Jas was rambling on: “Tom says if you come to the gig tonight, you’re in for a big surprise.”
I said, “Why has it been canceled?”
“Noooo…oooh I wish I could tell you, but I promised, oh it is so…oh well, anyway, you’re still going to come now, right? Please come.”
“Say, please will you come I love you, you are my besty.”
There was a pause. I said, “Don’t you want me to come?”
She said, “Er…well. Please will you come I love you, you are my besty.”
I said, “I will think about it. Good-bye.”
Yessssssssss!!! I win hahahahah. Jazzy Spazzy had to say she luuurved me. Teehee.
I’m definitely not going now.
3:00 p.m.
I’ve decided again to go to the gig. Partly to get out of the house because Grandvati is coming round tonight. And I am a bit interested in what Tom has to say. I mean, if it was just Jas that was saying I should go, I would be a bit suspicious because her idea of exciting and “good” are different to mine. But Tom is, on the whole, not entirely mad for a boy.
4:00 p.m.
I wonder what it could be? I wonder if he has spoken to Masimo? He did say that he would try to find out stuff for me. Maybe Masimo has told him that the “mates” thing was a mistake.
5:00 p.m.
What on earth shall I wear?
6:30 p.m.
Grandvati turned up in his “leisure” wear. Is it normal for octogenarians to wear tartan zoot suits? With matching cap? And rouge?
I went downstairs to say hello, even though I am vair vair busy trying to find something to wear for the gig. He was in the front room giving Libby the bumps. I waved to him and he waved back and smiled. He hasn’t got his teeth in. I said to Mum, “Mum, my venerated grandfather is wearing makeup.”
She just turned her eyes skyward and said, “Don’t start me off. They say women go through a funny patch as they get older, but they’re practically saints compared to men. He says he’s taking up waterskiing.”
I said, “Will he be wearing a wet suit?”
She said, “I’m afraid so.”
Good grief.
After Grandvati had given me the usual ten pence to “get something nice for yourself,” like what? Half a stamp? I went back to my boudoir.
There must be something perfect for me to wear that will have Masimo desperate not to be my mate.
7:00 p.m.
Ready at last. I finally decided on my pleated kilt, boots, and crossover top. I went downstairs hoping to nip out of the door without a Nazi interrogation from Vati, but sadly he was just emerging from collecting extra pie rations from the kitchen. He looked me up and down. “Er, I think you will find that you have forgotten to put a skirt on, Georgia.”
Oh vair vair amusant.
Mum came out of the kitchen with a struggling Gordy and chucked him outside and banged the door. He was howling and then started hurling himself against the door.
Mum went into the front room and said, “Libby, you must not put him in the fridge anymore.”
“He laaaikes it.”
“I know he likes it. He was lying in the butter. It’s disgusting.”
Vati was still raving on about my skirt. “Have you seen this, Connie? Look at the state she thinks she is going out in. You can practically see what she had for her tea.”
What is he talking about? And also that’s a laugh, what I had for tea. I didn’t have anything for “tea.” We don’t have stuff for tea.
Mum said, “Oh for goodness’ sake, Bob, it’s fashion. They all look stupid, it’s not just her.”
Oh very supportive coming from someone who is wearing a top so tight that her nungas are practically extra arms. But I didn’t say that because I saw a window of opportunity for an escape whilst they argued the toss about fashion and so on.
Vati was still going on: “Oh so it’s alright that she looks like a prostitute because it’s fashion? I suppose if leather bikinis were fashion you wouldn’t mind your teenage daughter going out in one.”
Mum said, “You’re being stupid, Bob. Leather bikinis will never be the fashion.”
Grandad said, “Leather bikinis not fashionable? You tell Maisie and the rest of the lasses at the Housing Association that!”
I can’t begin to let that image into my brain. On the plus side, it did stun Dad so much that I was able to get through the door and escape.
clock tower
I had forgotten for the minute how nervy I am. I am sure I am having a heart attack, my heart is plip plopping and racing. I must get a grip. This is going to be the ultimate glaciosity test.
