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Table of Contents

The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson:

Chapter 1 - You know you luuurve it, you cheeky Fräulein!

Chapter 2 - Elepoon in your nick-nacks

Chapter 3 - FIRE!!! I’m gonna teach you to burn!

Chapter 4 - Suddenly he got his maracas out

Chapter 5 - My tights runneth over

Chapter 6 - How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love With You

Chapter 7 - Slim’s snogging lecture

Chapter 8 - Sven finds his inner Woman (unfortunately)

Chapter 9 - I may have a slight fence burn

Chapter 10 - Whey-heyyyy!!

Chapter 11 - Just call me Pongo

Chapter 12 - Twits in Tights Fiasco

Chapter 13 - Rom and Jule: the tragedy (you’re not kidding, mate)

A Note from Georgia

Georgia’s Glossary

The Having the Hump Scale

The Snogging Scale

Great Mates Scale

Copyright

About the Publisher

The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson:

Angus, thongs and full-frontal snogging

‘It’s OK, I’m wearing really big knickers!’

‘Knocked out by my nunga-nungas.’

‘Dancing in my nuddy-pants!’

‘…and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’

‘…then he ate my boy entrancers.’

‘…startled by his furry shorts!’

‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’

‘Stop in the name of pants!’

‘Are these my basoomas I see before me?’

Also available on tape and CD:

‘…and that’s when it fell off in my hand.’

‘…then he ate my boy entrancers.’

‘…startled by his furry shorts!’

‘Luuurve is a many trousered thing…’

‘Stop in the name of pants!’

‘Are these my basoomas I see before me?’

You know you luuurve it, you cheeky Fräulein!

Sunday September 18th 9:00 a.m. Why. Oh why oh why?

9:02 a.m. Why me?

9:03 a.m. And I’ll just say this. Why?

9:04 a.m. One minute, I am the girlfriend of a Luuurve God, skipping around like a Sex Kitty on kittykat tablets and the next minute I am at Poo College, in Pooford. Doing a degree in Poonosity and Merde.

9:10 a.m. Masimo, my Pizza-a-gogo Luuurve God, stropped off with the megahump last night. Not even stopping to say goodbye-io, or whatever they say in Pizza-a-gogo land. I may never know now.

9:12 a.m. Why? Why oh why oh why?

9:13 a.m. Just because I did a bit of harmless twisting with Dave the Laugh at the Stiff Dylans gig.

That’s all.

9:15 a.m. Is doing the twist such a crime?

Why would you get the Humpty Dumpty about that?

9:16 a.m. I wouldn’t mind, but he doesn’t even know about the accidental snogging Dave the Laugh in the forest of red-bottomosity incident. Which I will never be mentioning this side of the grave.

9:17 a.m. If he gets the numpty about a bit of twisting, what number on the Having the Hump Scale would he get to for accidental snogging?

9:18 a.m. Perhaps Masimo has only got the overnight hump with me and he will be calling me soon.

9:30 a.m. Oh joy unbounded. My vati has come barging into MY room. Which to be frank isn’t big enough for him and his bottom.

I am pretending to be asleep.

Thirty seconds later The gros vater said, “Quickly, quickly rise and shine.”

I said, “Erm…Vati…it is Vati, isn’t it? Can you go away and I will pretend I haven’t noticed you breaking into my room without permission. Which incidentally you will never get. Goodbye.”

He came over and ruffled my hair, which is technically assault. I could get on the blower to ChildLine.

Dad was still going on and on in his dadtastic way. As he ripped back my curtains, nearly blinding me, he was rubbing his hands together and saying, “Come on, let’s have some family fun. Put your wellies on-we’re off to the bird sanctuary.”

That woke me up. He is deffo getting madder by the minute. And also he is wearing tight jeans. Surely there is some sort of law about that.

I said, “Dad, I am far too busy to go and look at budgies. Besides, I have seen one.”

He didn’t take any notice and went off. “I’ll be revving up the funmobile. See you in five.”

He was whistling “Sex bomb, sex bomb, I’m a sex bomb”. Pornographic whistling. I will probably be scarred for life.

Five minutes later Oh, the embarrassmentosity of having a dad. He is revving up his clown “car”. It sounds like a fat bloke revving up a sewing machine. Which it is really. He has painted a racing stripe down the side of his three-wheeled Reliant Robin. Even Grandad overtook the clown car the other day, and he wasn’t even on his bike. He was just walking quite briskly. That is how pathetico the Robinmobile is.

