Are these my basoomas I see before me?. Louise Rennison

“Right, you lot, the headmistress’s office. NOW!”

      Oh no, not Slim.

      She frogmarched us off, chuntering on to ADM and giving me the evils every now and again. She just absolutely loves it times a million.

      If she can upset me, she’s made up.

      Jas said, “Oh, now I’ll never get to be a prefect. This is all your fault, Georgia. Again.”

      I said, “Er, I think you are the firestarter, crazy firestarter Jas.”

      Rosie said, “Do you think Slim will beat us to death with her chins?”

      As we sloped along at one mile an hour, we could hear Mr Attwood shouted into his walkie-talkie. “Z Victor I to B.D. Are you receiving me? Over.”

      Astonishingly barmy.

      Jools said, “Who is he talking to?”

      And I said, “He’s talking to Headquarters. And you know who that is, don’t you?”

      Ellen said, “No, I…er…is it…erm, is it, like…Headquarters or something?”

      We just looked at her.

      I said, “He is talking to the radio in his shed. And do you know who is listening? No one.”

      Outside Slim’s office I asked “permission” to go to the piddly-diddly department and Wet Lindsay came with me. Like I was going to escape through the loo window! Actually, I did do that once, but that is not the point. As I was in the cubicle, trying not to make any piddly-diddly noises because I didn’t want her to hear me, she said, “You really are the most appalling little tart, Georgia Nicolson. Robbie did the right thing dumping you and Masimo must be dying to get rid of you.”

      I started to say, “Actually, I think boys like girls with foreheads…”

      But she said, “Nicolson, if you don’t want to spend the rest of the term recovering from a very bad hockey injury, I advise you to SHUT UP right now.”

      As I walked back under armed guard, I thought, how could Robbie kiss her?

      Erlack.

      I think he must have clinical depression after I stopped going out with him. When she had been yelling at me, I could see right up her nostrils. Also she didn’t have mascara on and her eyelashes were like albino mouse eyelashes. No, they weren’t as nice as that; they were like duck eyelashes. And ducks don’t have eyelashes.

      I hate her times a million. When I get over enticing Masimo back into my web of luuurve, I will concentrate on ruining her life and saving Robbie.

      Outside Slim’s office Three minutes later The Little Titches, also known as the Dave the Laugh fanclub, were in the outer torture chamber with the Ace Gang when I got there. Wet Lindsay went off to get Elvis.

      I said, “Hello, Titches, what are you up for? GBH? Titchiness?”

      Ginger Titch said, “We were making up a tribute to Dave the Laugh in the loos.”

      And I said, “Where is the crime in that?”

      And the littlest one said, “We broke the loo seat with our stamping.”

      “There is no justice in this place. It squashes any sign of creativitosity.”

      The Little Titches nodded. Ginger said, “Miss, do you like Dave the Laugh the bestiest? We do.”

      All of the gang looked at me and I went a bit red.

      Jas said, “Yes, do you “accidentally” like Dave the Laugh, Georgia?”

      Ellen was looking and blinking and started saying, “Why would…I mean, what…Dave and…well, what is that…”

      Rosie started shouting “FIRE!! I’m gonna teach you to burn, FIRE!!” and doing whooshing and flame dancing when Slim opened her door suddenly and said, “I’m glad that you are all in such a jolly mood. Let’s see if we can change that. You two first-formers in my room, now.”

      The two Little Titches started to follow her. After her gigantic bottom had waddled off, they got to her door and looked round. I saluted them by putting my finger on my nose and making it stick up like a piggie.

      They saluted back and even did a little grunt.

      They are top girls for Little Titches.

      Five minutes later We could hear muffled shouting and then a bit of crying.

      Rosie said, “She is beating them with her chins.”

      God, if Slim was going to go ballistic over a loo seat, we were deffo going to get a severe mental thrashing.

      Then Wet Lindsay arrived, accompanied by Mr Attwood. In a wheelchair. What????

      Was he too lazy even to walk across the playground?

      A man in his physical condition should not be in charge of the safety of high-spirited youth.

      Or any people.

      Or anything.

      Wet Lindsay looked at me like I was snot in a skirt. It turned out that Elvis had slipped in his own foam and done his back in. I bet he hasn’t.

      He was moaning on for England, as usual.

      “How am I supposed to do my job now?”

      I was going to say, “Oh, you know, the usual way, sitting perving in your hut.”

      But I didn’t.

      He was rambling on.

      “You have no thought for others. When I was a boy, we had respect for our elders.”

      Moan moan. Here we go. It will be, “In my day we used to enjoy ourselves just by picking our own noses.”

      I said, “Well, as it happens, Elvis, er, I mean Mr Attwood, I agree with you. You are clearly too old to be working. It’s cruel. In fact, I am going to have a word with our headmistress and suggest she gives you the big goodbye you so richly deserve.”

      Wet Lindsay had her usual spazerama attack.

      She said, “Shut up and grow up!”

      Charming.

      Slim’s office Oh, I am soooo bored with being told off. It is giving me the megadroop. I should be at home glamming myself up for the Luuurve God and practising my new sophisticosity. Just in case he forgives me. Instead of which I am in an office counting chins.

      Slim was completely jelloid. In fact, her whole body was having a chin-a-thon. Of course, it was me who got it in the neck. As if I started the bloody fire. I just did a bit of whooshing.

      Slim said, “It’s always you, isn’t it, Georgia? What happened this time? Is it another miscarriage of justice?”

      Well, at least she was being reasonable for once.

      I said, “Well actually, Miss, yes it is. You see it was minus 50 outside and we were terribly cold, so I mean we, decided to use our woodland skills that we learned on our magnificent camping trip with Herr Kamyer and…”

      Slim looked at me.

      “You mean you set fire to some rubbish in the fives court.”

      I said, “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

      Mr Attwood lurched to life.

      “I’m in agony, Headmistress, because of an act of senseless arson. By arsonists.”

      I don’t know what it is about the word arse-onists, but it does give me the inward hysteria. Mr Attwood had more or less said “arse” in front of Slim. I daren’t look at Rosie.

      Slim