Jas, Ellen, Mabs, and Jools were all at the clock tower. We did our special Klingon salute. Jas was being very annoying coming up to me and hugging me and going, “Oooohhhhhhhh I am soooooo excited.”
If it is anything to do with any form of livestock, this “exciting” thing that she is so excited about, I will have to simply and quietly put her out of her misery. A glancing blow to the head should do it.
We started walking to the gig. I said, “Where are Ro Ro and Sven?”
Mabs said, “The bride and bridegroom phoned and said they would see us there.”
fifteen minutes later
I feel like every footstep is bringing me closer to my fate. I don’t know what I expect, anyway. He has said he wants to be my mate, that is the end of the story. Maybe there will be someone else there that I like. Yeah, whatever.
in the tarts’ wardrobe
Ironically for once my hair is not buggering about and there are no lurking lurker incidents. I decided against wearing the boy entrancers. At first I thought I would do a double bluff on Our Lord. I thought I wouldn’t wear them because I might end up in a snogging scenario and they might come adrift with tragic consequences. But then I thought I SHOULD wear them because that would imply I didn’t think that there would be snogging action and God would think that was sad, and then He would give me a surprise by giving me snogging action. But then I thought that He knows our every thought even when we are on the lavatory so He would know I was doing double bluffsies. So in the end what it comes down to is what sort of mood Our Lord is in. I should tell Call-Me-Arnold to put that in his sermon if he wants to depress people. If God is in a smiting mood He would smite away to His heart’s content, and if He was in a peachey mood, it also didn’t matter what I was wearing.
In the end, I couldn’t get the entrancers on straight and after I had stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara I called it a day, entrancerwise.
Still, I had done a good job on the old layering of the mascara and my lippy was good. It looked all pouty pout and so on. I was just inspecting myself from the side smiling and looking confident when Jas came out of the loo.
“Why are you doing an impression of a goldfish? Are you fishing for compliments? Or are you trying to look NETural…!!!”
And she went cackling off. She really does imagine that she is funny. Also she did that weird hugging thing again and also said, “Wrrrrrrrr.”
Why?
8:30 p.m.
The Stiff Dylans are on in a minute. I am on piddly diddly duty about every two minutes.
8:35 p.m.
It’s rammed in the club. I couldn’t see Dave the Laugh and his mates. Perhaps they weren’t coming. No sign of the happy couple. Or Wet Lindsay.
I said to Jas, “Oh dear, no sign of Wet Lindsay. I hope she hasn’t fallen down some grating on the way here. That would be tragic. Ish.”
8:40 p.m.
Then Ellen said, “Oh look, there is Dave. He looks cool, doesn’t he? He, I think he’s like, on his own. Can you see Emma? I can’t see Emma, can you? Can you see her?”
Ellen might be on my killing list as well as Jas, at this rate.
two minutes later
Tom arrived. He walked in and saw Jas; he did a thumbsie up to her and she did one back. How sad and uncool is that?
They only saw each other about an hour ago. It’s pathetico. But quite touching when you are a spinster of the parish. I suppose I should be happy for them. I am, really. But if she hugs me one more time I will definitely deck her.
stiff dylans onstage
My tummy turned over when Masimo walked out on stage. He is just so gorgey. Actually I don’t know why I thought he would like me, he is clearly a 10 and as Jas so kindly reminded me, I once got 0 out of 10 for my nose. In fact, my average for features was 6 and a half. 6 and halfs do not go out with 10s—that is the law of the snogging jungle.
half an hour later
The Stiff Dylans rule. They are groove personified.
I know I am wound up on the rack of luuurve and so on but the music was so good everyone has gone mental. The ace gang is giving the world our renowned disco inferno exhibition. Everyone except Rosie and Sven, that is. I wonder where they are?
half an hour later
Still dancing. I am showing joie de vivre and savoir faire to Masimo.
