Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me

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Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me Page 15

by Louise Rennison


  I said to Rosie, “If it’s Dave the Laugh she hands it to, she’ll either never see it again or the next time she does see it, it will be wearing comedy glasses. Probably hers.”

  Oh, I am exhausted. The whole afternoon has been absolute top entertainment.

  And I never thought I would say that about Stalag 14.

  home

  I’m full of exhaustosity, and even saying that is making me vair tired.

  Gordy got stuck in a beer mug. Honestly. I don’t know what to say.

  Masimo called.

  He sounded a bit down.

  “Ciao, Cara. Did you have good day?”

  I said, “Yeah, we did sword fighting and it was tremendously crap. For the school play. Rom and Jul.”

  He laughed. “Yes, I am glad you are more happy. I look forward to seeing you in it.”

  Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Not in my tights. No.

  Before I could say the no, no, no business, he went on.

  “The management, they call today, and they are upset. They say it might not be so good for the band. If I am not with them. I don’t know. I say, Robbie he is good and they say yes, but it is more good with two.”

  Oh, bloody hell, now I was ruining six people’s lives. Oh good.

  Masimo is going off for another meeting with the band. Also he knows that Robbie has dumped Wet Lindsay.

  I said, “Yes, well, every clud has a silver lining.”

  He didn’t get it, though.

  8:00 p.m.

  What should I do?

  What if the management say that they won’t take the Stiff Dylans without the Luuurve God? I would be the most hated girl in town since Big Fat Mary the Hateful. Whoever she was.

  I wish I could talk to Dave the Laugh. It seems ages since I saw him.

  I hope he hasn’t got the hump with me again.

  It wasn’t my fault he said I was beautiful.

  I hadn’t meant to be.

  I’m not.

  looking in my mirror

  Especially as there is the suspicion of a lurker on my chin.

  Oh no.

  in bed

  8:15 p.m.

  Some absolute fool (Vati) has replaced Mr. Fish’s batteries.

  8:30 p.m.

  Mr. Fish is still singing “Maybe it’s beCOD I’m a Londoner” and wriggling about. I said to Libby, “Turn him off now, he’s tired.”

  Libby gave her mad heggy heggy ho laugh and said, “He’s singing!!!”

  I said, “I know he’s singing, but it’s time for bobos now. Let’s tuck Mr. Fish under the blankets so that he doesn’t…erm…get…”

  Libby said, “Fwightened.”

  “Yes, let’s tuck Mr. Fish up so he doesn’t get frightened.”

  “Fwightened.”

  “Fwightened.”

  My life is a mockery of a sham of a fiasco.

  Dreamt that I was fighting off lurkers.

  It was disgusting actually.

  I was in Rom and Jul, giving it my all in my tights, and the lurkers came lumbering and lurking up to me. Surrounding me. And when I hit them with a sword, they exploded like custard bombs. But they didn’t give up; they just kept coming up to me all wriggling and exploding and singing…“Maybe it’s because I’m a LURKERER!!!”

  just call me pongo

  thursday october 6th

  french

  Madame Slack had le nervy spaz today. She is vair highly strung. (Or should be.) We only laughed when we read in our Français textbook that the slang for a lady lavatory attendant was une dame pipi. And she started tutting and muttering in French.

  She said we were childish.

  Caca is to poo. Hahahahahaha.

  To get her own back, she told us that the slang insult for English people is Les rosbifs (the roast beefs) or Les biftecks (the steaks).

  Then she laughed like le drain.

  I said to Rosie, “Oooh là là, she has really hurt my feelings now by saying I am a roast beef. I may never play the violin again.”

  What is the matter with the Froggy-a-gogo people?

  first technical run-through with the lads

  I feel a bit nervy. I don’t know why. The lads are due in a min. We are all huddled in the loos doing lippy work. Miss Wilson wanted us to wear our costumes. But in a fit of geniosity Jools said, “Miss Wilson, I think we should try and keep the, erm…mystery, and, er…”

  I said, “Sheer bloody excitementnosity.”

