Madame Slack was just waiting to give me a good verbal thrashing and when I innocently said in our conversation section that “Je préfere l’Italie pour mes vacances and pour l’amour. Je n’aime pas le fromage. Merci. Au revoir.”
She said, “Ah well, je préfere les students que ne sommes pas les idiots—mais c’est la vie. Prendez vous le reprimand.”
Bloody hell, two reprimands and I haven’t even had my break-time cheesy wotsits.
lunchtime
I wonder why Dave the Laugh was buying moisturizer from Boots? Perhaps he is on the turn. I may say that to him when I see him.
I may say, “Dave, your skin is sooo soft and smooth, are you on the turn?”
Not that I will be seeing him.
Probably.
german
Rosie has been looking in her new slang book Pardon My German. She said to Herr Kamyer, “In my new dictionary it says that a kiss lasting over three minutes is abschiedskuss.”
Herr Kamyer quite literally went red all over. And I could clearly see his ankles, so I am sure about this.
He started, “Well, yes, but this language is for slang, and of course one would not say…erm—”
Rosie said helpfully, “Abschiedskuss?”
German is quite literally comedy magic.
five minutes later
Piddly diddly is pipi.
one minute later
And to poo is krappe. Hahahaha.
bell went
As we were scampering back for English (double bubble), I had one of my many vair vair ideas of geniosity. I said, “I know what we can do to stop Herr Kamyer from making us do stuff, let us get him to correct our German translation of the snogging system. That I will be doing during maths.”
afternoon break
Still at bloody school.
Still incarcerated in Stalag 14. Going to school is like going through life backward in time.
I said to the ace gang, “Did you see Miss Wilson choking on her fizzy orange when Herr Kamyer walked past her and asked her if she was wearing a new blouse? She luuurves him. She wants him baaaad. He is quite literally a babe magnet.”
Rosie looked up “babe magnet” in the “German for fools” book.
She said, “Oh ja, he is a Traumboy.”
Jools said, “When does Masimo get back?”
I said, “He said the fourteenth.”
Ellen said, “What time, I mean, did he say s’later or ‘give you a bell’ or will he, like, give you a bell or will you give him a bell?”
We looked at her.
It is true, though, he didn’t say when exactly he would be back. I don’t know what time he will be arriving, morning, afternoon or night. Which means essentially I will be on high alert and heavily made up for twenty-four hours a day. And even then he might not call me until the next day. He might have jet lag.
one minute later
I will have to go to bed fully made up and dressed in case he pops round unexpectedly.
one minute later
I have just had a spontaneous pucker up.
english
Miss Wilson announced that we are indeedy going to be doing a school production of Rom and Julthis term. And that because of the massive success of MacUseless we are going to join forces with the boys’ school again. They are going to be our “technical support.” Which in Dave the Laugh’s case means he switches all the lights off and people fall off the stage. Yarroooo!!!
We started yelling out, “Oh joy unbounded,” “Three cheers for merry England and all who sail in her,” “Poop poop!” and “For she’s a jolly good fellow” until I thought Miss Wilson’s bob would explode.
She was slightly losing her rag and said, “Now girls, settle down. I know that it is very thrilling but—Rosie get off your desk, and please put your beard away.”
Rosie looked surprised. “But I am getting in character, Miss Wilson. This is an Elizabethan beard, specially knitted by some old bloke in tights many moons ago.”
Eventually Miss Wilson was able to say that auditions were to take place on Wednesday in the main hall and that we were to read the text and think about what parts we might like to play.
Nauseating P. Green asked if there was a dog in it. She has never quite got over playing the dog in Peter Pan. Miss Wilson said, “No, there is no dog in Romeo and Juliet. It is a tragedy.”
I said, “You can say that again, Miss Wilson, because Pamela is top at fetching sticks and begging.”
We laughed and started muttering “Prithee, prithee, prithee!” And doing pretendy beard stroking every time Miss Wilson started describing the plot of Rom and Jul. After about ten minutes the classroom door banged open.