I am boiling but I don’t care. I think a bit of a healthy glow is nice in a girl.
Jas said, “Blimey, you’re red. You look like you’ve plunged your head into a vat of boiling oil.”
Oh good. I dashed off to the tarts’ wardrobe for a bit of a dampening down and titivating session.
back in the club
five minutes later
Dave and Rollo and Tom came over and joined us in a sort of semi Viking disco inferno dance (but without the horns). Rosie is in charge of horns. Dave added some moves of his own, although it was a bit of a surprise when he leapt up into my arms. I managed to take his weight for a minute before he leapt down. He does make me laugh. We even did linksie-up disco dancing. Then he went off and he shouted to me, “Off to the piddly diddly department.”
As we were doing our dance routines in front of the stage, I like to think that Masimo was looking at me in an admiring way. Either that or that he was thinking, My new mate has gone mad.
But I refuse to be sad.
Actually Masimo did smile at me quite a lot when he caught my eye. But I am not so stupid that I think it means anything. I said to Jas, “Did you see Masimo looking at me?”
She said, “Forget about him, he is yesterday’s news.”
Thanks.
10:45 p.m.
I was dancing backward when someone kicked my ankle really viciously. Buggering bums bugger. And also ouch. I looked round and there was Wet Lindsay and Astonishingly Dim Monica. They must have slimed in whilst I wasn’t looking. They were doing exceptionally crap dancing with their other crap mates from crap city.
I said to Lindsay, “Oy.”
And she came up to me still smiling in a really scary way and said, “Oh dear, you danced into my foot.”
And then she waved at Masimo. Who annoyingly nodded back and smiled.
Jas said, “Boy, does she hate you. You are dead meat. You live in dead meat city.”
Cheers, thanks a lot. Hurrah, another two happy years of Stalag 14 with a sadistic stick insect who hates me. I’ll be lucky to come out of school fully limbed.
The Stiff Dylans are on a break.
I am in a complete ditherspaz as to how to handle the situation. I can’t just be hanging around when Masimo comes offstage looking like goosegog of the century. I know what I’ll do: I’ll go and talk to Dave the Laugh, that will be cool. Also it will get me away from Jas and Tom, who seem to have lost their marbles. They keep looking at me and going into huddles and laughing like excited newts. Still no sign of Ro Ro and Sven.
I went over to the bar where I had last seen Dave. There he was, leaning against it, talking to his mates. Perfect. I was just about to go up to him when Emma appeared. Dave had his back to me, so he couldn’t see me, and Emma came up to him and kissed him on the cheek. And then in front of everyone he put his arms round her and gave her a proper snog. No mistaking it. Not just a cheeksie, but proper lip-on-lip action. I felt really sick to my stomach. When he eventually stopped kissing her, he put his arm around her waist and bought her a drink. It was like they were proper boyfriend and girlfriend. I was so shocked.
I turned to go to the tarts’ wardrobe and as I did Masimo came out of the dressing room. He saw me and smiled and started to walk over to me. Oh God, what should I do? What would a mate do? Smack him on the shoulder when he came over and do the Klingon salute? I don’t know, I don’t know.
I’ve never done mates with boys before.
There was only one thing for it. I looked at my watch and then looked surprised, slapped my head in the manner of someone who has forgotten an appointment, and then quickly walked to the tarts’ wardrobe.
in the tarts’ wardrobe
Shall I tell you why I looked surprised when I looked at my watch? I haven’t got a watch, that’s why.
one minute later
Also what sort of person has an appointment in the tarts’ wardrobe? An idiot, that is what kind of person.
A sad prat.
Me.
one minute later
I sat down on a loo with my head in my hands. What could be worse than this?
Jas and Mabs and Ellen came to find me in the loos. I told them what had happened.
Jas said, “Oh well, maybe something really NICE will happen.”
I said, “Yeah and maybe Hitler was really lovable, just misunderstood.”
