Love Is a Many Trousered Thing

  Personality: Yes. I think so. Yes. Again, though, as Dave the Laugh says, you can’t entirely trust someone who wears rubber shoes because they don’t believe in leather.

  Caring: He is nice to Angus and Libby, which are tough darts. So I think he probably scores about an eight.

  Minus points.

  Hmmmmm.

  Well there is the aforementioned obsession with the planet, wombats etc. There is definitely a touch of the Jas about him. And, to be frank, he did once choose wombats over me, so once bitten twice whatsit.

  Then of course there is the Wet Lindsay factor. It cannot be ignored that his lips have made contact with bits of Old Slimey’s anatomy. He did officially go out with her. I really have no excuse for that. And even now he has not given her the severe mental thrashing that she so richly deserves.

  But the major minus point is that I don’t know if he just wants me for a matey-mate or as a prospective girlfriend.

  What I really need is someone to discuss this with. If it was all alrighty with Dave the Laugh, I would deffo ask for his Hornmeister opinion.

  one minute later

  Actually why isn’t it alrighty with Dave the Laugh? He didn’t seem at all bothered when he saw me with Robbie. He even asked him to go play pool with him. In anybody’s language that is a matey-mate type person and not a prospective snoggee, so I could ask him. I think that is what I will do.

  one minute later

  Although I don’t feel I can just call him and ask him ad hoc and willy-nilly because of his girlfriend situation, so maybe I can get him on his own at the gig tomorrow night and ask him then.

  Good plan.

  Now I have got all excited in my brain box. I will never sleep I…

  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

  the piddly diddly department of life

  saturday july 23rd

  9:00 a.m.

  Is it too soon to start getting ready yet?

  Phoned Jas.

  She is not even up yet.

  9:30 a.m.

  None of the ace gang are up. How lazy can you be???

  Maybe I will take a quick morning jog over the back fields to get the old corpuscles flinging themselves around in my body.

  10:15 a.m.

  This is quite pleasant out here in the elements. My little stripey chums the bees are buzzing about in the flowers. Even now at home in the hive the queen bee might be ripping some drone’s trouser-snake addendas off. It’s a lovely thought. Or two queen bees might be having a bitch fight. Or perhaps all of them are just humming a merry song together, knitting stripey jumpers.

  Jog, jog, jog, not too bouncy, keep the nungas flexed so that they don’t hit me in the eye and jog, jog, jog. Oh look, there is Mr. Next Door and Mrs. Next Door walking the Prat Poodles. They throw them the stick and off they go yapping after it. They are a ludicrous waste of space really…and the poodles are no better! Hahahahaha I have made an inner joke. I’d better get as many inner jokes out of the way as possible before tonight because if there is one thing I have learned it is not to let my brain run free and wild. All sorts of rubbish will come out of my mouth.

  I jogged past the Next Doors and waved cheerily to them. They looked a bit alarmed. What is the matter with them? What possible harm can I do them in my running shorts?

  11:00 a.m.

  I’m just going to go to the edge of the woods and then back home. It’s about 11:00 a.m. now, so I could start my steam and cleanse routine. Deep-condition hair at the same time. Then a spot of lunch lovingly prepared by my mother. (Oh I’ve just accidentally made another inner joke.) After lunch, a lie-down with cucumber slices and face mask till my lunch has been munched up by the billions of germs and enzymes lurking around my body. They’d better do something to repay me for lugging them about all the time. That would bring the time to about 2:30, long luxurious bath with Mum’s special unguents and a very thorough going-over in the mirror for any orangutan genes. I plucked my eyebrows the day before yesterday so I should just about be alright, although those dangly squiggly ones seem to sprout in minutes. Spring out of the bath about 5:00 and then have a bit of a dash to get makeup done by 6:30.

  one minute later

  Jog, jog.

  I might have to cut short my bath just to be on the safe side because if something goes wrong makeupwise…you know, dodgy eyeliner or stab in the eye with the mascara brush…I’ll need extra time to cope.

  in the bath

  4:00 p.m.