Slim came jelloiding in. Shouting and wobbling at the same time, telling us that we were making too much noise and being silly. If we didn’t all want to stay behind for detention on our first day back, we should shut up. Ramble ramble, wobble wobble, etc., etc.
Charming.
I said to the ace gang quietly, “You show a bit of enthusiasm for the Bird of Avon, our greatest old bloke in tights, and this is what you get for your trouble.”
And they wonder why the youth of today does not learn nuffink.
4:00 p.m.
Ambling out of the science block after the last bell. God, how many years have I been in blodge learning how to bamboozle my epiglottis?
As we rounded the corner toward the main building I saw Wet Lindsay dashing across to the sixth-form common room. She wasn’t wearing her uniform, she had on a short dress that showed off her knobbly knees to perfection. She glared at me as she went past, and she was undoing her stupid hair from its stupid ponytail.
I said, “That’s a nice dress, Lindsay, who went to the fitting for it?”
She just gave me two fingers.
I said to Rosie, “She’s a lovely example to us all, isn’t she?”
4:15 p.m.
Walking across the playground, I noticed Robbie sitting on his new (quite cool) scooter on the road by the gates. Most of the girls were getting all girlish and swishing their hair about as they passed him by. He saw me. (Damn, I wish I had put some makeup on!!! I must suck my nose in and smile in an ad hoc and cool way.) He has got really nice eyes and I could still picture him the day that I told him about me and Masimo and he had let a little tear out of his eye. Actually considering that he and I only saw each other for a short time, we had packed in an awful lot of blubbing one way and another. We had quite literally spent most of our possible snogging time at Heartbreak Hotel.
Ah, well.
He smiled sort of sadly at me as I got near him. I smiled back.
He is very good-looking.
He said, “Alright, Georgia?”
I said, “Yeah, fine, alrighty as two alrighty things. And you?”
He said, “Yeah cool, things are you know, er, cool. I’m guesting at the next Stiff Dylans gig…are…will you be coming? You know, with your…er…your—”
At that moment I got a sharp prod in my bum. Owwwww buggery oww. I had been stabbed in my bum-oley. I looked round into the smiling face of Wet Lindsay. Wet Lindsay and her umbrella.
Wet Lindsay said, “Hi Robbie, ready to go, hon?”
She got on the back of his scooter and whilst he couldn’t see her she was mouthing at me, “You are so dead meat.”
Robbie fired up his scooter and said, “See you around, Georgia.”
And they roared off.
I watched them and Lindsay turned round and put her finger across her throat, meaning that I was indeedy dead meat.
I rubbed my bum. I would probably have a bruise there and I had only just recovered from my last bum-oley injury.
I grumbled to the others, “She is such a bitch, I can’t believe he is falling for it AGAIN. It makes me think he is a bit half-witted.”
Jas said, “Remember what you told me about boys getting someone else really quickly when they are upset? Well, maybe y
ou have driven him into the arms of the Stick Insect octopussy girl. S’laters.”
Yep, it looks like I am going to have to make him dump her somehow. I wonder if she still wears those false nunga-nunga increasers?
five minutes later
Jas has gone a different way home in case Tom is around. Then he will wonder where she is and she will have become entrancing to him.
As I have already been caught without makeup by an ex, I am taking no chances. We nipped into the tarts’ wardrobe in the park and we applied mascara, lippy and so on. And I did a bit of hair-bounceability work. (I put my head upside down under the hot-air hand-dryer.) Rolled my skirt over and took off my tie, and voilà!!! Georgia the callous sophisticate rides again with her ace gang (minus Wise Woman of the Forest)!!
Funnily enough it was just as well we had done preparation because as we started walking down the hill Dave the Laugh caught us up. He was with Declan, Edward and Rollo. Ellen, Mabs and Jools went into giggling Gertie mode and sort of lagged back with their “boyfriends,” so it was just me and Dave and Rosie.
He linked up with us and said, “Be gentle with me, girls.”
