‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’. Louise Rennison

is sooo unfair.”

      “Why?”

      Outside the front-room door 9:10 p.m.

      Right, this is it. I’ve got my old Teletubbies jimjams on for maximosity on the loveablenosity front.

      Front room

      Mutti and Vati were on the sofa, curled round each other. I could clearly see Mum’s knickers. Erlack. And the curtains were open; anyone could see in. A fat bloke passing by might think it was a brothel for the porkier gentleman. I was going to say that but then I remembered my prongs. So I said, “Good evening, Mother, Father.”

      Vati said, “How much?” without even looking at me. I laughed attractively.

      “Oh, Papa, this is not a material matter, it’s to do with friendship and love and—”

      Mum said, “I don’t care how many of your friends have had their navels pierced. You are not.”

      “But I—”

      But she was still rambling on. “Ditto tattoos.”

      “But I—”

      Vati joined in. “And no, you cannot have a flat in Paris and a manservant to help with your homework.”

      Oh, how I nearly laughed. Not. I thought about telling Dad that Rosie said he looked like a brothel madam in his flying helmet and leather jacket, but then I remembered my charm prong and forced a little grin to play around my mouth.

      “You two!!! Always kidding about you cheeky minxes! Anyway, all it is really is that, well…you know…Jas is all miz because of Tom going to Kiwi-a-gogo and, well…You know she’s my pal, and…well…it would be nice for me if you know…anyway, can she?”

      Vati said, “Can she what? Move in? Levitate? What?”

      I bit the whatsit. “Can she come with us to Hamburger-a-gogo land?”

      10:00 p.m.

      Both of our parents have said yes. Unbelievable. Actually, I am not that amazed that Jas’s parents said yes because they are, on the whole, not entirely mad. But my parents?

      Weird.

      It is a miracle for which I would normally thank Jesus. He does seem to be coming up trumps lately. I left Robbie to the snogging possums but then Jesus sent me a replacement Luuurve God. Hurray! As I say, I would normally thank him personally by laying gifts at his feet (or foot, actually, because one of his feet snapped off), however there is a bit of a problem. Libby has been rifling around in my room and she has nicked my statue of him. I’m afraid Jesus has not quite been himself since. The last time I saw him he had a frock on and Libby was calling him “Sandra”, Barbie’s new bestest pal.

      I don’t think God will hold it against us, as he is, after all, a merciful God.

      10:10 p.m.

      Unless you happen to be that snake in the Garden of Eden. Snakey only asked, “Anyone fancy a bit of apple?” and then God made him crawl around on his belly for eternity. Seems a bit harsh. (Although, as I pointed out to Miss Wilson in our interesting talks in RE, if you were a snake in the first place, being made to crawl around on your belly for the rest of your days doesn’t actually seem that bad. Almost like being a snake in fact. I mean this with all reverencosity. I just have a lively mind.)

      Oooohhhhh, I am so excited. I can’t wait to tell the Ace Gang.

      I even kissed my own father AGAIN. This is twice in two days. I must be a bit feverish.

      In my bedroom

      Libby, Gordy, Sandra and Barbie are all snoozing. They look so lovely and cosy. Our Lord, now heavily rouged, is next to Libby’s feet. I don’t know why she likes to sleep upside down. Perhaps because it is very scary waking up to see Gordy looking cross-eyed at you.

      I looked out the window as I did my alternate nostril breathing. It is vair vair calming. You pinch one nostril closed and then breathe in through the other one, and then hold your breath and let the pinched-up one go and breathe out of that. And then you…well, anyway…all I can say is that the Lord Buddha did it, and he didn’t just do it for nothing.

      One minute later

      I hope it’s not like body building. I don’t want to be really calm and have massive nostrils.

      Two minutes later

      For once Mr Next Door has done something nice. He has built a sort of anti-cat fence on the top of his wall made out of barbed wire. Angus will really like it. He gets a bit bored with leaping down on to the Prat Poodles and riding them round. He is the sort of cat who needs a bit of a challenge.

      Five minutes later

      Oh, here comes Supercat with Naomi. With his head up her bottom as ususal.

      One minute later

      Aha! He has removed his head and he has seen the new fencey. He luuurves the fencey.

      Four minutes later

      Old Nimble Paws did this beyond-fabby thing. He did a vertical jump! From standing on the wall he just shot straight up in the air and over the fence.

      Five minutes later

      Angus is really getting into it now. He leaps over the anti-cat fence and then comes back into our garden by hurling himself through Mr Next Door’s rhododendron bush. Excellent! He has made it into a track-and-field event. It is quite literally the Cat Olympics.

      Five minutes later

      I would prefer it if Naomi stuck to the usual giving of medals ceremony rather than licking Angus’s trouser-snake area, but there you are – that is appalling furry tarts for you.

      Monday May 9^th

      The crack of 8:00 a.m.

      Crikey. I’d better not get carried away with happiness, otherwise I will be on time for school, or Stalag 14 as I so amusingly call it.

      8:25 a.m.

      Lolloping along to Jas’s place, I had to pass by Mark Big Gob smoking on the corner with his lardy mates. He is quite literally a mouth on legs. Sadly he seems to have recovered his former (crap) self after the minor duffing-up incident with Dave the Laugh.

      He just can’t help himself, especially when, like now, he has the backup lardy lads with him. As I walked by in a dignified manner, trying not to let anything jiggle about, BG and the lard arses were just ogling my nungas like ogling oglers (if you can imagine the horror of that, and I think you can). Then he licked his lips! Erlack, he was licking his lips at me!

      He is so très pathetico.

      I may have to ask Dave to repeat the duffing-up incident.

      Five minutes later

      Jas was on her wall. I don’t know what she had for breakfast but she has put on about twelve stone. Either that or her knickers have reached elephantine size.

      When she jumped down, I saw it was because she had her skirt rolled over so much that she looked like a melon with a head and an annoying fringe in a school uniform.

      She said, “My mum and dad want to come round to yours to talk about the arrangements.”