  Jools said, “Yes, keep the excitementnosity down to a manageable level, by wearing casual clothes in rehearsal.”

  Essentially, what she is saying is that we will not be donning our tights in front of the lads until we absolutely have to.

  Miss Wilson said, “Yes, yes, I see what you mean. Let the, the mystery and excitement gather. Yes.”

  Of course, Jas was a bit miffed. She is keen as la moutarde to get into her Jul’s gear:

  a) because she is a girlie swot and b) because she has a quite flattering dress to wear and a blond wig. Which personally I like a LOT, due to its lack of fringeyness. I wonder what Jas will do with her hands when she hasn’t got her fringe to fiddle with?

  Try to fight off Melanie’s basoomas, I should think. I don’t think the binding is very secure on Rom’s costume. When they last tried to strap her into her tunic, two buttons popped off and nearly blinded one of the villagers.

  She must be a thirty-four H if she is a day.

  We are rehearsing with a ladder and a bit of scaffolding for the balcony scene…. Mr. Attwood is standing by with his first-aid kit. I bet he is hoping that Melanie strains a basooma and he has to put it in a splint.

  ten minutes later

  Nauseating P. Green has brought some proper dog biscuits in for her puppet dog. Which she told everyone is called Pongo.

  Jas said to P. Green, “I can’t just call you Pongo, you know. It’s not in the script.”

  P. Green said, “No, but you will know that it’s my name, and I will know it’s my name.”

  I said, “Er, Pamela, how will we know it’s your name if no one says your name?”

  And Nauseating P. Green said, “I’ve got it on my dog collar.”

  And she has.

  4:30 p.m.

  The lads arrived.

  We were all on the stage when they came in.

  They sounded like they kicked the door open and all surged in at once. We sort of huddled at the back of the stage while they whooped and yelled.

  I said to Rosie, “Can you see Dave the Laugh anywhere?”

  And she said, “Are you having the General Horn?”

  I said, “Nooo. I just can’t see him and…”

  At which point he walked in and waved at us all on the stage. He said, “Settle down, girls. I am here.”

  He went over to Miss Wilson and said, “May I say how thrilled I am that once more we can help you as you fill your Shakespearean tights.”

  Miss Wilson had a bit of a ditherspaz. Dave can look smiley and sincere while he says the rudest things.

  She said, “Well, thank you, I, well, I am not, erm, filling, well, I mean, I won’t be, I’m not in the play of course. Would you boys start by looking at our lighting plan and the scenery that needs, erm, painting?”

  Dave said, “Of course, sir. I have only the finest handpicked lads with me.”

  on the side of the stage, while Miss Wilson

  chalks stuff on the stage and so on

  fifteen minutes later

  Dave came up behind me. I had sort of felt too shy to go up to him and although he had caught my eye and winked, he was busy chatting to all the other girls.

  He is an appalling flirt.

  The girls were all giggling and being girlie.

  Pathetico. I wonder if Emma would be so smiley if she could see him now.

  He looked at me for what seemed like ages. Then he came really close to me. Oh my God. He said, “Hello, miss. Show us your sword.”

  My head nearly fell off. Why does he come and
stand so close to me?

  I was so happy to see him, though.

  So I showed him my sword.

  He said, “Ummm, groovy.”

  I said, “How did you manage to get handpicked?”

  And he had said, “Kittykat, as you know, I am the vati. The vati is always handpicked, and the vati’s mates are handpicked, also.”

  I said, “Yes, yes, but who does the handpicking?”

  And he said, “Hello.”

  5:30 p.m.

  For a while, I forgot that I was on the horns of a whatsit. And also prob up shi cree without a padd.

  As I predicted, when P. Green handed over Pongo to become a blood corpuscle, it was the last she saw of him. Until he appeared on the balcony with a false beard and a pair of comedy glasses at the suicide scene.

  Actually, the lads were relatively well behaved. Probably because they were so mesmerized by Melanie’s basoomas, especially when she tried to get up the ladder. They all offered to give her a hand up.