I told Dave about the Rom and Jul fiasco and he said, “Excellent, excellent. Many comedy opportunities in the tights department there then.” He also said he had some kittykat treats for Angus.
Awwww.
As we got to the edge of the park we heard a lot of shouting. The Blunderboys. Yippee.
They saw Dave and gave him the finger. Then Oscar came looming along with his tragic jeans and no belt and one of the spoons yelled, “Wedgie!!!”
And two of them got hold of Oscar and pulled down his jeans so that his Thomas the Tank Engine kecks were exposed to the world. Mark Big Gob grabbed the top of his underpants and lifted him off his feet. Oscar was just dangling there, literally held up by his undercrackers.
Quite, quite mind bogglingly weird.
Dave was nodding and said, “Excellent work.”
We walked on and I said, “Erm, Dave, as you are world expert on the weirdness that is boydom, can you just explain what that was about?”
Dave said, “A wedgie is when the underpants are pulled sharply upward from behind, so that they go tightly up the victim’s bum-oley.”
We just looked at him.
He went on, “The ultimate is of course the atomic wedgie, when you attempt to get the victim’s pants over his head.”
I said good-bye to Rosie and Dave the Laugh at my turn-off and he and Rosie went off together. Dave looked back at me and was walking backward. He said, “S’later, you cheeky minx!”
I watched them as they went off. They were laughing and then did a bit of spontaneous “Let’s go down the disco” dancing.
I sort of wished we could have hung round together some more. I really laugh when I am with Dave.
Ah, well.
in my bedroom
If my brain keeps adding up the minutes till Masimo might be back, I’ll go mad. I am going to keep my mind (well, what there is left of it) occupied by doing (and I never thought the day would come when I would say this) my homework.
two minutes later
Now, here we go—Rom and Jul.
two hours later
Bloody hell, Billy Shakespeare can be depressing. Rom and Jul is not what you would call a mega larf. Mostly it is just fighting, a bit of underage snogging, more fighting, and then some mad bint who calls herself a nurse and makes useless jokes about sex.
For the hilarious side-splitting finale, Rom and Jul pretend to commit suicide and then they actually do commit suicide.
two minutes later
I know how they feel, it’s double physics tomorrow.
midnight
If Masimo got back at nine p.m. that makes it 7,020 minutes to wait. Or maybe if he comes back at two p.m. that makes it 6,600 minutes. Is there a time difference between here and Italy? Ooooooh, I can’t sleep. What can I do? It’s too early to start my cleanse-and-tone routine.
two minutes later
I know, I will use the “Pardon my German” book that I have borrowed from Roro and finish translating the snogging scale for Herr Kamyer and Miss Wilson. I do it only to help them with their luuurve.
I amaze myself with my caringnosity.
twenty-five minutes later
Ach, so here is the full-frontal Knutschen scale.
Händchen halten
Arm umlegen
Abschiedskuss (Hahahahahah, once again the lederhosen types come up trumps on the mirth o’meter).
Kuss, der über drei Minuten
Kuss mit geoffneten Lippen (I don’t know how Geoff got in here, but that is boys for you)
Zungenkuss
Oberkörperknutschen—im Freien (outside)
Oberkörperknutschen—drinnen (inside)
Rummachen unterhalb der Taille (ja, oh ja!!!) and
AUFS GANZE GEHEN!!!
wednesday september 14th
up at the crack of 7:00 a.m.
This is my plan. I set off to Stalag 14 with my uniform “customized.” (My skirt turned over at the waist to shorten it, no tie and no beret.) I do my makeup and hair for max glamorosity. Do the walky walky hip hip flicky hair thing all the way to school until just by the loos in the park. By this time I am only about one hundred yards from the school gate. Then I nip into the park loos whilst my very besty pally Jas stands guardey dog outside. In the loos I take my makeup off, undo customized uniform, put on stupid beret, etc. Resume looking like complete prat, then quickly walk in the middle of the ace gang and pass through the gates of Hell into Stalag 14.
8:15 a.m.
