It is unfortunate that Alice met Stacy. Alice kicking me in the balls at school today was a rather petty act. So now it turns out that none of Alice's friends are speaking to me, nor any of Stacy's friends, and - it seems - not even friends of Stacy's friends. Which accounts for pretty much the whole year.
Nietzsche said that a certain intellect must live amongst ice and mountains. An entirely cerebral consideration. xxxxxxxxxx tells me she is engaged to the motorcycle guy.
I shall relish living in these lofty and desolate climes, far above Alice and Stacy and xxxxxxxxxx, not to mention Jive Bunny and Kevin Costner. I will listen to the House of Love album. My testicles must stop aching soon. I shall write no more.
Monday
tofu
I copy here Stacy's mum's earnest poem about tofu:
milk of a bean
tofu
blank canvas of taste
tofu
tofu is good for you
No cows died
in the making of
tofu
No marriages breaking
due to tofu
Nobody shaking
in fear of tofu
No-one was shot
with guns of tofu
Nobody knocked
out or stunned for tofu
No-one was stopped
by grenades of tofu
protein
bouncy
have a good chew
tofu is good for you
No stockbrokers are staking
it all on tofu
No heroin addicts are taking
tofu
The doers of evil: forsaking
tofu
It's moving, it's shaking
The charts it is breaking
Everyone waking
up to tofu
Sales are through the roof
of tofu
Everyone feeling the truth
of tofu
You're the gin in my vermouth
tofu;
yes you,
tofu.
Let's hear it for tofu - hooray!
Lets hear it for tofu today.
milk of a bean
tofu
blank canvas of taste
tofu
tofu is good for you
No cows died
in the making of
tofu
No marriages breaking
due to tofu
Nobody shaking
in fear of tofu
No-one was shot
with guns of tofu
Nobody knocked
out or stunned for tofu
No-one was stopped
by grenades of tofu
protein
bouncy
have a good chew
tofu is good for you
No stockbrokers are staking
it all on tofu
No heroin addicts are taking
tofu
The doers of evil: forsaking
tofu
It's moving, it's shaking
The charts it is breaking
Everyone waking
up to tofu
Sales are through the roof
of tofu
Everyone feeling the truth
of tofu
You're the gin in my vermouth
tofu;
yes you,
tofu.
Let's hear it for tofu - hooray!
Lets hear it for tofu today.
Sunday
wanky medley
Who would have thought that Jive Bunny - a disrhythmic holiday camp DJ with a Bontempi mixing desk and the attention span of an infant - would have not one but two number 1s with their unbearable medleys?
Anyhow, my ten year old sister plays their latest single about thirty times a day (I suppose it's like musical chairs without the boring silences) which means she listens to two minutes of Eddie Cochran and three of Bill Haley a day, but this does not dissuade me from giving the class gerbil a vinyl treat. It has no taste either - it happily gnawed a sizeable chunk.
Unfortunately, the gerbil's digestive system unexpectedly showed some class and took umbrage. In other words, I appear to have killed the thing. I put it in a corner of the cage and half-covered it in sawdust. She's taking it back to school tomorrow so that should be okay. If she says anything, I'll just suggest it has started hibernating.
| Chas n Dave were reported to be "astounded" by Jive Bunny's DJ skills |
Anyhow, my ten year old sister plays their latest single about thirty times a day (I suppose it's like musical chairs without the boring silences) which means she listens to two minutes of Eddie Cochran and three of Bill Haley a day, but this does not dissuade me from giving the class gerbil a vinyl treat. It has no taste either - it happily gnawed a sizeable chunk.
Unfortunately, the gerbil's digestive system unexpectedly showed some class and took umbrage. In other words, I appear to have killed the thing. I put it in a corner of the cage and half-covered it in sawdust. She's taking it back to school tomorrow so that should be okay. If she says anything, I'll just suggest it has started hibernating.
Wednesday
finishing alice
"Well, Mr Snuggles," I say to a waistcoated hedgehog, in a sing-song baby voice that makes me want to throttle myself, "I think we have real star quality here in Alice." I pick up a different toy. "But how, Tobias Turtle, are we going to get her properly out of her shell?"
Marilyn Monroe, I tell her, was just a girl from the country to begin with. At my place over the last few days, I've been corrupting Alice with VHS. And we've been to see Batman. I've even (risky) taken her to the Curzon to see a Truffaut film. I get her to take the ribbon out of her hair and wear it down. I encourage her to make sexy starlet poses.