Mabs said, “Er, I think there is something else you should know.”
Oh yeah, like what? I’ve been going round all night with my dress stuck in my knickers?
I said, “Go on then, what else could be worse than what is already happening? Oh I know, Wet Lindsay is with Masimo.”
At that point, Lindsay stormed into the tarts’ wardrobe with Monica trailing behind her.
Lindsay was all red faced and flustered and looked like she was going to cry. So there is a silver lining to every cloud.
Not.
She was saying to Monners, “How could he? Just turn up with some Italian bint? How could he?”
They went down the other end of the loos when they saw us.
I looked at Mabs. She said, “Ah well, yes, the other thing you should know.”
in the club
I had to see the full fiasco with my own peepers. Masimo was sitting at a table by the side of the stage and leaning in very close to one of the most lovely girls I have ever seen. I don’t say that because I want to, but she was—she was just lovely. She might even be a 10 and a half.
Word must have spread on the Radio Jas airwaves because Ellen came scuttling over and Jools and all of the gang. I must not cry.
Ellen said, “I just, you know, like, casually walked by and they are speaking in Pizza-a-gogo language.”
I was just frozen to the spot and couldn’t help looking at them. Masimo put his hand up to the Italian girls face and pushed back her hair.
I must go home.
I glanced across the room because I felt like everyone must know what a fool I was. I could see Dave the Laugh sitting at the bar with Emma. She was talking to Rollo and Dave had his arm round her. I don’t know why but he suddenly looked round and straight at me. Then he looked at where Masimo was sitting with the Italian girl. He said something to Emma and kissed her cheek. Oh good, more and more agony.
I must get out of here.
I said to Jas, “I’m going to go home now, Jas. I can’t stand this.”
She said, “No, no, please don’t go. Er…maybe something good will sort of happen.”
I looked at her, “Like what, Jas? The sprinkler system might go off?”
As I said that, I saw Wet Lindsay grabbing her coat and storming off into the night. She stropped past Masimo’s table but he didn’t even notice, he was still talking earnestly to his girlfriend. What a top night out this was turning out to be.
I said to the gang, “Well, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. I think it was when I
had to be rushed to hospital with scarlet fever. I’m going to have to go.”
As I went off for my coat, Dave the Laugh appeared. “Oh dear kittykat, what am I going to do with you?”
I just looked at him, and my eyes filled with tears.
He put his arm around me and I so wanted to just have him look after me.
But he had Emma, so I pulled myself together (ish). I must gird my loins with a firm hand. Remember my proud nautical heritage and the Bird of Avon’s example. As Sir Billy Shakespeare said in times of stress, “She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes.” I stepped back from Dave and then I heard a voice behind me say, “HOOOORRRN! Oh jah, HOOOORRRRRRN!!!”
tarts’ wardrobe
I was sitting on the loo AGAIN with my head in my hands (I practically live in here) when Rosie’s horns appeared under the door. Ro Ro said, “Why did you just run off like that?”
I replied, “Well, you’re used to Sven.”
Ro Ro said, “Good point, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, I was startled by his furry shorts.”
back in the club
Dave and his mates were gathered around Sven, admiring his shorts. The shorts were made out of bits of theatrical fur and a pair of old Y-fronts. Sven had completed his outfit with the bison horns and furry Doc Martens. And, uh…that was it!
Rosie was wearing a leather skirt and a sort of metallic-looking nunga-nunga holder made out of pan lids.
I said to her, “Why have you got one huge eyebrow?”
And she said, “This is a well-known Viking bridal outfit. Get your horns on!”
As Rosie shoved the horns on my head, Masimo appeared in front of me!!!
He looked at the horns and, after a few moments of gazing at them, he said a bit nervously, “Scusi, Georgia, may I speak with you?”
Oh great, now I was wearing horns and I was going to have to be mates with Masimo while he told me about his new girlfriend.
Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 07 Page 14
