Are these my basoomas I see before me?

In memory of the original Luuurve God with the big fat red Yorkshire legs:

Big Fat Bobbins.

This is dedicated to you all.

I quite literally love you all.

p.s. I hope I love you as much as you love me.

But I can’t worry about that now because that is life, isn’t it?

p.p.s. Perhaps I love you more than you love me, which is a bit mean as I am bothering to dedicate this book to you.

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?’

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?”