‘Stop in the name of pants!’. Louise Rennison

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СКАЧАТЬ was, frankly and to get to the point and not beat around the whatsit, a “phwoooaar” snogging situation.

      Thirty seconds later

      In fact, it was deffo number four and about to be number five.

      Four seconds later

      Anyway, shut up, brain, I must think. Now is not the time for a rambling trip to Ramble Land. Now is the time to put my foot down with a firm hand and stop snogging my not-boyfriend Dave the Laugh.

      One minute later

      I mean, I am practically married to Masimo the Luuurve God.

      Ten seconds later

      Well, give or take him actually asking me to marry him.

      Five seconds later

      And the fact that he has gone off to Pizza-a-gogo land on holiday and left me here in Merrie but dangerous England to fend for myself. Being made to go on stupid school camping trips with madmen (Miss Wilson and Herr Kamyer).

      He has left me here, wandering around defenceless in the wilderness near Ramsgate, miles away from the nearest TopShop.

      Three seconds later

      And how can I help it if Dave the Laugh burrows into my tent? Because that is more or less what happened. That is le fact.

      I was snuggling down under some bit of old raincoat (or sleeping bag, as Jas would say in her annoying oooh isn’t it fun outdoors sort of way). Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I was snuggling down earlier tonight after an action-packed day of newt drawing when there was a tap-tap-tapping on the side of the tent. I thought it might have been an owl attack but it was Dave the Laugh and his Barmy Army (Tom, Declan, Sven and Edward) enticing us into their tent with promises of snacks and light entertainment.

      Four seconds later

      I blame Dave entirely for this. He and I are just mates and I have a boyfriend and he has a girlfriend and that is that, end of story. Not. Because then he comes to the countryside looking for me and waving his Horn about.

      We were frolicking around in the lads’ tent, and Dave and me went off for an innocent walk in the woods. You know, like old matey-type mates do. But then I put my foot down a bloody badger hole or something and fell backwards into the river. Anyway, Dave was laughing like a loon for a bit before he reached down and put his arms around me to lift me up the riverbank and I said, “I think I may have broken my bottom.”

      And he was really smiling and then he said, “Oh bugger it, it has to be done.”

      And he snogged me.

      When he stopped I pushed him backwards and looked at him. I was giving him my worst look.

      He said, “What?”

      I said, “You know what. Don’t just say ‘what’ like that.”

      â€œLike what?”

      I said, with enormous dignitosity, “Look, you enticed me with your shenanigans and, erm, puckering stuff.”

      He said, “Erm, I think you will find that you agreed to come to my tent in the middle of the night to steal me from my girlfriend.”

      I said, “It was you that snogged me.”

      He looked at me and then he sighed. “Yeah, I know. I don’t feel very good about this. I’m not so… well, you’re used to it.”

      My head nearly exploded. “I’m USED to what??”

      He looked quite angry, which felt horrible. I’d seen him angry with me before and I didn’t usually like what he had to say. He went on: “You started all this sounding the Horn business ages ago, using me like a decoy duck and then going out with Robbie, then messing about with me and then going out with Masimo. And then telling me that you felt mixed up.”

      I just looked at him. I felt a bit weepy actually. I might as well be wet at both ends.

      My eyes filled with tears and I blinked them away and he just kept on looking at me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe he had had enough of me and he really hated me.

      Then he just walked away and I was left alone. Alone to face the dark woods of my shamenosity and the tutting of Baby Jesus.

      Ten seconds later

      And I didn’t even know which way the tent was.

      The trees looked scary and there was all sorts of snuffling going on. Maybe it was rogue pigs. Pigs who had had enough of the farm life, fed up with just bits of old potato peelings to eat and nowhere to poo in privacy. Maybe these ones wanted a change of menu and had made a bid for freedom by scaling the pigpen fence late at night. Or perhaps they were like the prisoners of war in that old film that Vati’s always rambling on about. The Great Escape. When the prisoners dug a tunnel under the prison fence.

      That’s what these pigs must have done. Tunnelled out of the farm to freedom.

      There was more snuffling.

      Yes, but now they were hungry. Runaways from the farm just waiting to pounce on some food. If they found me, they would think of me like I thought of them. As some chops. Some chops in a skirt. In sopping knickers in my case. Out here in the Wild Woods the trotter was on the other foot.

      I could climb up a tree.

      Could they climb trees?

      Could I climb trees?

      Oh God, not death by pig!!!

      The scuffling got nearer and then a little black thing scampered out of the undergrowth. It was a vole. How much noise can one stupid little mousey thing make? A LOT is the answer.

      I should make friends with it really, because with my luck I will be kidnapped by voles and raised as one of their own. On the plus side, I would never have to face the shame of my red-bottomosity, just spend my years digging and licking my fur and being all aloney on my owney.

      Like I am now.

      Dave appeared out of the darkness in front of me. I ran over to him and burst into tears. He put his arm around me.

      â€œOK, Kittykat, I’m sorry. Come on, it’s all right. Stop blubbing. Your nose will get all swollen up and you’ll collapse under the weight of your nungas and I can’t carry all of you home.”

      It was nice in the forest now. I could see the moon through the trees. And my hiccups had СКАЧАТЬ