  The pièce de résistance was, of course, the snogging scene. You have never seen anything like it. Twenty lads at the side of the stage. All like Seeing Eye dogs. I wouldn’t mind, but it isn’t even proper snogging. It’s bloody mime-snogging and they still were drooling like drooling droolers.

  There is some crap music and then Jul and Rom start going into slow motion. Their eyes meet at the dance and then they walk over to each other. Then they pucker up really slowly: puckering and moving their heads from side to side, with their arms flailing about. And then there is the sound of waves crashing and they pretend to fall back and be swamped by the waves.

  Then they do the slow-motion puckering and arms flailing thing again, and then the waves crash again and they fall back again.

  It’s WUBBISH snogging.

  It’s like in Thunderbirds, that crap puppet show, where you can see the strings and the puppets’ feet are about a meter off the ground.

  However, in Melanie’s case, it is not only the arms that are slow-motion flailing around. It is her nunga-nungas as well.

  At the end of the big snogging fiasco all the lads went, “Phwoooaar.”

  As I have said often, boys are sensationally weird.

  twenty minutes later

  Rosie got a bit of a telling off for ad hoc beard work during her Nursie scene.

  As I have often said, she has two styles of acting: with or without the beard.

  ten minutes later

  My fight scene with Ellen was a triumph, dahling, a triumph.

  At the end of it Dave the Laugh said to me, “I don’t care what anyone says, I think you were marvelous.”

  6:30 p.m.

  As we were all piling out of “rehearsal,” Tom turned up in the hall. Jas went all pink but amazed me by not dashing over to him like a simpleton. He came over to her and said, “I came to take you for a romantic walk in the woods.”

  And got hold of her hand and they walked off.

  Ooohh. Quite touching really. If you like that sort of thing. And also, it has to be said, Jas ’n’ Tom’s idea of a “romantic walk in the woods” is almost bound to involve cuckoo spit.

  As we were all going along the corridor to get out of Stalag 14, I was next to Dave the Laugh. All his mates were round so I didn’t feel like I could say anything to him about the Luuurve God situation.

  But the lads were preoccupied with flirting and farting and so on, and it was Dave who said, “Gee, about the other night.”

  I said quickly, “I know, I know, you just said something nice to me, to make me feel nice…. It’s OK, I didn’t really believe it. You were just like being nice or something.”

  Dave said, “Well…not exactly…”

  I was thinking, oh no, he didn’t mean it at all. He’s embarrassed now.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  He said, “I’m a bit confused.”

  I said, “You don’t need to talk to me about confused, I am Lady Confused of…well, I don’t know where…”

  He said, “Look, I just wanted to say—”

  I said, “No, I just wanted to say—”

  By this time, we were outside going toward the gates.

  Dave said, “Look, you’ve chosen Masimo and…”

  I said, “Yeah, I know, but well…”

  Dave said, “But well what…”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I said, “Just, yeah, I know, but well…”

  Dave looked at me. He sighed. “God, Georgia…”

  I said, “I know.”

  But I don’t.

  And that’s when I saw Masimo waiting for me on his scooter.

  Dave said, “You’d better go, kittykat. I’m off to see Emma.”

  But he didn’t sound pleased. He sounded sort of sad.

  Oh double merde.

  saturday october 8th

  Jas phoned up.

  “Gee, guess what? Dave the Laugh has finished with Emma.”

  What?

  I said, “Really, how do you know?”

  And she said, “Well, I’ve had Emma on the phone. She’s really upset. She couldn’t speak at first. She just sort of hiccupped.”

  “Why did he say that he finished with her?”

  “She said that he said that she was too good for him.”

  I said, “Well, to be frank, she is.”

  Jas said, “Yeah, but people always say that, don’t they, when they dump people?”

  Oh, here we go. Jas has gone back to her Wise Woman of the Forest ways.

  I said, “Jas, forgive me if I’m right, but you have never been either the dumper or the dumpee, so how do you know so much?”

