The Complete Fab Confessions of Georgia Nicolson: Books 1-10. Louise Rennison

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      My bedroom

      Midnight

      I wish I’d never started this snogging business. I feel like I’ve been attacked by whelks. I can’t see Peter any more. Why is he so keen on me, anyway? I haven’t had a chance to say more than, “Er, what are you doing at GCSE...?” before I’m attacked by the whelks again. I can’t go out with him any more. How can I tell him, though?

      1:00 a.m.

      I’ll make Jas do it.

      Friday October 16th

      9:00 p.m.

      What a week!

      I got Jas to dump Peter for me. I said for her to let him down gently, so she told him that I had a personal problem. He asked what, and she said that I thought I was a lesbian. Cheers, Jas.

      Monday October 19th

      4:00 p.m.

      It’s all round school that I’m a lesbian. In games we were in the changing room and Miss Stamp came in to change out of her gear. Suddenly everyone had disappeared, leaving me on my own with her. She really has got a moustache. Does she not notice?

      Friday October 23rd

      8:00 p.m.

      Tom phoned Jas and they’re going on a “date” to watch Robbie’s band. The band is called The Stiff Dylans. I bet it’s crap. I bet it’s merde. I bet it’s double merde.

      Mum and Dad were talking in the kitchen and when I came in they stopped and looked all shifty. Don’t get me wrong, I like it when they shut up when I come in, well I would like it if it had ever happened before. Mum said, “Have you ever thought you’d like to see a bit more of the world, Gee?” and I said, “If you’re thinking of trying to persuade me to visit Auntie Kath in Blackpool for Christmas, you can forget it.”

      I can be hilariously cutting when I try.

      10:00 p.m.

      No matter from what angle you look at it, I do have a huge, squishy nose.

      I wonder if Mum would pay for me to have plastic surgery...? If I went to the doctor and said it was psychologically damaging, to the extent that I couldn’t go out or do my homework, I wonder if I could have it done on the NHS?

      Then I remember to have a reality check... I don’t have the George Clooney-type doctor from ER – the caring, incredibly good-looking face of medicine. I’ve got Dr Wallace, the incredibly fat, red, uncaring face of medicine. It’s hard enough getting an aspirin out of him when you’ve got flu.

      11:00 p.m.

      Jas rang. She had a great time with Tom.

      “Did he bring you a present, a bunch of leeks or something?” I asked meanly but Jas refused to come down from cloud nine.

      She said, “No, but he’s a brilliant dancer. The Stiff Dylans were ace. Robbie is a cool singer.”

      I had to ask in a masochistic way. “Was Lindsay there?”

      Jas said, “Yes, she was, she’s quite nice really, she had her hair up.”

      I was furious with Jas for being so disloyal and said, “Oh, it’s nice that you’ve made new friends. I can’t help thinking though, that as Lindsay’s BEST friend you could advise her that people with massive ears should not wear their hair up.”

      I put the phone down on her.

      Midnight

      Qu-est ce que le point?

      Monday October 26th

      7:00 p.m.

      I’ve been ignoring Jas. It’s tiring, but someone has to do it.

      Thursday October 29th

      5:00 p.m.

      In Slim’s office today for a bit of a talking-to. Honestly, she has no sense of humour whatsoever.

      The main difficulty is that she imagines we are at school to learn stuff and we know we are at school to fill in the idle hours before we go home and hang around with our mates doing important things. Life skills, like make-up and playing records and trapping boys.

      Anyway, it was just one more little, trivial thing.

      We had to have our school photo taken, all of the fourth form and the teachers together. Even including Herr Kamyer, the rogue male. Ellen and Jas, Jools and Rosie Mees and me were all in the back row because we are the tallest. Well, we’ve started this new craze which is based around those old TV puppet shows Stingray and Supercar. Rosie has all the old videos which we watch. We know all the key phrases like “Fire retro rockets” and “Calling International Rescue”. And we walk around all stiffly like we are being worked (badly) by puppeteers. At the moment we are concentrating on Marina Aquamarina. She was part of an underwater kingdom, well her dad was the king of it, but they were being threatened by these horrible fish people (no they didn’t wear codpieces but it would have been excellent if they did).

      Anyway, Marina Aquamarina floated around underwater with her blonde hair trailing behind her and her arms all flopping by her side. All the boys really liked her, especially because she was dumb – when anyone spoke to her she just blinked in an appealingly dumb way. So anyway, when we are being Marina Aquamarina, as well as floating around with our arms by our sides we are not allowed to speak, just shake our heads and blink. So, for instance, if a prefect said, “Where is your beret?” you could only blink and stare and then float off quickly.

      But then there is phase two, which is pretending to be a little boy in Supercar called Jimmy. Jimmy has a very upturned nose with freckles on it. Obviously you could just put your finger on your nose and force the tip back to get the snub nose effect but a more sophisticated method is to use egg boxes. You take one of the bits that the egg fits in and paint some nostrils on it, and some freckles, and Bob’s your uncle. Pop it on some elastic and put it over your own nose. Voilà l’enfant Jimmy!!

      So when we had the school photo done, Rosie, Ellen, Julia, Jas and me all had our Jimmynoses on. When you see the photo you don’t actually notice at first, but then, when you look closely, you can see that five girls at the back all have snub noses with freckles. Bloody funny in anyone’s language. Not Slim’s, though. She was all of a quiver.

      “Do you know how costly it is to have these photographs done? No you do not, you silly girls. Do you know how ridiculous you make yourselves and the school seem? No, you seem not to know these obvious things.”

      Forty years later we got let out. Our punishment is that we have to pick up all the litter in the school grounds. That should please Mr Attwood, the school caretaker. Revenge on us because we call him Elvis. He’s only about one hundred and nine and the most boring, bad-tempered man in the universe, apart from my dad. I really don’t know what is the matter with him lately (my dad), he’s always hanging around, looking at me. Oh well, incest seems to run in my family. (That’s quite a good joke, actually.)

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