Then I tell her my cousin is a film-maker. I say I've told him all about her: Her...freshness, her vivaciousness, her individuality, (her gawky retard version of a 'come hither' look), her joie de vivre. I think I can get her a screen test. I can't promise anything beyond that. Truth is, she'd been simmering for a while before I came along. She was ready to melt.
Back at base, her virginity overcome, I feel obliged to complete the job and get her that screen test. I've just been on the phone to an 80 Marlboro voice from "Wet n Wild Films". She's booked in for next Tuesday.
| Alice's explanation of the Electromagnetic Spectrum differs from Einstein's |
Marilyn Monroe, I tell her, was just a girl from the country to begin with. At my place over the last few days, I've been corrupting Alice with VHS. And we've been to see Batman. I've even (risky) taken her to the Curzon to see a Truffaut film. I get her to take the ribbon out of her hair and wear it down. I encourage her to make sexy starlet poses.
Then I tell her my cousin is a film-maker. I say I've told him all about her: Her...freshness, her vivaciousness, her individuality, (her gawky retard version of a 'come hither' look), her joie de vivre. I think I can get her a screen test. I can't promise anything beyond that. Truth is, she'd been simmering for a while before I came along. She was ready to melt.
Back at base, her virginity overcome, I feel obliged to complete the job and get her that screen test. I've just been on the phone to an 80 Marlboro voice from "Wet n Wild Films". She's booked in for next Tuesday.
Saturday
more wanky poetry
Stacy's mum's first draft of her love poem to her boyfriend, Roger.
They have all set sail
For other shores
And here am I
a smuggler's cove
worn to dust
A wide expanse
A sad beach
They plundered me
and I thought
I was a wreck
until you came
with your smart parley
and your charm to the britches
with eyes that spoke honesty
and now we have cleared up
that misunderstanding
about your secretary
and the cleaner
and the girl next door
and the au pair
and Judith
(Silly me! but you know how it looked
with her in only her bra)
and the interior designer I forget her name
and that lying cow from the Drum and Bush
and Alison
and Phoebe
and the girl from the newsagents
I realise
I have found a good man
at last.
They have all set sail
For other shores
And here am I
a smuggler's cove
worn to dust
A wide expanse
A sad beach
They plundered me
and I thought
I was a wreck
until you came
with your smart parley
and your charm to the britches
with eyes that spoke honesty
and now we have cleared up
that misunderstanding
about your secretary
and the cleaner
and the girl next door
and the au pair
and Judith
(Silly me! but you know how it looked
with her in only her bra)
and the interior designer I forget her name
and that lying cow from the Drum and Bush
and Alison
and Phoebe
and the girl from the newsagents
I realise
I have found a good man
at last.
Wednesday
alice
Alice is new to the sixth form, just moved from a tiny village. I think she has only ever read about towns in a book. She's never seen them on TV - they don't have one.
Alice believes all thoughts turn into butterflies
I've decided to take her under my wing. I took her around some of the sights, booking in the process a backstage pass to her bedroom, a place so frilly and virginal it would make Laura Ashley puke.
Alice introduced me to her teddy bears individually. I shit you not. Introductions over, I told her that there was something special about her, that she had a freshness, something different, a real aura, presence, a stellar personality... if only she cast off her shyness. I told her that I was in awe of her, charmed, captivated.
She looked at me in amazement with her big blue saucer eyes, never blinking once. Tongue tennis and a squeeze of her breast is a start. She's a work in progress.
Alice believes all thoughts turn into butterflies
I've decided to take her under my wing. I took her around some of the sights, booking in the process a backstage pass to her bedroom, a place so frilly and virginal it would make Laura Ashley puke.
Alice introduced me to her teddy bears individually. I shit you not. Introductions over, I told her that there was something special about her, that she had a freshness, something different, a real aura, presence, a stellar personality... if only she cast off her shyness. I told her that I was in awe of her, charmed, captivated.
She looked at me in amazement with her big blue saucer eyes, never blinking once. Tongue tennis and a squeeze of her breast is a start. She's a work in progress.
Sunday
wanky diddler
I didn't mind camping with Stacy, or her mong friend Simon, since Stacy was supplying the drugs and Simon the four-person tent. Trish, however, turned out to be intolerable.
