Knocked Out by My Nunga-Nungas: Further, Further Confessions of Georgia Nicolson

by Louise Rennison

  It turns out some fool has offered him a job. He is going to be in charge of waterworks or something. I said, “We’d better dig a well then.”

  But M and V were too busy snogging each other to hear me. Erlack a pongoes. Also they seem to be failing to notice that they do not exist for me.

  Vati was UNBEARABLE at breakfast, wearing his dressing gown slung round his shoulders like a sort of prizefighter and lifting Libby above his head with one hand. Actually, that bit was quite funny because she clung on to the overhead lamp and wouldn’t let go, and he very nearly lost his rag. I think he must be in some sort of hormonal middle-age thing because his moods are very unpredictable. One minute it’s all jokes; the next minute you ask him for a measly fiver and he goes ballistic. He is alarmingly bonkers. And chubby. And a cat molester.

  8:15 a.m.

  Met Jas. She said, “I told Robbie what you told me to, but I still don’t understand why you had to rush off.”

  “Dad had got his balaclava on.”

  “Oh right, I see. Yes.”

  And alarmingly she seemed quite satisfied. That is the trouble with telling people porkies—it is so easy. Should I confess about Dave the Laugh? Jas is my best friend. We know everything about each other. I, for instance, have seen her knickers. But on the other hand, she can be a terrible pain about morals and stuff. She might say it wasn’t very nice of me as Ellen is my friend, etc., etc.

  Hmmm. I’ll think about it later. In the next life.

  assembly

  9:00 a.m.

  Ellen said, “Sorry I was a bit moody and stressy with you on Saturday; I know you were just trying to cheer me up. Dave the Laugh turned up just after I’d gone. Typical!”

  OhmyGod. I am a facsimile of a sham of a friend.

  french

  1:30 p.m.

  The whole school has gone bonkers!!! Our new student French teacher turns out to be a David Ginola look-alike!!! Honestly. He’s bloody gorgeous. When he walked in even Rosie stopped plucking her eyebrows. Monsieur “Pliss Call Me Henri” has got sort of longish hair and really tight blue jeans. We are keen as la moutarde on French now. Any time he asks anything everyone puts their hands up. I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone put their hand up in French. Usually we put our heads on our desks for a little snooze and just let our arms flop over if we are supposed to be answering anything. It’s our little way of letting Madame Slack know how interested we are in Patapouf and Clicquot. Or whatever sad French people she is talking about.

  break

  2:30 p.m.

  And it isn’t just us—you should see the teachers. I even saw Hawkeye giggling when she was talking to Pliss Call Me Henri!

  The saddest of all is Herr Kamyer, who has gone completely giddy at having another man in the building. Unfortunately, his idea of bonding involves a lot of spasmodic dithering about and saying “Oh, ja. Oh, ja sehr interestink, Henri.”

  When Monsieur Henri opened the staff room door for Miss Wilson, her tragic seventies bob nearly fell off. They are all being pathetic, pretending to be interested in garlic and Edith Piaf and so on. Sad.

  I, of course, as anyone who knows me will tell you, have always loved la belle France.

  4:40 p.m.

  On the way home I said to Jas, “I have always aimed la belle France.”

  “You said you didn’t like it because it was full of French people.”

  “Well, there is that, but apart from that I aime it very much.”

  dinnertime

  6:00 p.m.

  I said to Mutti, “Can we have wine with our fish fingers like they do in la belle France?”

  She just said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  6:20 p.m.

  Vati is bringing Angus home from the vet’s tonight. Libby and me have made a hospital bed sort of thing out of his cat basket and some old blankets. Libby put one-eyed Teddy in it as well.

  He’ll be so sad and probably in agony. He will be a facsimile of a sham of his former cathood. He will just be like other cats now. Not the magnificent half cat–half Labrador that he used to be.

  I said to Mutti, “I hope it will not put you off your beauty regime, having Angus’s trouser snake addendums on your conscience.”

  7:30 p.m.

  Hahahahahaha. Angus leapt out of his cat cage and immediately attacked Vati’s trousers. When Dad went to put the car in the garage Angus shot out into the garden and over the wall. I heard Snowy and Whitey yapping and Mr. Next Door yelling.