  Oh how relaxing is this? Not, is the answer! Dad is driving me insane with his “Can I possibly get into the bathroom this side of the grave!!” shouting through the keyhole–type stuff.

  I am sure he just lounges around waiting for me to have a bath so that he can come and annoy me. He’s been doing DIY this arvie so he’s bound to be off to casualty in a minute and then at least I will get some peace. Why is he so daddish about doing stuff that he is hopeless at? Mum wanted the kitchen painted and he has insisted that he and Uncle Eddie can do it. It was only a minute and a half before he accidentally painted over the chopping board.

  in the kitchen

  4:15 p.m.

  Dad and Uncle Eddie are almost entirely buttercup yellow. They look like they have had a paint fight.

  two minutes later

  The kitchen looks like it has had a paint fight.

  Mum just looked at me.

  I looked at her.

  I said, “You chose him.”

  And I went off to my boudoir. It just shows you how vair vair careful you must be when you are choosing your partner. She should have made Dad fill out a questionnaire with questions like: Are you sane? And how are your DIY skills? For instance, can you mend a bike wheel without getting your hand stuck and having to go to casualty?

  And if the person (Dad) said “no” to both questions, then you run like the wind.

  Etc.

  Mind you as I said to Mum, I wouldn’t even have had to bother with the questionnaire as a quick glance at his enormous conk would have been a deciding factor for me.

  in my bedroom

  I had almost forgotten about my nose until Miss Octopushead mentioned it again. Let me see.

  looking in the mirror

  Well it’s not small, that is a fact. But providing I don’t do any ad hoc smiley smiley without reining my nostrils in I think it could pass for almost normal. I don’t know why, perhaps my face has grown around it a bit.

  7:10 p.m.

  I am ready. Well, as ready as I will ever be.

  My makeup went well and I have applied anti-snogging sealant to my lips, although not to my eyes this time. I decided on my short blue dress in the end, with ankle boots. My hair is not bad for once, it has bounceability and umph.

  7:15 p.m.

  Phoned Jas.

  “Jas, are you ready?”

  “Yeah, are you? Tom is walking there with Robbie so I’ll meet you and the gang at the clock tower if you like.”

  “Okey diddly dokey. I’m a bit nervy, I hope I don’t have a spaz attack on the way there.”

  “Please don’t, the last time you did my tights got laddered when we crashed into the postbox.”

  7:40 p.m.

  Clock tower.

  The ace gang rides again!!!

  Rosie was all in black, as was Sven. Also Sven was wearing a cowboy hat. He said, “Ciao baby, hasta la vista.”

  What fresh hell.

  Rosie said, “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he, my fiancé.”

  I said, “Er…yeah”

  Ellen, Jools, Mabs, Honor, Soph (trainee ace gang members), Jas and me walked along chatting together whilst Sven and Rosie brought up the rear (oo-er). There was a big queue outside the Old Market, but Sven swanned up to the front and chatted to the bloke on the door. Oh brilliant, we would probably be banned before we even got in. But to my amazement the bloke said, “Come straight through, girls,” and ushered us in. Right past Wet Lindsay and her pals. Yessssssss!!! She was as livid as a livid thing.

  stiff d
ylans gig

  Inside it was already rammed. The Dylans have built up a massive following, it is going to be vair tiring constantly going out as I will have to when I am Masimo’s girlfriend. I still can’t believe it, actually. You know when you dream about something for so long and then it happens.

  one minute later

  Well, maybe going to happen if I choose him over Robbie. Unless Masimo really is two-timing me with Lindsay, and Robbie is only my mate. In which case I am a fool and a loser.

  9.30 p.m.

  I am sooooo hot and full of tensionosity. Masimo has smiled at me from the stage, but I haven’t actually spoken to him. And also, he has smiled at quite a few girls. I have been having a laugh, but also don’t quite know what is going on. Ro Ro came up.

  “OK, gang, this is a fast one. We could practice the Viking bison dance. Have you all got your horns?”

  I said, “Oh drat I forgot mine, never mind, you lot carry on.”

  Ro Ro looked at me. “Don’t you luuuuurve the Viking bison dance? Don’t you want me to have a happy wedding?”

