Louise Rennison - ‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’

Yes, the Good Lord has been kind enough to give me a couple of special gifts.

Oh, that was a bit freaky-deaky, I had Dave the Laugh’s voice in my head when I said “a couple of special gifts”. And his voice said, “Ah, yes… the nunga-nungas.” He is even rude when I make him up in my head. That is very rude indeed. It is rudey-dudey in absentia, as we say in Latin.

Every time I think about Dave the Laugh it makes me laugh. I’ve just remembered him (accidentally) switching all the lights off during MacUseless and the entire Forest of Dunsinane falling off the stage. God, it was funny.

And his vair amusing “pants” thing – as in the famous song “The Hills are Alive with the Sound of PANTS”.

And when he put a FOR SALE sign on his school’s roof – tee hee hee.

Oy, shut up, brain! This is a Dave-the-Laugh-free zone!

If I do decide on the Luuurve God, it will serve Robbie right. He will just have to check into Heartbreak Hotel, like I had to when he dumped me. He should ask for the sobbing suite.

I have never had to check into Heartbreak Hotel because of the Luuurve God. Except, I suppose, I thought I might have to make a booking when he said he would tell me in a week’s time if he was going to be my one and only one.

But that was then, and now he has said, “I am for you if you want?” Which is vair vair good.

Good night, Luuurve God.

I hope he doesn’t think it’s odd that I had to catch a train from near the shopping centre.

At midnight.

When there isn’t a train station there.

To be fair, I haven’t really given Robbie much of a chance. Maybe I should at least talk to him before I, you know, choose my cake.

I don’t suppose they would both consider a time-share girlfriend…

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

This is the first day of the rest of my life. So why is my hair sticking up like a cockerel?

Mum caught me ironing my hair. God, she made a big deal out of it. It’s probably the first time she has seen an iron. Bloody hell, ramble on, why don’t you?

She was all red-faced. “By the time you are twenty-five your hair will be like nylon.”

I said, “Mum, who cares what I look like at twenty-five? I will be in the twilight zone of life by then, like you.”

If I hadn’t used my athletic responses I could have been quite badly injured by Mum’s hairbrush. She is very unstable.

Scavenging around in the kitchen for something to eat. Luckily a piece of toast popped out of the toaster. Ah, good. I buttered it and ate it. Blimey, being a Luuurve Goddess can make you peckish.

Vati came dadding in. He didn’t even say good morning, he said, “Is that my toast you are eating?”

I said, “To be honest, Dad, I don’t think you need any more toast; you seem to have plenty stored away around the trouser area.”

As usual in this house when anyone (me) tries to be light and amusing Dad goes ballisticisimus.

Mum came in trying to force Libby into her dungies while she still had a cup of milky pops in her hand which she would not let go of.

Dad was still moaning on about me. “Where does she get all this rudeness from, Connie? You are too easy-going on her.”

Mum said, “I know. She’s been ironing her hair.”

Dad forgot about the toast fiasco and started on beauty. Something which, quite frankly, he is not an expert on. “How bloody ridiculous is that? You’ll end up like Uncle Eddie.”

I said, “Oh right, I’m going to turn into a mad bloke on a motorbike because I straighten my hair. I think women everywhere should be told.”

I hate my parents. They are so unreasonably mad.

And so self-obsessed. They don’t seem to understand that their lives are over, and I am covered in cake.

I am nearly at Jas’s house. I must exude calmnosity and friendlinosity. I must put the egg incident behind me and be nice to Jas – so she will tell me all she knows.

When I got to Jas’s gate it was to see her bottom waggling off in the distance. Of course Eggy had set off. She will still be having the huff with me. I must be at my most charming.

I did my fast walking until I caught up with her, and gave her a lovely smile as I linked up with her. “Hello, Jas, my little chummly-wummly.”

She shook me off. “Don’t hang on to my arm, Georgia, I’m not dragging you up the hill to school just because you are tired.”

“I’m not tired, I am just so glad to see you, you lovely bigpantied loon.”

I chucked her under the chin but she still wasn’t having it. So I stopped and stood in front of her and looked into her eyes. “Jazzy Spazzy, you know I love you.”

She went all red. Some Foxwood lads who had been trailing us uselessly as usual shouted, “Oy, you lezzies, won’t she give you a kiss?”

And another one said, “Can we see your breasts, please?”

Good grief.

Jas started flicking her fringe like a mad thing. “Now look what you’ve started.”

We set off at a spanking space for Stalag 14. As we went along I was doing my special pleading – it’s very touching. “Jas, please forgive me. Did you find out anything? I know you will have done because you are so vair vair clever. And top girl at blodge and, er… everything.”

As we took our coats to the cloakroom she relented a bit. “Well, I did talk to Tom in a casual way, even though you said I couldn’t.”

“Jas, Jas, I knew you could do casualosity big time. Don’t forget I have seen you in your night-time panties, relaxing and at play.”

As the bell rang for assembly I could see the Hitler Youth (prefects) approaching, keen to do a bit of poncing around like prats. I said, “Please, pleasey please tell me what Tom said.”

“Well, he said…”

“Yes, yes?”

“Well, he said… he didn’t know anything.”

“Pardon?”

“Robbie is having a break from farming in Kiwi-a-gogo, but he doesn’t know how long he is staying.”

Is that it? Is that Detective Inspector Jas of Scotland Yard’s idea of finding out stuff? I wanted to kick her shins, but just in the knickers of time remembered that she is my best pally and I gave her my “interested” smile.

Jas was starting to say, “Yes, so I don’t really know if he likes you or not…” when Wet Lindsay slimed up alongside me with Astonishingly Dim Monica as sidekick slug and weed. Wet Lindsay’s hair extensions have been redone. How vair vair chav and naff she is. Having longer hair only draws attention to her lack of forehead and general octopus tendencies.

I forced myself to laugh merrily and look at Wet Lindsay’s forehead as if Jas had told me a good joke about it. Wet Lindsay said to me, “What have you got to laugh about, Nicolson? Have you caught sight of yourself in a mirror?”

Oh, my aching sides! How I laughed. Not. Astonishingly Dim Monica did, though, sniggering and snorting like a fool on fool tablets. I just said, “How very natural your hair looks, Lindsay. It really suits you and brings out all your best features, especially your knees.”