Her babygurgling over every creature as "kur-YEWWT" (duckies/ickle sparrows/puppy with adORAbibble eyesiwies/birdiekins having an ickle bathy-wath) was bad but dismissable,
Cute lambs. After the first hundred thousand, the novelty starts to wear off.
her jolly insistence on a game of I-Spy during the slightest moment's silence was annoying but bearable, her half-hearted non-effort in putting up the tent or washing up or collecting firewood was infuriating but overcomeable, her enthusiastic squelchy masturbation each night was nearly as amusing as it was awkward, and her treatment of Simon as non-existent was merely an accurate reflection of his charismatic presence (and, in fact, it was her one redeeming point: her non-exchanges with Simon and his subsequent annoyance providing a little amusement). But the endless mentions of Gerald near drove me to murder.
A Trish story about Gerald would be cued by almost any mundane event, such as rain, and would proceed as follows:
"This reminds me of the time I was camping with Gerald. And it started to rain. Well, wouldyoubelieveit he touched the side of the tent even though I told him not to and we got wet. Then we did something, I don't remember... O yes that's right: We played I-Spy with my little eye something beginning with w which was water and that is so Gerald well we laughed and laughed it was so funny I tell you that's Gerald all over."
Gerald (Artist's impression)
Her Gerald stories would end with her donkey porn laugh and there would be a nanosecond of silence before she told another Gerald story, most of which involve I-Spy; or she would suggest a game of I-Spy here and now. One day she was going to put all her Gerald stories in a book, and everyone would buy a copy, and then, having read one to two stories, swallow their own eyeballs to prevent themselves accidentally reading any more.
Day six, and we were driving through the village of Big Shitting, which is distinguised from Little Shitting by the fact it has a large shop cum post office. "Aww look at the ker-YEWT ickle lambikins" said Trish, not for the first time, as we passed a field identical to a thousand others. Trish had to stop to get a stamp and post a letter (I think it was literally one letter) to or about Gerald - who was on a French exchange or got shot during the 1919 uprising or was tragically crushed by a camel while liberating the arabs.
Trish went into the large shop while we waited in the car. After a couple of minutes I said "I spy with my little eye something begin with F."
"Freedom!" I shouted, while accelerating out of there.
Stacy wouldn't talk to me for fifteen minutes.
Her babygurgling over every creature as "kur-YEWWT" (duckies/ickle sparrows/puppy with adORAbibble eyesiwies/birdiekins having an ickle bathy-wath) was bad but dismissable,
Cute lambs. After the first hundred thousand, the novelty starts to wear off.
her jolly insistence on a game of I-Spy during the slightest moment's silence was annoying but bearable, her half-hearted non-effort in putting up the tent or washing up or collecting firewood was infuriating but overcomeable, her enthusiastic squelchy masturbation each night was nearly as amusing as it was awkward, and her treatment of Simon as non-existent was merely an accurate reflection of his charismatic presence (and, in fact, it was her one redeeming point: her non-exchanges with Simon and his subsequent annoyance providing a little amusement). But the endless mentions of Gerald near drove me to murder.
A Trish story about Gerald would be cued by almost any mundane event, such as rain, and would proceed as follows:
"This reminds me of the time I was camping with Gerald. And it started to rain. Well, wouldyoubelieveit he touched the side of the tent even though I told him not to and we got wet. Then we did something, I don't remember... O yes that's right: We played I-Spy with my little eye something beginning with w which was water and that is so Gerald well we laughed and laughed it was so funny I tell you that's Gerald all over."
Gerald (Artist's impression)
Her Gerald stories would end with her donkey porn laugh and there would be a nanosecond of silence before she told another Gerald story, most of which involve I-Spy; or she would suggest a game of I-Spy here and now. One day she was going to put all her Gerald stories in a book, and everyone would buy a copy, and then, having read one to two stories, swallow their own eyeballs to prevent themselves accidentally reading any more.
Day six, and we were driving through the village of Big Shitting, which is distinguised from Little Shitting by the fact it has a large shop cum post office. "Aww look at the ker-YEWT ickle lambikins" said Trish, not for the first time, as we passed a field identical to a thousand others. Trish had to stop to get a stamp and post a letter (I think it was literally one letter) to or about Gerald - who was on a French exchange or got shot during the 1919 uprising or was tragically crushed by a camel while liberating the arabs.
Trish went into the large shop while we waited in the car. After a couple of minutes I said "I spy with my little eye something begin with F."
"Freedom!" I shouted, while accelerating out of there.
Stacy wouldn't talk to me for fifteen minutes.
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