One minute later Anyway, how can I be expected to go look at budgies when I may once more be a dumpee on the rack of luuurve.

Four minutes later Mum came mumming in.

I said, “Before you start, I’m not coming to look at budgies and that is le fact.”

She said, “Hang on a minute, what are you doing here?”

I said, “Er, I live here.”

She said, “You were supposed to be staying at Jas’s though.”

“Well…she was a bit…tired.”

“You fell out then?”

“Maybe.”

“What did you do to upset her?”

Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it? Nice and supportive.

“It was Saint Jas’s fault actually, if you must know. She was the one who told me to do something when Masimo and Dave the Laugh nearly had fisticuffs at dawn. And then when I did do something she got the mega hump and a half with me and stropped off.”

Mum came and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh Lord, now she had got interested. Drat.

She said, “Dave and Masimo were fighting?”

“Sort of.” “Why?”

“I don’t know. Because I did a bit of ad-hoc twisting with Dave, and Masimo got the hump.”

“So what did you do to stop them?”

“Well. I stepped in the middle of them and told them not to be silly.”

Mum looked at me. “What did you actually say?” “Stop in the name of pants.”

Mum just looked at me again. She is like a seeing-eye dog.

I bumbled on. “But then Rosie started singing that crap song from The Sound of Music-‘The hills are alive with the sound of PANTS, with PANTS I have worn for a thousand years.’ And the Ace Gang joined in and…”

“And?”

“Then Masimo just looked at me and he walked off. And not in a good way. In a having the full Humpty Dumpty way.”

10:30 a.m. The budgie lovers’ “advice” is: “Don’t be such a childish arse in future.”

Thank you for that.

10:40 a.m. At least I have the house to myself for a mope-a-thon. The Swiss Family Mad have roared off down the drive at three miles an hour. They’ll be at the end of our street by tomorrow if they’re lucky and have a following wind.

10:45 a.m. I’m not phoning Jas because she was so grumpy with me last night for no reason.

Five minutes later I think I may hate her actually.

Two minutes later So in a nutshell. My so-called bestie hates me and thinks I am the Whore of Babylon and my boyfriend may hate me, even though he doesn’t know the reason why he should hate me.

Six minutes later It is sooooo boring moping.

11:10 a.m. Masimo still hasn’t phoned me. I can’t stand this silence a moment longer. I am going to call an emergency Ace Gang meeting.

11:30 a.m. Rang Jools, Ellen, Rosie, Mabs and Honor.

11:45 a.m. I have arranged to meet the Ace Gang, with the exception of you know who, at 2:00 p.m. in the park. I wanted to meet at mine, but the rest of them want to watch the footie match. They are obsessed with boys.

11:50 a.m. I am just going to tell them all the whole truth and see what they say. Just come clean about the whole situation. Make a fresh start with my bestie mates. Truth is, after all, the cornerstone of friendship.

11:52 a.m. Well, when I say the whole truth, I will obviously not be mentioning the thing that I am not mentioning this side of the grave. And which I have forgotten about, to tell you the truth.

1:30 p.m. I seem to be working my way through the famous “losing it” scale. I have gone from merely having a spaz attack to being now on the edge of a complete nervy b. What if Masimo is actually at the footie match and ignores me?

What can I do?

I ask myself the question, “What would Baby Jesus do in these circumstances?”

One minute later Of course! I must make myself irresistible to the Luuurve God by applying as much mascara as is humanly possible.

1:32 p.m. When I went into the bathroom, Angus was sitting on the loo seat. He just looked at me when I came in and then half shut his eyes, like a halfwit cat.

I said, “Oy, what are you doing in here?”

He yawned and then he put his paw on the loo handle. Like he was flushing it.

What fresh hell?

Surely he isn’t pooing in the loo?

He jumped down and skittered off out at about a million miles an hour. How weird.

I wonder if being run over has affected his brain.

Mind you, I read about the Moscow State Circus and they’ve got some cats who can pull a carriage and play chess at the same time.

Maybe I could get Angus a job in the Russian circus displaying his pulling-the-loo-handle skills.

The Russian volk might quite like that.

You never know.

1:40 p.m. Oh, bloody hell, he’s been in my make-up bag again.

Why would a cat eat lip gloss?

1:45 p.m. OK, I am ready to get entrancing and alluring. I am wearing jeans and a skinny jummie, and because I am off to watch a footie match, I’ve put my hair into a little ponytail. Très sportif. It gives me a casual, sporty air.

