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“Night-night, Ginger. I lobe you.”

      Ooohhh. At least she loves me.

      Then she whispered, “Ginger, I poo my jimjams, oh dear.”

      Midnight

      After emergency removal of my pooey sister, I eventually snuggled down into my bed of pain alone. Not entirely alone because there is a bit of a residual pong and Sandra/Jesus is still in bed with me.

      2:00 a.m.

      Woke up from a dream.

      I dreamt that I had a conversation with Jesus. He had the hump because he didn’t like his frock and he said his lipstick didn’t suit his complexion. It brought out the orange in it.

      I wonder if it is a message from my subconscious that I must be more religious?

      Monday June 20th

      8:00 a.m.

      The Portly One (Vati) yelled up, “Georgia, up NOW! You’ve got five minutes to get your bum down here.”

      Oh, he is so crude. And how dare he take my bum’s name in vain?

      My delightful little sister unexpectedly burst into my room to collect Sandra. She was wearing a see-through plastic Pacamac and some tiny tiny pants that she must have had when she was a baby. Or, more likely, she has nicked them from a poor unfortunate child at playschool. I must tell Mutti to remind the mothers not to leave their toddlers unattended when Libby’s around. She came over, quite slowly because the tiny pants were making her walk with small steps, got into bed with me and grabbed Our Lord and started to cuddle him.

      I said, “I’m getting up for school now, Bibbs.”

      She said, “Snuggle buggle.”

      We had a bit of a cuddle and I kissed the top of her head. Is it normal to be able to snack on Rice Krispies from your little sister’s head?

      Mutti came bustling in wearing a costume designed for a teenage prostitute. “Georgia, GET UP! It’s ten past eight. You’ll be late.”

      I said, “Late for what? Six hours of misery at Stalag 14 being tortured by the Hitler Youth, followed by twelve hours of extreme boredom and starvation at home?”

      She didn’t even listen. She said, “Don’t be so silly. You are such a drama queen.”

      Is everyone’s life like this?

      Cleaning my tushy pegs

      Ten minutes later

      I wish it was Friday and I could just get it all over with. Masimo comes round and says, “I am sorry, Georgia, I cannot be your one and only one. How do you say in English language? Ah, yes… so long, loser. Loser, loser, double loser, snap snap get the picture?”

      Then I could just go back to being ordinarily bored and depressed.

      One minute later

      I grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen to ward off death. Angus was happily chewing on something in his basket. He is better fed than me.

      On the way out of the front door I heard Mum screeching like a banshee. “Bob, Bob, that horrible furry thing is eating my tights. Stop him, stop him!!! Trap him with that chair!”

      Then I heard some crashing and Dad shouting and cursing. Mum hadn’t finished: “Of course you haven’t broken your leg, Bob. Anyway, never mind about that, get him… Oh bugger, now he’s in the laundry room. Oh dear God, he’s doing a poo in the ironing. That is it! They are going, they are going!!!”

      8:40 a.m.

      Jas was on her wall with Tom when I puffed up the hill. They were looking at something in a brown paper parcel. Jas was talking in a really silly girly voice that she uses when Hunky is around. I swear to God she will be developing a lisp soon. Pathetic. She went, “Ooooooohhh, Hunky, that is soooooo interesting. Look at this, Georgia.” And she held out the brown paper bag.

      There was a newt in the bag. How beyond the Valley of the Really Quite Mad and entering the World of the Certifiably Bonkers is that?

      Jas said, “It’s got very unusual markings. I’m taking it into Biology to show Miss Baldwin.”

      I said, “Yeah, good idea. Crawler.”

      But she didn’t even notice that I’d called her a teacher’s botty-kisser because she was so busy being an idiot around her boyfriend.

      Tom left us at the corner to go off to college. As he kissed her on her cheek, Jas was fiddling with her fringe so much that I thought she’d had sudden onset of rampant disco inferno dancing. At last they parted. But only after she had blown kisses at him and then he had to pretend to catch them and blow them back for about two trillion years.

      She was completely lost in Jasland. “Oh, it is so so so so nice to have him back.”

      I said, “Is it nice to have him back then?”

      But she didn’t get it. She just started again. “Oh yes, it is so so so so nice to have him back. I could never not have a boyfriend; it would be so sad. Imagine not having a boyfriend. Oh, actually, I suppose you can imagine not having a boyfriend.”

      What a cow she can be. I didn’t hit her because I think violence is wrong, and also she was walking too quickly for me to kick. I just said, “You are a very caring person, Jas. It’s almost uncanny how empathetic you are.”

      “I know – do you know what? Sometimes it’s like I can actually read Tom’s thoughts.”

      “Really, you mean when he’s looking at you and not saying anything, and yet you know what he is thinking?”

      “Yeah, like that.”

      “Yes, I could read his thoughts today too when he was looking at you.”

      “Really?”

      “Yes, it was quite clear he was thinking, Hey, I’ve accidentally got a prat for a girlfriend.”

      Hobbling into Stalag 14

      I’m not speaking to Jas. She is vair violent. I may have to go to a support group for victims of friends’ violence. UNPAL (United Kingdom’s Network for Protection Against Loonies).

      Assembly

      I am at the far end of the Ace Gang lineup next to Rosie. Not in my usual position next to Mad Dog Jas. She has given Ellen, Jools, Mabs and Ro Ro Midget Gems from her secret stash, but I don’t care because I am giving her my cold shoulders. She’s only got a boyfriend in the first place because of my excellent stalking skills. If it wasn’t for me, she would still be Mrs Sad on the shelf of life.

      One minute later

      Like me.

      Oh God.

      Even Rosie doing her shoulder disco dancing during “Jerusalem” failed to work its usual magic. Although when she sang, “And was Jerusalem builded here amongst these dark satanic pants”, I did snap and join in with the laughing attack the Ace Gang had. We had to be shuussshed by the Hitler Youth.

      Slim, our beloved elephantine headmistress, was in full jelloid mode. She was wearing an unusually attractive jumper in canary yellow. It must have taken at least ten sheep to make it. When she loses her rag she trembles all over. But each bit trembles independently. Chins, jowls, basoomas. If there was such a thing as jelly wrestling, she would be top at it.

      One minute later

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