Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 03 by Knocked Out by My Nunga-Nungas

deliberately and viciously whacked me round the ankles in a hockey match last month and I didn’t want to be hobbling round for another two weeks.
    I couldn’t bear the tension of waiting for Robbie to come over; it made me really need to go to the piddly diddly department. I nipped off to the loos. A minute or two later Rosie came in, and she wasn’t alone; she had Sven with her. He said, “Oh ja , here ve is in the girlie piddly diddlys.”
    He scared four girls, who went screeching out.
    He is a very odd Norwegian-type person. Perhaps they have whatsits in Norwayland? You know,bisexual lavatories. Do I mean that or unicycle lavatories? No…unisex lavs, I mean. Rosie was completely unfazed by him being there, but as we all know she is not entirely normal herself. She said, “Robbie says he will see you in the dressing room.”
    Oh hell’s biscuits. Pucker alert, pucker alert!! After an emergency reapplication of lip gloss I made my way to the dressing room. I just got near when I saw Lindsay was there again! This time fiddling around with his shirt collar.
    Unbelievable.
    Robbie caught my eye and raised his eyebrows to me and then behind her back gave me like a “wait five minutes” sign with his hand.
    10:02 p.m.
    I was livid as an earwig on livid pills.
    Wait five minutes because of her…?
    Unbelievable.
    10:05 p.m.
    Back on the dance floor all my so-called mates were too busy snogging their boyfriends to listen to me complain. OK, I would have to take action onmy own. I said to Jas over Tom’s shoulder because they were slow dancing, “I will not, definitely not, play second fiddle to a stick insect.”
    She said, “What are you going to do then?”
    I had to sort of dance along with them in order to keep up with where her head was. “I’m going to be absent. Upstairs. Don’t tell him where I am if he asks you.” Then I hid upstairs in the club. I got a few funny looks from the snoggers up there as I crouched down by the stairs, but I didn’t care.
    I could look down and see Robbie looking for me. He even sent Jas into the loos to see if I was in there. She did a ludicrous comedy wink up at me as she went. What is she thinking? If she had been a spy in the war, German high command would have only had to get on the blower to her and say, “Vat haf you been told never to divulge?” and she would tell them everything, probably including the Queen’s bra size (sixty-four double-D cup).
    Anyway, I could see Robbie getting more and more worked up about not finding me. Ha and triple ha. Hahahahaha, in fact. So, Mr. Sex God, the worm is for once on the other foot.
    On the downside I had managed to make myself a snog-free zone.
    10:20 p.m.
    After the SG had gone back onstage to play another set, I went into the loos. Ellen was in there looking all mournful. She said, “I’m going to go. Dave the L hasn’t turned up. He said he would see me here, and he hasn’t come.”
    I tried wisdomosity about elastic bands and when a boy says “see you” who knows what that means, etc., etc. but she wasn’t interested.
    She went off home all miserable.
    Honestly, you try to help people even though you have troubles enough of your own. (And even though some people bring things on themselves because they get off with their best mate’s red herrings.)
    When I came out of the loos I made sure that Robbie could see how miffed I was. He tried his heartbreaking smile on me, but I ignored him with a firm hand and pretended to be laughing with my mates. I said to Rosie, “Wet Lindsay is a crap dancer, and her hair has no bounceability. Neither incidentally, despite all her efforts, have her basoomas. They just lie there. I think a bit of bounce in a basooma is a good thing.”
    I wondered what level of bounceability minehad when I was dancing. I went to a dark corner at the back of the bar where no one was to inspect