I may wear my shades to add to my mysterious “uuumph” quality.

1:46 p.m. Just a hint of “uuumph” but not ummphy in the “oy, you slaaaag” sort of way.

2:10 p.m. When I arrived at our usual meeting place underneath the big chestnut tree, Sven and Rosie were there. Practically eating each other. Do they ever stop snogging?

Rosie knew I was there because she waved her hand at me.

Eventually, I went: “Hellllooooooo” for a bit until they came up for air.

Rosie took out her chuddie and said, “Bonsoir, sensation-seeker.”

Sven leaped to his feet and picked me up (thank God I had my jeans on) and started carrying me around singing, “Oh ja, oh ja! The hills are alive wiv zer pants, hahaha, oh ja pants!!!”

I said to Rosie, who was reapplying her lippy, “Rosie, make him put me down…” Rosie said, “Down, boy.”

He put me down and licked Rosie’s face before he ambled off like Lug the Larger to the footie field.

I said to her, “How does this happen? One minute I’ve got more boyfriends than I can shake a stick at and the next minute I am the Leper of Rheims.”

Rosie looked at me and put her armey round me. “Would you like to sit on my knee for a bit? You like that.”

I just looked at her.

Five minutes later Jools, Mabs, Hons and Ellen arrived.

The meeting began with the official passing around of the Midget Gems. Then we discussed how to make Masimo stop having the hump and start having the Horn.

Twenty minutes later This is our cunning plan.

I have to be nice.

That is it.

I have to be nicey girl on legs for as long as it takes to make Masimo luuurve me again.

The Ace Gang is going to help by only saying really, really nice things about me.

There was a bit of a verging on the “mentioning the thing that I will not be mentioning this side of the grave” when Ellen said, “Masimo, I mean, he like…well, he got the hump when…er…the twisting, or maybe Dave the Laugh or something…erm.”

Jools said, “Ah yes, he didn’t like you dancing like a fool with Dave the Laugh, did he?”

Mabs said, “It’s his hot Pizza-a-gogo blood. They get vair jealous.”

Rosie said, “You might have to eschew Dave the Laugh with a firm hand for a bit.”

OK, well, I can knock it on the head laaarfwise with the Hornmeister.

It’s a shame. But ho hum pig’s bum.

Two minutes later But what if I don’t even get the chance to be nicey-nice girl?

What if Masimo doesn’t get in touch with me again?

I fear the tensionosity will drive me to not only having a complete nervy b. but I might also go ballisticisimus.

2:45 p.m. The lads are arriving, getting their boots on and shouting WUBBISH. They don’t seem to be able to just say “Hello” to each other. It’s all “Aaaaaaah, you’re shit!” and “On my head.” “Hello, you complete tosser.” Quite, quite weird. No sign of Dave the Laugh-perhaps he’s not playing today. Just as well really.

2:50 p.m. Sven has put two footballs down the front of his shirt and is swaying around like a girl. A girl nearly two metres tall, with massive hairy legs and the beginnings of a goatee.

Rosie said, “I think I’m on the turn. Svenetta is bringing out my inner lesbian.”

Oh good, everyone has gone bonkers. Excellent.

I said, “Rosie, will you promise not to mention your inner lezzie if Masimo turns up?”

Rosie winked at me. “I’ll try, but don’t you start waggling your nungas about, you little minx.”

Do you see what I mean? This is exactly what I am trying to avoid.

Five minutes later Dom, Edward, Rollo, Declan, Sven and two others of the Stiff Dylans are all running around “limbering up”. Meanwhile, it’s Cosmetic Headquarters behind our tree. In principal, I think you should be loved for yourself, and your soul shines through even if you haven’t got mascara on. I know this is what Baby Jesus says and he is renowned for never having worn mascara. So, in principal, I think you should just be yourself, but in practice, I am applying just a tad more mascara.

Speaking of which, Ellen is in such a ditherama about seeing Declan that she has actually got some mascara on her teeth. How?

Two minutes later Jas’n’Tom have turned up.

Oh yes. Here comes Miss Prissy Knickers herself. And her boyfriend, Hunky. She caught sight of us and shouted over, “Hi, Rosie, hi, Ellen, Mabs, Jools, Hons…”

She deliberately didn’t say hello to me. How childish.

Two could play at that game.

I shouted out, “Hi, Hunky!” Tom waved at me and went off.

Then I noticed that Jas was not alone. She had brought two of her stuffed owls with her. And they had got little football hats and scarves on.

