‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’. Louise Rennison

      And another one said, “Can we see your breasts, please?”

      Good grief.

      Jas started flicking her fringe like a mad thing. “Now look what you’ve started.”

      We set off at a spanking space for Stalag 14. As we went along I was doing my special pleading – it’s very touching. “Jas, please forgive me. Did you find out anything? I know you will have done because you are so vair vair clever. And top girl at blodge and, er… everything.”

      As we took our coats to the cloakroom she relented a bit. “Well, I did talk to Tom in a casual way, even though you said I couldn’t.”

      “Jas, Jas, I knew you could do casualosity big time. Don’t forget I have seen you in your night-time panties, relaxing and at play.”

      As the bell rang for assembly I could see the Hitler Youth (prefects) approaching, keen to do a bit of poncing around like prats. I said, “Please, pleasey please tell me what Tom said.”

      “Well, he said…”

      “Yes, yes?”

      “Well, he said… he didn’t know anything.”

      “Pardon?”

      “Robbie is having a break from farming in Kiwi-a-gogo, but he doesn’t know how long he is staying.”

      Is that it? Is that Detective Inspector Jas of Scotland Yard’s idea of finding out stuff? I wanted to kick her shins, but just in the knickers of time remembered that she is my best pally and I gave her my “interested” smile.

      Jas was starting to say, “Yes, so I don’t really know if he likes you or not…” when Wet Lindsay slimed up alongside me with Astonishingly Dim Monica as sidekick slug and weed. Wet Lindsay’s hair extensions have been redone. How vair vair chav and naff she is. Having longer hair only draws attention to her lack of forehead and general octopus tendencies.

      I forced myself to laugh merrily and look at Wet Lindsay’s forehead as if Jas had told me a good joke about it. Wet Lindsay said to me, “What have you got to laugh about, Nicolson? Have you caught sight of yourself in a mirror?”

      Oh, my aching sides! How I laughed. Not. Astonishingly Dim Monica did, though, sniggering and snorting like a fool on fool tablets. I just said, “How very natural your hair looks, Lindsay. It really suits you and brings out all your best features, especially your knees.”

      She went a bit red round the earlobes and said, “Prat.”

      Charming. Absolutely charming. I said to Jas as we went into the hall, “Charming. Utterly, utterly charming. Who wouldn’t want to go out with her?”

      Ace Gang Headquarters

      Break

      Rosie blew a bubble-gum bubble that exploded all over her nose. Very amusing. She had a big blob hanging off her nose like a huge bogey. She said, “Look how it dangles about. I bet I can swing it round and round in time to some music. Like a snot disco. You lot sing something jolly and I’ll improvise on bogey work.”

      Five minutes later

      I think despite being slightly singed in the oven of luuurve I may be going to die of laughing. The snot disco dance is officially born. Danced to the tune of Eastenders, it is: Swing your snot to the left, swing to the right. Full turn, shoulder shrugging, now nod to the front, dangle, dangle, hands on shoulders and kick, kick to the right, dangle, dangle, kick, kick to the left, dangle, dangle, and then full snot around and shimmy to the ground.

      Excellent in every way.

      As we strolled back for an action-packed morning of being bored and depressed I said to the gang, “I bet we could have the snot coming out of our nostrils all through German and Herr Kamyer wouldn’t notice. Or if he does, we could pretend we have really bad colds. Hand over the bubble gum, girls, and get chewing!”

      German

      It was a triumph, darling, a triumph! We were all translating from our textbooks – what larks! The Koch family were off on another camping trip, taking an enormous amount of food with them, as usual. In our books there are hilariously bad illustrations of the Koch family, drawn by a blind person. Mrs Koch looks vair like Herr Kamyer in a frock. I never get tired of the Kochs. In fact, I am thinking of writing to the author of the textbook (A. Schmidt, no, I’m not joking) and asking where the Kochs live. I want to write a letter to them, thanking them for the endless hours of fun they have given us all.

      I put up my hand to ask a pressing Koch question. When Herr Kamyer noticed my hand blowing in the wind he said, “Jah, Georgia?”

      “Herr Kamyer, there is a strange-looking thing in one of the pictures of the Kochs. It looks like a very tiny poo on a plate. But that doesn’t seem right.”

      Herr Kamyer blinked through his moley glasses. “Ah, bring up ze picture, Georgia, und we will see.”

      I quicky attached my bubble-gum bogey as I pretended to sneeze into my hanky, and went up to his desk with the snot rag still covering my nose.

      Herr Kamyer didn’t notice. He is so interested in things; it’s tragic, really. He actually seems to believe that we want to learn things. I put the textbook down in front of him at the picture of the Kochs and pointed to the poo on a plate.

      “Ach so, Georgia, der spangleferkel… oh jah, I remember ven as a youngen ve vent into the voods camping, we would cook up the spangleferkel and sing our songs around ze campfire. The fun ve had camping. You vould have loved it, girls.”

      I still had my hankie out to disguise the bogey when he started humming, “Gif me ze campfire light und komt mit me to der liebe liebe Rhein” and took his glasses off to clean them. Or perhaps he was crying. Who knows? Who cares? Anyway, when he did that I took the opportunity to let the bogey run free and wild. I even did a bit of the bogey dance slightly behind him and managed to get the hanky back in place before he finished. When I walked back to my desk the whole class spontaneously clapped. Herr Kamyer thought it was for his crap camping song and bowed. Quite sensationally German.

      Five minutes later

      Sadly, Herr Kamyer really thinks we love his camping stories.

      He’s going on and on about what they did. How they sang songs and cooked over the campfire.

      Twenty minutes later

      Swapping notes. Rosie wrote:

      Dear fellow loons,

      Let us have a scoring system for bogey work. Gee gets 5 points for her excellent letting the bogey run free and wild over Herr Kamyer’s head. Similar acts earn 5 points and the first to get to 20 gets free Jammy Dodgers for life. Well, for a bit, anyway.

      Ro Ro, advisor to the stars

      xxxxx

      Of course there is always a dog in the manger of life. Jas wrote back and said it was silly and childish. Hilarious, really, coming from someone who practically snogs owls.

      Ellen was dithering about. Even in her notes. She wrote:

      Hi everyone, it’s me,

      Erm, about the snot disco, well, you know, I don’t know. Like, er, what if we, er, get into, er, like, trouble? What do you think… or something?

      Er… Ellen

      xxx

      On our way to French

      Jas and Ellen have formed their own little breakaway gang and they are living in a snot-free zone. They should grow up.