuning up and messing about with their equipment…oo-er (leave it), I tried to keep the conversation light and frothy so that I could tinkle with laughter and Masimo could see me out of the corner of his eye.
I said to Jas, “Speaking of Rom and Jul, has Miss Wilson found a Rom yet? Why can’t we just have a bloke?”
Jas was glad to get back into boring rambling on about being a thespian. She said, “Miss Wilson says that in Shakespearean times there would be no women in the plays and so Juliet would have been played by a boy. And in our production, all the parts will be played by girls. She thinks it’s an interesting reversal.”
“Yes. But she is wrong. Anything she says is interesting is not. Think of the ‘making our own musical instruments’ fiasco. I had runner beans down my nick-nacks for weeks.”
Rosie said, “Nauseating P. Green would make a cracking Romeo. She’s got the glasses for it.”
Jas went very red (tee-hee) and said, “Nauseating P. Green is one of the townspeople.”
I said, “She could be all of the townspeople for all I care. The question is, who is going to be your boyfriend?”
Jas went even redder. She can never lie.
I said, “You KNOW, don’t you, Jazzy? You know who your boyfriend is going to be!!!! Come on, tell.”
She was getting redder and redder.
At that moment, Wet Lindsay and her silly “mates” came in. She went scampering over to the side of the stage and called Robbie to her. I don’t think he really wanted to go. He is, of course, only human. I feel really sorry for him.
Astonishingly Dim Monica is not well known for her fashion sense (the puffball skirt) but tonight she had outdone herself. Culottes are a bit of a risk, anyway, but especially if your legs are only half a meter long. And your botty is a bit loomy. In fact, ADM looked like my vati in his shorts.
Jas was looking at them and manically fiddling with her fringe and suddenly it dawned on me.
I said, “It’s not Astonishingly Dim Monica, is it? Oh, top!! Thank you, Baby Jesus!!!!!”
Jas was really red. She said, “No, don’t be stupid. Of course it’s not her!”
Then her eyes sort of swiveled to the stage.
Ohmygiddygodspajamas.
No.
We all said, “No!”
But yes. Wet Lindsay.
Jas said, “It was Miss Wilson’s idea.”
I said, “Well, that’s as may be, but you must tell her that you cannot do it. It is against the European Code of Human Rights.”
Jas said, “I did! I tried! I said, I said, I didn’t want to be Juliet in that case, but then she was going to tell Slim and…”
As she was dithering and rambling on, Wet Lindsay came over to our table and said, “Hi, Jas, great news about the play. I can only manage a few of the general rehearsals, but we ought to get together at mine for extras.”
Then, only pausing to give me the look of death, she octopussed off.
Jas was as red as I have ever seen her. And that is saying something.
Rosie said, “She wants you to go round to hers for ‘extras,’ if you know what I mean. And I think we all know what she means.”
Actually, it was quite funny in a way.
I said, “Oy, Jas, in the big snogging scene between Rom and Jul…what number do you think you will get up to with Wet Lindsay? Open-mouth kissing with tongues?”
Jas was getting the defensive hump.
“Look, stop being so stupid. It’s called acting—it’s not snogging. It’s only pretend snogging.”
I said, “That’s what you will say to Lindsay, but she won’t take no for an answer. If she wants to do Abschiedskuss with you, she will.”
Rosie leapt to her feet. “She might want to do AUF’S GANZE GEHEN!!”
And she started doing the flame dance around Jas. It was making me laugh a lot and not in a girlish, tinkling way. I was trying to pull myself together when Sven and the rest of the lads came in from their blind football.
ten minutes later
The Stiffs are playing a new one: “Tell Me About Yourself Sometime.” Robbie and Masimo are doing lead vocals. Wow, they both look cool. And one of them is my ex and one of them is mine mine miney mine mine. I am indeed the SEX KITTY of all England!!!!!
two minutes later
I’ll tell you for free who does not think I am a Sex Kitty. Dave the Laugh. I saw him at the bar laughing with some of his mates and he caught me looking at him. And he stopped laughing and just nodded his head. Like I was just someone he knew, but didn’t like that much. Then he turned his back on me and started talking and laughing again.
fifteen minutes later
I am sitting by myself because it’s a slow number and the gang are all smooching with their boyfriends. Dave is dancing with Emma. He does smoochy smooch for a bit and then every now and again does fast twisting to the floor and sort of Cossack dancing. He used to do that with me. Emma is really laughing, but she is not joining in. I would have joined in. Like in the old days.