How pathetico.

I shouted, “Hello, owls!”

Hahahaha. I had said hello to her owls and she couldn’t stop me.

Yessssss! One-nil to me!!!!!!

Nearly kick-off The other team were from St Pat’s and quite fit boys as it happens. If you like quite fit boys.

I was just having a Midget Gem to calm me down and my back was to the road when I heard a scooter approaching. It might be the Luuurve God. I got immediate knee tremblers and jelloid knickers. But I must not expose my jelloid knickers-I must exude sophisticosity. How do you do sophisticosity without turning round?

Perhaps if I tightened my bum-oley muscles that might make for a better profile rear-wise?

No, that might look like I needed a poo.

I’ll just not turn round and leave it at that.

I heard the scooter come to a halt and I said to Rosie, “What’s going on?”

And she said, “It’s Robbie and he’s got something hideous clinging to his back.”

I looked round and Wet Lindsay was on the back of his scooter.

They got off and Robbie looked across and smiled at me. I smiled back to him. Lindsay had her head down, looking in her bag. I said to Rosie, “That bag over her head quite suits her.”

What was she doing?

We watched as Robbie got his footie boots on. He is certainly in tip-top condition. It is such a waste for him to be with the Bride of Dracula. Lindsay brought out a towel and a water bottle from her bag and handed it to Robbie.

Ten Seconds later She was massaging his neck. Blimey! Has she turned into some sort of Octopussy handmaiden?

I said to the gang, “I bet she comes scampering on with the half-time oranges tucked down her bra. There is enough room…She’s probably got a packed lunch in there.”

Which is a fact. Surely Robbie must know about her false basooma fiasco?

Erlack! I have accidentally got parts of Wet Lindsay in my brain.

I feel dirty. It was nearly kick-off time. I was behind the tree looking over at the lads and noticed that Dave the Laugh was still missing.

“I wonder where Dave the Laugh is?”

And a voice behind me said, “Why? Are you longing for the Hornmeister, you naughty Kittykat?”

I looked round and there he was, lurking like a lurker and looking very cool in his black training stuff. He was twinkly round the eyes and said to the gang, “The vati has arrived. Now we can groove.”

Ellen’s head practically dropped off with redness. She still luuurves him even though she is going out with Declan.

Dave said, “Well, I’d love to stay swapping make-up hints with you girls, but there are arses to kick.”

As he was going by me, I said, “Erm…Dave, would you give me a call? I want to ask you something.”

He looked at me. “If you are hoping to entice me into rummachen unterhalb der Taille, I have told you before, you are embarrassing yourself.”

Oooohhhhh, he is sooo annoying.

The lads were yelling at him, “Oy, Dave, get a wriggle on, mate!!”

Dave started humming the theme from Match of the Day and jogging off backwards, waving at us. Then he turned towards the team and started doing run run leap like a mad gazelle. When he was a few metres from them, he did slow-motion running with his arms outstretched and his team started doing the same towards him. When they reached each other, they had a minor ruck.

Boys never cease to amaze me, never.

I wonder if he will phone me though? Masimo hasn’t turned up. Perhaps he already has a new girlfriend.

Half time Dave’s team are winning one-nil. I’d like to say it is down to superior skill, but largely it’s because Sven fell on to the St Pat’s goalkeeper and the ball went over the line. St Pat’s protested, but it’s pointless arguing with Sven. He took the player who was arguing with him and lifted him off his feet and kissed him on the mouth.

The bloke was nearly sick, but he shut up and the goal counted.

Wet Lindsay did have half-time oranges. Sadly not down her bra.

But even so, half-time oranges. How crap is that? Vair vair crap.

Three minutes later I went and stood really near to Jas. She ignorez-voused me. So I gave a pretendy piece of half-time chocolate to one of her owls. She snatched her owly away.

Tom was there and he said, “Oh, come on, you two. Put your handbags down. Come on, Jas, speak to Georgia.”

She said, “Who?”

And went off flicking her fringe to speak to Emma, who turned up to hang around Dave. Jas has only known Emma for about a minute and a half. I do hate her. It’s official.

She should be on my side in my time of neednosity.

After all I have done for her.

I said that to the Ace Gang as the second half started. I said, “She is ignorez-vousing me after all I have done for her.” Ellen dithered into life (unfortunately) and said, “Er…what, erm, what have you, erm, done like, for her?” Where to begin?

I said, “For a start, I have put up with her stupid fringe-flicking for about a million years.”