  I said, “Yes, I do, but as I have another eighteen years to practice the dance before you get married, I am not too bothered.”

  Rosie said, “Have it your own way, I can’t stand chatting to you all night, I have my fiancé to snog.”

  And she went and hurled herself on Sven and snogged him right in front of everyone, and he was eating a packet of peanuts at the time.

  forty-fifth visit to the tarts’ emporium

  Lippy still nice and pink and glossy. Which isn’t surprising, as I haven’t exactly been living in Snog City.

  I was just doing a bit of nunga-nunga adjusting and pouting practice when I noticed a little head bobbling about behind me. Then it was joined by another little red head. Two little heads bobbling about behind me. The little titches from school. What were they doing here? Also, they were covered in makeup, they looked like Martha and Minnie the daft vampire twits. (Whoever they are.)

  I turned round and said, “What are you two doing here?”

  Titch No. 1 said, “We like a bop on a Saturday night.”

  Are they insane? They are only about twelve. Then I noticed their skirts. Or not, as it happens. They were wearing what looked like belts. I said that to them, I said, “You seem to have come out without your skirts on. It’s not PE, you know.”

  They both started shuffling their legs.

  “It’s fashion, Miss.”

  Fashion? Miss? Hang on a minute, I had become my vati!!!

  ten minutes later

  I gave them a stiff talking-to about the birds and the bees. Well the bees anyway, I told them about the bee arse thing etc. But I also said that Wet Lindsay was here and that if she saw them they were definitely in for an ear-bashing and possibly another visit to the elephant house, or Slim’s study, as some fools call it.

  They looked a bit frightened. And one said, “We just wanted some fun. We are never allowed to do anything, it’s like being in prison. My dad shouts at me when I am on the phone, or in the bathroom or use his razor and everything.”

  I was nodding along. “I know, I know, I know. Yep I know.”

  They are very young to know the tragicosity of life, but there you are. Anyway I told them that if they stood in the dark near the bar they could watch the band for another half an hour but then they must go home.

  Strangely they seem to think I know what I am talking about and do what I say. It’s a bit like having a couple of ginger retrievers in makeup.

  back in the gig

  I took the titches to a space behind the bar where it was really dark and left them there all giggly. Wet Lindsay and her tragic mates were “grooving about” (or pratting about, as some might call it) at the far end of the club by the stage. Masimo didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. But then he hadn’t paid any attention to me either, other than smiling at me.

  fifteen minutes later

  The band had done one cracking set. No sign of Robbie yet. Masimo was a fabby singer and his dancing was grooviness personified. All the twittish girls at the front were going mental. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started throwing their knickers at him. Very very shaming, they have no pridenosity.

  I turned to Jas and said, “You wouldn’t fling your knickers on stage, would you Jazzy?”

  She said, “Well not the inner ones.”

  Is she completely insane? Does she actually wear two pairs of knickers? Outer ones and inner ones? I was just about to make her let me have a look when a sort of scuffle-type thing took place by the bar. Oh great, I might have known, the Blunderboys had turned up and Mark Big Gob was having a go at someone.

  Ellen and the rest of the gang wanted to go and see what was happening so we went over.

  one minute later

  Wow and wow and wowzee wow. It was like the shoot-out at the OK Corral. Dave the Laugh and his mates were sizing up to the Blunderboys. Apparently one of the Blunderers had been hitting on the titches, twanging their bra straps and trying to snog them and Dave had noticed and stepped up.

  Mark Big Gob said, “Pick a window, you’re leaving.”

  And the next thing I knew, Dave the Laugh was sitting on Mark Big Gob’s head.

  two minutes later

  The bouncers chucked the Blunders out. They are so pathetico, they were yelling, “Watch your back, mate, we know where you live.”

  Dave said, “Yeah, but do you know where you live, that is the point, you twit.”

  As they left, Mark did that putting two fingers to his eyes and then pointing them at Dave and then doing a pretend cutting his throat. Amazingly naff.

  The titches went up to Dave all mooney and he said, “Home, girls, now, quick as you like.”

