The Kissing Game. Jean Ure

      E is for eyeful

      When Lucy walks by.

      “Get a load of that!”

      The lads all cry.

      I have become a sex fiend! My mind is like a sewer. I cannot stop thinking about boobs and bras and cup sizes.

      I have got to kiss someone soon!

      I have got to kiss Lucy …

      I am practising, for when she lets me. I have discovered that if you make a fist and kiss the finger and thumb bit, it feels like lips. Well, sort of. I mean, you have to use your imagination. But I feel it is essential to get some experience before I do it with Lucy. Stuart Sprague says it is very easy to miss, especially if you close your eyes, which he says a lot of people automatically do.

      Then instead of pressing lips to lips you find you’re pressing lips to eyebrows or lips to nose. So now, every night, I am making a fist and pretending it is Lucy. I am even doing the tongue bit! Though Stuart Sprague says that this is a very advanced form of kissing and should not be attempted on your first go.

      “Best get to know ’em,” he says, “before you try that.”

      I think probably Stuart knows what he is talking about. He has kissed more than twenty girls!!!

      Bones wanted me to ask him what a bosom felt like, so I did, but he rolled his eyes and said, “Man, I can’t tell you! I don’t have the words. A bosom has to be experienced to be believed.”

      I would like to experience a bosom. I think I am becoming obsessed.

      Today on the way home I had this mad urge to climb up the statue of Queen Victoria in the High Street and touch her tits. This is scary!

      Suppose I go mad and lose control of myself? I could be locked up!

      On Tuesday, in PSHE, we did role playing. Mothers and fathers! Kelvin Clegg had to be sent out. I really hoped I’d get Lucy for a partner, but Carrie Pringle grabbed me instead. She got in just ahead of Harmony Hynde, who I could see was making for me.

      My first thought was that if I couldn’t have Lucy I’d sooner have Carrie than be stuck with Harmony, who is acting rather too bold for my liking. But now I am not so sure. Carrie is almost as bad-tempered as my sister. I think she may be a man-hater. Bones said, “She’s scary, that one!”

      Bones is right. She’s a terrible person! Mrs Petty gave all the boys a bean bag to hold. A bean bag with a nappy. She said, “This is your new-born baby. I want you to look after it.”

      Kelvin Clegg immediately chucked his baby at the wall bars (we were doing it in the gym). That was when he was sent out. I think he was under the impression he was being funny, but lots of the girls sucked their breath in and old Carrie, she makes this angry hissing noise in my ear. Harmony says, “He could get life for that,” and Carrie goes, “Yeah! Dead right!”

      Mrs Petty said that we would address the issue of male violence another day, and told us to get on with looking after our offspring.

      Carrie started in on me straight away.

      “You idiot! Don’t hold it like that! It’s a baby, not a bean bag … well, support its head, for goodness’ sake! A new-born baby can’t be expected to support itself, can it? Don’t you know anything? You’d better watch me making a bottle for it. Are you watching? There, I’ve made it. Now I’m going to give it to you to give to the baby. Well, go on! Give it to him! Now you can burp him. I said, burp him! Don’t you even know how to burp him? Honestly, you’re pathetic! Give him back and I’ll show you … there! He’s done it. Now I’m going to go shopping and leave you alone with him. This is a test, to see if you can manage.”

      When she got back from shopping she claimed she could hear the baby crying. She said, “Are you deaf, or what? Poor little thing! It needs its nappy changed.”

      I said, “How do you know?”

      “Because I can smell it!” she snapped.

      While I was changing the bean bag’s nappy, Mrs Petty came over. She nodded approvingly and said, “Well done, Salvatore!” But Carrie huffed and puffed and said, “Some father you’d make! Don’t know the first thing!”

      Actually, I think I did quite well. Bones dropped his one, and Stuart Sprague put his one on the floor and then went and trod on it. I said, “Squashed baby!” Carrie didn’t even smile. She said, “Men!”

      I’m really glad it’s Lucy that I fancy and not Carrie. Bones reckons she’s a Lesbian.

      F is for flob

      Meaning cob from the gob.

      It’s also for fart

      Called by Cockneys jam tart.

      This is a rather childish sort of rhyme but I think I have to be allowed to express the carefree side of my nature now and again. My life has suddenly become deadly serious. My whole future is at stake. I’m not joking! If my love life is not sorted by the time I reach Z, I shall know for sure there is something wrong with me.

      Today is Saturday. An important day in the letters of my alphabet. I went out with Lucy!!! Well, when I say out … it wasn’t a date, exactly. What happened was, I sort of bumped into her, accidentally by chance, in the shopping centre. Well, when I say chance … it wasn’t entirely chance. I have to be honest. I knew she was going to be there. I heard her talking to Sharleen Oates in the bus queue on Friday.