Are these my basoomas I see before me?. Louise Rennison

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СКАЧАТЬ she didn’t slow down.

      OK, I am going in.

      I leaped on her unexpectedly and pulled her beret right down over her eyes. But even then she kept marching on like nothing had happened. It was only when she crashed into the postman, who was bending over filling his sack, that she had to stop and take her beret off.

      The postman went bonkers and shouted at her to “stop playing silly beggars!!!!”.

      I have said this before and I will say it again, how come anyone who puts a badge on goes immediately insane?

      And anyway, why do they need a badge?

      A badge that says “postman” or “caretaker”.

      Don’t they know who they are?

      I took advantage of the brouhaha and stepped in front of Jas. Eyeball to eyeball.

      I said, “Jazzy, it’s me, your old pally.”

      She was all red and her fringe looked like a tumble-dried ferret.

      She said, “I know it’s you. I know it’s you because every time anything bad happens or someone is shouting, you’ll be around.”

      I said, “That’s not fair. What about the time I helped you get off with Hunky by pretending that you were normal and popular?”

      She shrugged and said, “Yeah, well…”

      “And remember the puffball skirt incident?”

      That got her.

      She said, “It looked nice.”

      “Wrong, Jas. You looked like you had a little elepoon in your nick-nacks, didn’t you?”

      She shrugged, but she knew I was right really because Astonishingly Dim Monica had worn a puffball skirt to the school play and Rosie started singing, “Nellie the elephant packed her PANTS and said goodbye to the circus”!!

      I had her on the ropes now and said, “Come on, little pally, think of all the larfs we’ve had. Come on, I need you…I need you because you are so vair vair wise. You are tip-top to the toppimost full of wisdomosity…and I am a fool.”

      Jas was flicking her stupid fringe, but I didn’t strike her. She said, “You bring it on yourself.”

      I put my arm round her and held her arm down so she would stop the fringe-fiddling business. I said, “I know, Jazzy, but that is because I am full of je ne sais quoi.”

      Stalag 14 At least Jas and me are besties again. Hurrah!

      Well, until she begins to annoy me again. In about a minute.

      RE What is it with Miss Wilson? She’s obsessed with rudey-dudeyness. Since the camping trip when she, I think deliberately, exposed herself to Herr Kamyer in the shower, she’s gone sex mad.

      I said to Rosie, “Is she wearing lippy? Or has she just eaten a strawberry Mivvy?”

      Rosie was making a little beard for her pencil case so she was a bit “busy,” but she took the trouble to look up and said, “Most people wear lippy on their lips, not on their nostrils and chin. But at least she is giving it a go.”

      I wish she wasn’t “giving it a go”.

      We were having to discuss the Song of Songs from the Bible. It’s about some old ancienty bloke who was a king and a ye olde handmaiden-type person. I think it’s mostly about snogging, but not as we know it. I said to Jools, “What does ‘he put his hand on my lock’ mean when it’s at home?”

      Jools said, “Ask her.”

      I had nothing else to do, and Miss Wilson would go boring on if I didn’t interrupt her. And I had done all I could to pass the time, even my toenails, sooo…

      I put my hand up. Well, actually, I put them both up as a sort of novelty. Like an orangutan.

      I said, “Miss Wilson, if we translated ye olde Bible into modern language-you know, that made sense-well, what number on the Snogging Scale would ‘he put his hand on my lock’ be?”

      Miss Wilson went sensationally red, nearly as red as her nostrils and chin.

      “Well, Georgia, erm, yes, that is interesting…yes, making a connection between biblical love and rituals and so forth, and, erm, modern vocabulary, erm…”

      Rosie put aside her beard because we sensed a comedy opportunity. We all stared at Miss Wilson’s bob.

      We were not disappointed. The bob was in full bob.

      German It’s not often that we get two comedy opportunities for the price of one, but happy days here we are.

      Herr Kamyer had hardly had time to adjust his knitted tie before Rosie started.

      She said, “Herr Kamyer, we have just had a sehr interesting talk with Miss Wilson.”

      Herr Kamyer was blinking through his glasses in a kindly and interested way. It’s tragic really. He said, “Oh ja?”

      Rosie said, “Ja, it is sehr sehr interesting. It was from the Bible. In der German Bible vas ist…”

      Herr Kamyer said, “Der word für Bible in German is…”

      Rosie said, “Vat ever. In der German Bible vas ist der translation für ‘he put his handchen on my lock’?”

      Herr Kamyer looked like a goldfish in a knitted tie. He said, “I’m afraid I do not know dis expression.”

      I said, “It is int der Bible, Herr Kamyer, int der Song of Songen. It ist about der Knutschen!”

      Rosie was in her own German snogging world by now.

      She said, “Would it be Abscheidskuss?”

      I said, “Or perhaps AUF GANZE GEHEN!!!!!!!”

      4:30 p.m. Walking home with the gang.

      Funnily enough, I sort of forgot about the Luuurve God for a while. But after the others had gone I felt really miz.

      I let myself in to my “home”.

      No one in.

      Do you know, Jas even knows what she is going to have for supper most nights.

      More to the point, she GETS some supper.

      Still, as long as my mum can waggle her enormous basoomas around in the swimming pool with her mates.

      That’s what counts.

      Two minutes later Had a bowl of Shreddies. The milk was past СКАЧАТЬ