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

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      And Mabs said, “I’m just remarking on the Dave the Laugh factor.”

      Ellen sat up then. “What Dave the Laugh factor?”

      Oh Blimey O’Reilly’s nose massager! Here we go again, once more into the bakery of love. I am going to have to nip this Dave the Laugh thing in the bud.

      I said, “Ellen, did you snog Declan and, if so, what number did you get up to?”

      Ellen looked like she had swallowed a sock full of vole poo, which is not a good look.

      â€œWell, I… well, you know, I, well, do you think I did or something?”

      I said, “A yes or no any time this side of the grave would be fab, Ellen.”

      Ellen said she had to get her cardi from Jas’s rucky and tottered off to sit next to her. Hahahahaha. I am without doubtosity top girlie at red-herringnosity.

      4:00 p.m.

      Dropped off at the bottom of my road. By some miracle we have arrived home not maimed and crippled by our coach “driver” and school caretaker Elvis Attwood. He hates girls.

      I don’t think he has a driving licence. When I politely asked to see it after a near-death experience at a roundabout, he suggested I remove myself before his hand made contact with my arse. Which is unnecessary talk in a man who fought for his country in the Viking invasions. I said to him, “You are only letting yourself down by that kind of talk, Mr Attwood.”

      Two minutes later

      Walked up the drive to Chez Bonkers. Opened the door and yelled, “Hello, everyone, you can get out the fatted hamster, I am home!!!”

      Two minutes later

      No one in.

      Typico.

      I don’t know why they ramble on so much about where I’m going and what time I will be in, when they so clearly don’t give two short flying mopeds.

      Kitchen

      I’m starving.

      Nothing in the fridge of course.

      Unless you like out-of-date bean sprouts.

      Four minutes later

      Slightly mouldy toast, mmmmm. I think I am getting scurvy from lack of vitamin C, my hair feels tired. Perhaps Italian Luuurve Gods like the patchy-hair look in a girlfriend.

      I wonder if he has left a message on the phone for me?

      Five minutes later

      I really wish I hadn’t listened to the messages – it is a terrifying insight into the “life” I lead.

      First it was some giggling pal of Mum’s saying that she had met a bloke at a speed-dating night and had got to number six with him. How does she know about the snogging scale? My mum is obviously part crap mother and part seeing-ear dog.

      The next message was from Josh’s mum, saying, “After Josh came home with a Mohican haircut I don’t think it is a good idea that he comes round to play with Libby again. I am frankly puzzled as to why she had bread knives and scissors in her bedroom. Also I cannot get the blue make-up off his eyes. I suspect it is indelible ink, which means the word BUM on his forehead will take many hours to get off.”

      There was a bit more rambling and moaning, but the gist is that Josh is banned from playing with my little sister Libby.

      Dear Gott in Himmel.

      And that was it. No message from the Luuurve God. It’s been a week now. I wonder why he hasn’t called? Has he gone off me?

      Maybe I did something wrong when we last saw each other.

      One minute later

      But it was so vair vair gorgey porgey.

      One minute later

      He said, “We like each other. It will be good, Miss Georgia.”

      One minute later

      What he didn’t say was, “I will call you as soon as I get there.”

      One minute later

      Or “I will pay your airfare to Rome, you entrancing Sex Kitty.”

      Ten minutes later

      God, I am so bored. And my bottom still hurts from my falling-in-the-river fiasco. So I can’t even sit down properly.

      One minute later

      I wonder if Dave the Laugh will tell Emma about our accidental number four episode. Probably not. After all, it didn’t mean anything and, as he said, we are mates in a matey way. And what goes on in the woods stays in the woods.

      Thirty seconds later

      Hmmm. He also said in the woods that he has always really liked me. Maybe he meant that in a matey-type mate way.

      One minute later

      Will I tell Masimo?

      One minute later

      If he doesn’t ring me, I won’t have to make the decision. Anyway, it was only an accidental number four, verging on the number five. It could happen to anyone.

      One minute later

      It could happen to Masimo and his ex-girlfriend. What was her name? Gina. Yes, it might happen if, for instance, she happened to be in Rome.

      One minute later

      Even if she is not there, I bet he and his mates will be roaring round Rome on their scooters smiling at all the girls in their red bikinis or whatever it is they wear there.

      Probably nothing. They probably go to work in the nuddy-pants because they are wild and free Pizza-a-gogo types. They don’t have inhibitions like us, they just thrust their nungas forward proudly and untamed. Probably.

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