  Happy days!

  my bedroom

  7:50 p.m.

  Although it’s a laugh having the French heart-throb around, it hasn’t quite taken my mind off my unfaithfulness with Dave the L. I don’t know what to do. Am I the only person who has a secret red bottom? Oh, I have such guiltosity.

  8:00 p.m.

  How can I concentrate on my French homework? Even if I had remembered to bring it home from school with me.

  In my book about not sweating the small stuff it says, “Don’t keep your pain a secret.”

  Rang Jas. Even she is quite swoony about Henri. “He’s quite, you know…handsome, isn’t he? In a French way.”

  I said, “Mais oui. Très sportif. Er…but lots of les garçons are, aren’t they? It’s natural at our age to be attracted to good-looking guys.”

  Jas was raving on, unaware of my secret pain. “No, I don’t think so. It’s only Tom for me. He is my one and only Hunky.”

  Good Lord. I said. “Yes, but you said Henri was quite handsome.”

  “I know, but that is just fantasy, isn’t it? I wouldn’t dream of doing anything about it.”

  “Yes, but what if, for instance, it was hot and you thought he was going to say he loved you and then you noticed he was wearing a red false nose. What then?”

  She pretended not to know what I was talking about. I must bear my secret burden of pain alone. Quel dommage.

  One thing is for sure, I must never speak to Dave the Laugh again. I must eschew him with a firm hand.

  9:00 p.m.

  Dave the Laugh rang!

  Uh-oh. He said, “Georgia. I just rang to say don’t worry about anything. I know how weird you can get. But it’s OK. We just had a laugh. No one needs to know anything about it. We can be mates. Don’t worry, Mrs. Mad.”

  Crikey. How grown-up is that? Scarily grown-up.

  He’s right though. I am just too sensitive for my own good. I should relax. It was just a little kiss.

  9:05 p.m.

  And lip nibble. With a hint of tongues.

  But that is all.

  11:05 p.m.

  I wonder what number on the snogging scale nip libbling should be.

  11:10 p.m.

  Emergency snogging scale update:

  (1) holding hands

  (2) arm around

  (3) good-night kiss

  (4) kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath

  (5) open-mouth kissing

  (6) tongues

  (6¼) nip libbling

  (6½) ear snogging

  (7) upper body fondling—outdoors

  (8) upper body fondling—indoors (in bed)

  (9) below waist activity (b.w.a.) and

  (10) the full monty

  midnight

  I wonder if it is possible to have two boyfriends. I mean, times are changing. Relationships are more complicated. In France men always have mistresses and wives and so on. Henri probably has two girlfriends. He would laugh if you told him you just had the one. He would say, “C’est très, très tragique.”

  So if he can have two I could have two. What is good for le gander must be bon for la goose aussi. Je pense. Oh, merde.

  But would I want Robbie to have another girlfriend? No!!!!!

  tuesday november 9th

  7:50 a.m.

  Angus is amusing himself by ambushing the postman. Och aye, they may have taken his trouser snake addendums, but they cannae tak his freedom!!

  walking to school with jas

 
8:30 a.m.

  Jas was having a bit of fringe trouble (i.e., she had cut it herself and made herself look like Richard II), so she was even more vague than normal. She just went fringe fiddle, fringe fiddle. I was going to have to kill her. In a caring way. Oh, the burden of guilt. I wanted to shout out, “OK!! I have nip libbled with Dave the Laugh. Kill me now.”

  But I didn’t.

  german

  10:20 a.m.

  In the spirit of European whatsit and also because I had finished painting my nails, I asked Herr Kamyer what was German for snogging. He went amazingly dithery and red. At first he pretended not to know what snogging meant, but when Rosie and Jools started puckering up and blowing kisses at him he got the message. Anyway, it’s called frontal knutschen.

  As we left class I said to Rosie, “I rest my case vis-à-vis the German people. I will never knutsch any of them.”

  french

  1:30 p.m.

  When Jackie Bummer went up to collect her homework(!) she stood so close to Henri that she was practically resting her nunga-nungas on his head. If he had had the misfortune to have seen her in her sports knickers as I have, he would have been away laughing on a fast camel. (Or as Henri would say, “away laughing on le vite camel.”)