Jas was sitting on her wall. Chewing her fringe. If she isn’t careful, she will develop fur balls like cats do. Gordy was doing that choking and coughing thing last night and then he sicked up a fur ball. Disgusting really. Especially as it wasn’t even the color of his fur. I am hoping against hope it has nothing to do with licking the Prat brothers but facts have to be faced and he does spend an awful lot of time in their kennel with them.
They are entering a dog show soon and if I see Gordy coming to heel to Mr. Next Door and wearing a little pink collar, my worst suspicions will be fulfilled. So far, Angus has not been fit enough to ride the Prat brothers around like little horsies like he did before. But when he does start again, imagine what he will do if he drops down onto Gordy’s back.
When she saw me, Jas said, “Erm, you are a dead person, Hawkeye will keep you in detention forever and you will have to write a zillion times, ‘Although I look like a prozzie I am merely a tart.’” And she started honking with laughter.
She calmed down a bit when I got her in a headlock.
From upside down she said, “Nurk, I am just saying that—”
I let her go because I couldn’t make out what she was babbling on about and her face had gone very red.
She straightened her skirt.
“I am just saying, Georgia, that when Hawkeye sees you all dolled up like a tart she will not take it kindly.”
“She won’t see me all dolled up, I am only all dolled up in case Masimo is anywhere in the vicinity. Before we get to the school gates I am going to make myself look like the rest of you, boring and sad.”
Jas said, “Well, Tom says he likes me looking natural.”
I just looked at her.
“Jas, you don’t look natural.”
She was going to get onto the having a hump scale, so I quickly said, “You look bloody gorgey, that’s what you look, you bloody gorgey—thing. Anyway, this is my plan. I look all glam till we get to the loos near school, then if I see Masimo all is tickety boo luuurve wise, however if I don’t see him I scoot into the loos and take my makeup off and turn my skirt down, etc. Ditto at home time. I nip into the loos, reapply glamorosity, turning up skirt, etc., etc., you and ace gang huddly duddly me out of the school gates just in case there are any Hitler Youth on girl baiting duty. Then if Masimo i
s there waiting for me, I am a vision of whatsit. Do you see?”
She is of course being all grumpy about it but she will do it.
ten minutes later
She was saying, “I read Rom and Jul last night—it’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”
I said, “No, it’s weird. It’s even weirder than MacUseless, and that was staggeringly weird.”
Jas was off in Jasland, though.
“It was so romantic, and you know, when everyone, the nurse and all the Capulets were saying bad things about Rom, well, Juls just stuck with him. And I think there is a lesson there for us all.”
I said, “Oh yes, what is it? Don’t get married at thirteen to some twit in tights?”
Jas was looking all misty eyed. “No, it means stick to what you feel, no matter what anyone else says. And that is why I have decided not to play the elastic band game with Tom. I just love him and he can do whatever he wants, I will just love him.”
Good grief. Should I start singing and banging a tambourine? Jas has turned into Baby Jesus in a beret.
Which reminds me, I have decided to audition for Mercutio.
I have many literary reasons for this, mainly, he ponces around in tights only for two scenes and then is stabbed to death. Which as a result, leaves many, many happy hours of ligging around backstage having a hoot and a laugh with my mates. And the lads.
Rom and Jul read-through and audition in the main hall
2:00 p.m.
Miss Wilson is already hysterical.
I said to Rosie, “Certain people are not cut out to be teachers of the young.”
Rosie said, “Do you mean people with out-of-control bobs?”
And I said, “Yes.”
She has brought it on herself. You would have thought that after the fiasco of the orange juggling in MacUseless she would have learned not to be innovative. But you just can’t tell some people.
This time she has suggested we might try puppetry and mime in our production.
That immediately caused an outbreak of us all pretending to be Thunderbirds puppets.
Oh we laughed.
Then when we had almost stopped and got ourselves under control she said that in Ye Olde Days the audience was not very quiet and would shout rude jokes and stuff out at the actors.
Rosie said, “Like Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thy PANTS, Romeo?”
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