I think I might go to the tarts’ wardrobe until the song’s over.
five minutes later
When I came back in, the band were playing the last number of the set. It’s called “Hold Me Back” and it’s really wild. One of the St. Pat’s boys I see quite a bit of at the footie and at gigs and so on came over. I think he’s called Chunky, but I can’t be sure. He is a bit chunky, but in a nice way. Anyway, he asked me to dance. I was going to say no, but then I thought I’m not the Virgin of Rheims. It’s only Dave I have to be cool about, so I said yes.
three minutes later
Oh no. Sven has started doing the conga.
I’m deffo not going to join in…
Oh, I’ve joined in.
I am doing the conga.
My shoes are killing me and also I am about two meters high. Please don’t let me fall over and display my nick-nacks to a Luuurve God and also a Sex God.
Also, Masimo is bound to notice that Sven and Rosie are wearing matching lurex jumpsuits. And that they are my mates.
I must escape to recapture my sophisticosity. I do not want to do a second round of conga where I end up in front of the stage next to Rosie and Sven in matching lurex jumpsuits. At a convenient moment, as we passed the door to the loos, I slipped off. I said a quick “adios” to Chunky and flung myself into the tarts’ wardrobe….
I stumbled in and took off my shoes. Ow ouchy ow ouch. Why can’t Mum buy sensible shoes? She’ll ruin my feet at this rate. I took my tights off and stuck one of my poor feet into the sink.
That’s when I saw four eyes looking at me…
“What in the name of arse?”
It was the Little Titches.
From their hidey-hole beneath the sink they said, “Hello, miss.”
I said, “Will you stop calling me ‘miss.’ And what are you doing under the sink?”
They got up. Well, I think they did. They are so titchy, it’s hard to tell.
The Ginger Titch said, “We shouldn’t really be under this sink.”
I said, “You can say t
hat again.”
And the other one said a bit more loudly, “We shouldn’t really be under this sink.”
Dear Gott in Himmel.
I said, “Well, why are you then?”
“We snuck in the back way because we wanted to see the band. We’re not allowed to do anything at home. It’s like prison. Our parents just watch what they want on television and we have to eat what they have and so on.”
Yeah, it’s tough out there.
Ginger went on, “Do you think we could sneak into the club behind you and just go and say hello to Dave the Laugh?”
The other one said, “We’ve got something we want to give him.”
Aaaahhh. That is so sweet.
I said, “Have you made him a card or something?”
Ginger said, “No, we just want to do number a quarter on the Snogging Scale with him.”
What what????
I said, “What in the name of arse is number a quarter on the Snogging Scale, and by the way, how do you know about the Snogging Scale?”
The littlest one went a bit red.
“Because we heard you in the loos. We were hiding in there one break and we heard you and made our own one up.”
You see. And Slim says I do nothing to set an example to the youth of today!
I said, “Go on then, what is it?”
They both said together, “It’s kissing hands.”
Oooh. This I have to see.
three minutes later
Came out of the tarts’ wardrobe. Ouch, bloody ouchy ouch, I’m sure my feet have swollen up. I am without doubt the patron saint of Titches.
I saw Masimo and the Dylans talking to some big blokes in suits. They started going up the stairs to the mezzanine floor of the club. I suppose for a bit of privacy for their meeting. Masimo saw me and blew me a kiss. Robbie was behind him and he smiled at me, too. Double resultio!! But then Wet Lindsay arrived on the scene and slimed up the stairs behind Robbie and she put her hands over his eyes like a blindfold. She said, “Guess who, babe?”
Ooohhhh, it was so full of embarrassmentosity. Robbie looked really uncomfortable because she was just hanging around his neck and the others were waiting to get on with the meeting. If she starts doing all that “Wickle Lindsay can’t climb up the BIG stairs,” we’ll all have a communal throw-up.
In the end, he disentangled himself and Wet Lindsay went to the far end of the club.
Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me? Page 7