  Uh-oh, I am thinking about Dave the Laugh again.

  Merde.

  6:00 p.m.

  Robbie phoned to say he really likes me. (Yeah!!!) He is going down to London (Booo!) for his meeting vis-à-vis becoming a HUGE star. (Hurrah!)

  A HUGE star with a really great girlfriend.

  6:10 p.m.

  I went into the kitchen to have a cheesy snack to celebrate. Angus was having a zizz in his basket. Even though he is no longer fully intact trouser snake–wise he is very cheerful. He was purring like a bulldozer. When I gave him one of his kitty treats he almost decapitated my hand. Libby wanted a kitty treat as well. I said, “They are not for human beings, Libby.”

  “I like human beans.”

  “Yes but—”

  “Give me human beans as well!!!!”

  I had to give her one. Then the Loonleader came in and said, “Who are all these mystery boys then that keep phoning you?”

  I went “Hnyunk” which in anybody’s except an absolute fool’s language means, “It is none of your business, and I will be sick on your slippers if you go on.”

  Vati, of course, didn’t get it. He raved on. “Why don’t you bring them round here for us to meet?” On and on and ON about it.

  I said, “As I have said many, many times, I have to be going now.”

  my bedroom

  8:00 p.m.

  Everyone has gone out. I’ve got so much homework and so on it will be a relief to really get down to it.

  8:05 p.m.

  Oh Blimey O’Reilly’s pantyhose…what is the point of Shakespeare? I know he is a genius and so on, but he does rave on. What light doth through yonder window break?

  It’s the bloody moon, for God’s sake, Will, get a grip!!

  Phoned Rosie. “The Sex God has to go to London to see the record company people and discuss making an album. I don’t mean to boast but I have to…. Not only am I the girlfriend of a Sex God, I am now going to be fantastically rich.”

  “Fab. Groovesville, Arizona. Are you going to be living in an all-white penthouse with parrots?”

  Sometimes I really worry about my friends. Parrots?

  Then I could hear in the background, “Parrots? Parrots? Oh ja.” Sven seemed really interested in these bloody parrots, my new flatmates.

  Rosie said, “Hang on a minute.”

  Her massive Norwegian boyfriend always seems to be round her house: that is because she has very, very nice parents who go out a lot. I could hear kissing noises and giggling and a sort of Norwegian parrot thing.

  When she came back Rosie said, “Sven says, Can we come and live with you in your groovy London pad?”

  “No.”

  “Fair enough.”

  11:00 p.m.

  I won’t let my newfound happiness with a famous popstar spoil me though, and I definitely want my own career. Using one of my many talents. Hmmm…What career combines being able to apply makeup with innovative trouser snake dancing?

  I could be a heavily made-up girl backup dancer!

  wednesday november 10th

  biology

  1:30 p.m.

  I can do a magnificent impression of a bolus of food being passed along the alimentary canal. Mrs. Hawkins said it was “terrifyingly realistic.” So I’ll probably get top marks in blodge and become, erm, what is it you become when you do biology?…A bloke with a beard ferretting round in swamps. Maybe I’ll stick with the backup dancer idea.

  10:00 p.m.

  I had to go to bed because Vati was singing “I Will Always Love Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu” by Whitney Useless.

  11:00 p.m.

  Just nodding off when I heard this noise at my window like pebbles being thrown against it. Angus has made a startling recovery, but surely even he hadn’t learnt how to throw pebbles. I opened the window and looked out, and there below me was the Sex God!! Aahhhhh. He blew me a kiss when I opened the window, and he said, “Come down.”

  I put on my coat over my jimjams and had just a second to remember my emergency Sex God drill—lip gloss, comb idiot hair, suck in nostrils—before I crept downstairs and opened the door. The olds were all still up in the front room, singing the national anthem, only to a reggae beat…. I suspect a few barrels of Vino Tinto had been drunk.

  Robbie gave me a really dreamy long kiss when I came out. I whispered, “Brrr, it’s very nippy noodles, isn’t it?”