  And they said, “OK, Dave.”

  And left all girly.

  Blimey.

  I said to Dave, “They luuurve you.”

  Dave looked at me. “I am, it has to be said, Jack the Biscuit.”

  Then he puckered up and did a really mad fast twisting dance. He was shouting, “Just call me Big Dave!!!”

  I was laughing when Emma came over with a drink for him. She said “hi” to me and then gave him a kiss and a hug. Weird. Well, the kiss and the hug weren’t weird, but it made me feel sort of weird.

  I sloped off to the ace gang.

  break

  Robbie arrived. Wet Lindsay must have been on high alert because he had only just got through the door before she flung herself on him and took him to the bar. God, I hate her. I must say he didn’t look too thrilled to see her and he was looking around. Maybe he was looking for me. I had a sudden spaz attack and said to Jas, “Jas, I am going to hide behind you, don’t move, I want to see what is going on.”

  Jas is useless as camouflage, she keeps forgetting her role and every time she says anything to me she turns round to talk to me and reveals me crouching down behind her. What is the point in that?

  Lindsay was being all “animated,” if an octopus can be animated. Robbie was being polite, but he looked a bit distracted. The he saw the Dylans coming from backstage to the bar and said something to Lindsay and went over to speak to them. As he turned his back on her, Lindsay reached down the front of her top and did a bit of adjusting. Ah-hah, her false basoomas must have come free from their lashings. Good.

  The Dylans sat down at a table and were immediately surrounded by girls all fluffing and farting about. Jas said, “I’m going to the bar with Tom, you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

  I said, “Jas, Jazzy, don’t leave me, just walk slowly across to the bar and I will lurk behind you.”

  So I shuffled over to the bar behind her, but just as we got almost opposite the Dylans’ table, she bumped into Sven. Oh no. Sven could see me sort of lurking behind Jas and he said, “Aha!!! Let us groove baby, Sven likes to groove.”

  And he picked me up and started doing this sort of jive-type dance, only my feet were not touching the ground. It was horrific and I am pretty sure
you could see my knickers and therefore my tights. Which must have looked really erm…crap.

  I said, “Put me down, Sven, please.”

  Eventually he lost interest in me because Rosie came up in her bison horns and said, “I feel the Horn coming on.”

  And Sven put me down on a table. The Dylans’ table. The table that both Masimo and Robbie were sitting at. Oh marvelous.

  My bottom was inches away from a Sex God and a Luuurve God.

  What would a person full of sophisticosity and maturiosity say?

  I said, “Anyone know the footie results?”

  Oh no, I had déjà whatsit. I slipped off the table and everyone looked at me.

  Masimo half-smiled and said, “Miss Georgia, I hope you have not a train to catch tonight.”

  And he and all the lads laughed. I of course went beetroot. Thank God it was so dark.

  I shambled off to the tarts’ wardrobe.

  As I went past her, Wet Lindsay put her face really near mine and said quietly, “Did the little girl make a fool of herself in front of the big boys? Diddums.”

  tarts’ wardrobe

  All the ace gang assembled.

  Mabs said, “You sat on their table?”

  Jools said, “You asked about the footie? Again?”

  Rosie said, “Did you say you had to catch a train?”

  Ellen said, “I mean, you could see, erm, your…knickers.”

  Jas said, “I bet you wished you had my big knickers on now.”

  back in the club of life

  On the way back from the loo, I bumped into Dave. He smiled at me in his groovy way and said, “Ah, Sex Kitty, have you just been to the piddly diddly department?”

  I said in a dignitosity-at-all-times way, “Er no, I certainly haven’t…”

  He said, “Ah…so it was the poo parlor division, then?”

  Oh it was sooo nice to see him. We both laughed. He looked at me from underneath his eyelashes for a bit. He has got really nice eyes, smiley and sexy at the same time. I wonder if I should…

  And then he said, “I’m just off for a wazz.”

  I said really quickly, “Dave, can I ask you a question in your capacity as official Hornmeister? What do you think Robbie thinks about me? I mean, do you know anything? You know, any boy-type signs that I might not know about?”