  Jas was getting a bit numpty and I wanted to know all the juicy details so when she said, “I am a great observer of people,” I didn’t laugh or anything.

  She was in full wisdomosity mood.

  “Yes, it’s like when you get dumped and people say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me. I just need space.’ And the space they need is exactly the height and width of the space that you are.”

  What is she on about?

  I said, “What else did she say?”

  Jas said, “Well, this is the weird bit, she said that he said there was someone else.”

  Ohmygod.

  Someone else?

  Dave had someone else?

  And he said I was the most beautiful girl for him.

  Whilst he had someone else?

  Two someone elses.

  twits in tights fiasco

  thursday october 13th

  dress rehearsal

  Dave wasn’t at the dress rehearsal.

  Jas said that Emma has been off school.

  I didn’t ask for any details, because I feel so weird about the whole Dave the Laugh multi-girlfriend scenario, but Radio Jas cannot help herself.

  She said, “I went round to see her and she was in her dressing gown watching daytime TV and eating Pringles.”

  I said, “Well, that’s alright, isn’t it? My dad does that.”

  Jas said, “Yes, but does your dad have a picture of Dave the Laugh pinned onto a teddy?”

  Oh, bloody hell.

  I said to Nursie, “Erm, aren’t we supposed to be teenagers with not a care in the world, etc.?”

  Rosie said, “I haven’t got a care in the world, apart from an itchy beard.”

  I wonder if Dave the Laugh is off with his new mystery girlfriend?

  He’s a bit of a swine if he is.

  Just dumping poor Emma and going off with someone else.

  Without a care in the world.

  Dumping Emma and telling me I am the most beautiful girl in the world.

  Still, he is not my problem.

  He has proved himself to be a hard-hearted Hornmeister and gad-abouty boy.

  at home

  6:00 p.m.

  Masimo is coming to the Twits in Tights fiasco.

  Ooohh nooo.

  I tried to persuade him not to, but he says he wants to see me.

/>   In fact, even though I have once again tried to pretend to my family that the show is next week, they don’t believe me.

  Which is a savage indictment of our relationship in my opinion.

  I said that to Mum. I said, “I am very upset that you don’t trust me. If I tell you that the production is next week, why oh why do you not believe me?”

  And she said, “Because I was talking to Jas’s mum and she said she would see me there tomorrow night.”

  Oh, typical.

  Jas has told her parents the proper night of the show.

  That is so typical.

  She wants everyone to see her pretend snogging and being thrown around by pretend waves.

  6:30 p.m.

  Oh, fabulous…EVERYONE is coming.

  Grandvati phoned up to tell me the wonderful news.

  I answered the phone and he said, “Hello, hello, anybody there?”

  And I said, “It’s me, Georgia.”

  And he said, “Well, what do you want?”

  Oh God’s pajamas and matching slipperettes.

  I said, “Grandad, you phoned me.”

  He said, “Did I? What did I want?”

  It turns out that he and Maisie (his knitted girlfriend) are coming along to see Rom and Jul as a special celebration.

  I said, “You won’t like it, Grandad, it’s all mime and slow motion.”

  And Grandvati said, “Is that big girl in it again?”

  6:45 p.m.

  No amount of pleading will make my mutti and vati not come along. And they are bringing Libby. I said, “No, there is no need for that. She doesn’t want to come.”

  I said to her, “You don’t want to come along to the silly old Rom and Jul thing, do you?”

  She said, “I laiike it. I laiike Mr. Cheese best.”

  I said, “Ah well, Mr. Cheese is not in it.”

  She kicked me very hard on the ankle.

  When I bent down to rub it, she put her little face in mine.

  And went cross-eyed.

  “Mr. Cheese IS COMING!!! BAD GINGER!!!”

  one minute later

  Oh, good, she is bringing Mr. Cheese.

  And Mr. Fish, probably.

  five minutes later

  Oh, well, maybe it will be alright. I’m only on for about a minute, anyway, and then I can just lurk around annoying Mr. Attwood, or trying to put Jas off with my amusing backstage pranks (which she will then kill me for).

 

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