  Robbie looked at me like I was half insane (and half bonkers). Which I am so sure he is not wrong there. SHUT UP, BRAIN!!!!

  in bed

  midnight

  He has gone.

  To London.

  Without me.

  thursday november 11th

  8:30 a.m.

  Still, life carries on. Exams to be examined. Serious things to be thingied.

  Today we have decided on Operation La Belle France.

  The whole gang went to school wearing our berets like les françaises and also with our collars on our coats turned up. Rosie even brought a bunch of onions for Henri, which in my personal opinion is taking things just that little bit too far. He was all groovy and smiley and said, “Merci, mademoiselle, I will make the delicieusement soupe a l’oignonce soir and I will think of you when I eat it.”

  Which is a plus and a minus in my book. Très bon to be thought of by Henri but not so bon to be associated with onions. He said it all in la française and I knew what he meant. I smiled at him to let him know that I knew what it meant.

  11:00 a.m.

  The French test didn’t seem all that difficult.

  We have got Henri fever. Badly. All this morning we wandered round going “Haw he haw he haw” in a French accent.

  p.e.

  1:30 p.m.

  I think even Miss Stamp might be on the turn because of Henri. I could have sworn she has had a shave.

  break

  2:30 p.m.

  Ellen and me were sitting on the radiator near the vending machine. In these cold autumn days it’s quite pleasant having toastie knickers. I said to Ellen with great casualosity, “How’s it going with you and Dave the Laugh?”

  She said, “Quite cool.”

  What does that mean? I tell you what it means: it means that he hasn’t told her about our accidental snog.

  I may live to snog another day.

  saturday november 13th

  11:00 a.m.

  Very, very bad Sex God withdrawal.

  midday

  Even though I am not in the mood for shopping because I am so sad and aloney I forced myself to ask Mum for a fiver and made an effort to go out. Rosie, Jools, Ellen and Jas and me met at Luigi’s as normal and then went off to Miss Selfridge. On the way there we had to go through the town center and we were
just walking along all linked up when we saw Dave the Laugh with Rollo and a couple of other mates. Uh-oh.

  Dave the Laugh said, “Hi, dream chicks.”

  He is a very fit-looking boy. It’s funny that even though, of course, I am really sorry (honestly, Jesus) about the red-bottom business, it is always nice to see him. I never feel like such a stupid loon round him as I do with the Sex God. We were close to Jennings the greengrocer’s, where Tom works, so Jas HAD to pop in to see her so-called boyfriend.

  I said, “Ask him if he has got any firm legumes.” But she didn’t pay any attention to me.

  Ellen was being really girlie round Dave and flicking her hair about. They were chatting and I was pretending to be looking at things with Rosie. But really I wanted to know what Dave the L was saying to Ellen. I still didn’t know if they were official snogging partners.

  The lads went off and Dave gave Ellen a little kiss on her cheek.

  It made me feel a bit funny, actually. I don’t know why.

  3:00 p.m.

  Ellen was all stupid for the rest of the afternoon. She is going to the flicks tonight, so she said she had to go home to get ready. I said to Rosie, “So are they an item then?”

  Rosie said, “I know that she thinks he’s really cool, but she won’t tell me what number they have got up to. She says it’s private.”

  I said, “That’s pathetic.”

  And Rosie said, “I know, but I’ll keep my beadies on them tonight at the cinema and see if I can tell.”

  It turns out that everyone—Jas and Tom, Rosie and Sven, Ellen and Dave, Jools and Rollo and a few more couples—are all going out together tonight. Everyone, that is, besides me.

  Merde.

  I am a goosegog in my own country.

  3:30 p.m.

  Phoned Jas.

  “I am a goosegog in my own country.”

  “Well, come along tonight then.”

  “I can’t. You’ll all be having a snogging fest. Don’t worry. I’ll just stay in whilst my best mates all go out together.”

  She said, “Oh, OK then. See you later.”

  Charming. And typico.

  8:00 p.m.

  SG phoned. Oooohhhhh. The record company wants to sign them up!!! They are going along to this big music industry party tonight at some trendy club.

  midnight

  I am a pop widow.

  sunday november 14th

  lunchtime

  1:10 p.m.