But it was pointless trying to get anyone’s attention because they were all acting like divs in front of their boyfriends.

5:15 p.m. I thought I might have to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on Ellen when Declan asked her to the cinema at the end of the match. Well, actually, I say “asked,” but what happened is that he nodded his head at her and she trotted over to him like puppy dog girl. It was like a horrible love fest at the end.

I would have more pridenosity with my boyfriend. If I had a boyfriend.

6:00 p.m. All alone at home.

Phone rang. I nervously picked it up, but it was only Mum telling me that they are at Grandvati’s for tea and did I want to go over. Is she mad?

6:02 p.m. The rest of the gang have gone to the cinema. With their boyfriends. Not even a thought for my tragicosity. Well, to be fair, they did ask me to go, but I would have just been goosegog girl among the snoggers.

6:15 p.m. Angus seems to understand what I am going through. He has leaped up on to my lap.

Nice.

Aaaah. He’s purring.

Really loudly actually.

Nice though.

All comfy and warmy.

One minute later Now he’s snuggling into me.

Nice.

He’s all cosy on my knee and I can read my Vogue.

One minute later He’s snuggling into my chest now, which is nice, but a bit difficult for me to move my arms.

But he’s all comfy and…

Now he’s on my shoulders, like a fur cape.

He’s settled down now-that’s nice. He’s doing his snuggling and purring.

One minute later Now he’s back on my lap…he’s actually on my magazine now.

One minute later Now he’s back on my chest.

I CAN’T STAND ANY MORE OF THIS!!!!!!

Five minutes later It’s no use him just staring at me through the window. I’m not letting him in.

Three minutes later Staring and staring.

I’m going into the kitchen to see if there is anything to stave off scurvy.

Two minutes later Now he’s staring in through the kitchen window.

6:30 p.m. He can’t stare at me in the bathroom because there is frosted glass. Hahahahaha.

He’d better not burrow in through the sewage system and pop up out of the loo.

No calls from anyone.

Not Masimo, not Dave the Laugh.

Too busy with his girlfriend I suppose.

Really, I’m too upset and tired to do my beauty routine, but as someone once said, possibly on Big Brother, “When the going gets tough, the tough get moisturising and plucking.”

If I am once again going to be spinster of the parish, I will at least be smoothy smooth.

In the bathroom What does Dad do with his razors? They are so blunt! I’ve torn my legs to ribbons. I look like I’ve been playing hockey with the Piranha family. Ouchy ouch ouch!!!

And ouch.

I must staunch the flow. I’ve probably lost an armful of blood already.

Phone rang Oh my giddy god’s pyjamas. I hobbled over with my legs covered in bits of loo paper and picked up the receiver. I tried for a casual, nonchalant sort of voice, one that didn’t sound like I was bleeding to death.

“Hello.”

“Hello, you cheeky Fräulein. You know you love it.”

It was Dave. Oh, I felt so happy I wanted to cry.

He said, “So what’s up, Kittykat?”

And I started.

“After you went on Saturday night, the Luuurve God got on his huffmobile.”

Dave said, “And he didn’t say anything?”

“No, he just looked at me all sort of sad.”

“Was he crying?”

“Er no.”

“Probably worried his mascara would run.”

“Dave.”

“I’m just being jovial Dave the Biscuit to lighten the mood.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m too upset.”

“Look, Georgia, this is a bit tricky for me. There’s Emma and well…”

“Well what? I’m only asking you to be like the Hornmeister and tell me what to do.”

There was a pause and then he said, “OK, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll casually bump into him…”

“And not mention pants or anything.”

“No, I will leave pants out of it. I’ll just say that there is nothing going on to have a girlie tizz about and…”

“You won’t actually say the girlie tizz thing, will you?”

“Right, er well, I’ll say…well, I don’t know exactly what I will say, just that we were having a laugh because…that’s what mates do.”

“And that’s true, isn’t it?”

There was another little pause and then Dave said, “Yeah, well, listen, I have to go now.”

And he was gone.

Had that gone well?

If so, why did I feel so funny?

10:30 p.m. No call from Masimo.

10:32 p.m. Still, on the bright side, we’ve got a budgie.

10:40 p.m. Not for long I suspect. Angus and Gordy have been staring at it since Vati brought it home from the birdy sanctuary.

Midnight If anyone can fix it, it’s the Hornmeister. I must get the Luuurve God back. It means everything to me.

I hadn’t even been able to properly show off that I was his girlfriend before I was maybe dumped.