a proper car that people don’t point to and laugh at. Also it’s quite peaceful because Mum, Pippy and Jo just talk all the time. Libby is combing what is left of Panda. She tried to warm him up by putting him in the oven. Most of his bottom is burnt to a crisp. She is happy, though.
Gor blimey, Mum and her mates talk WUBBISH. I am glad that me and my mates are not so superficial. They are just talking about men and clothes and men.
I can just dollydaydream about my boyfriend and what I will wear when I next see him.
I must say I can’t really believe that he likes me.
And really fancies me.
Wow.
I’m a bit tired from last night and my lips ache a bit.
In a nice way.
I wonder if you can strain lips by too much snogging?
Jas said she did once. She got a sort of pucker spazerama.
Didn’t she do puckering exercises for it?
Pucker, relax.
Pucker, relax.
two minutes later
Erlack, she will soon be kissing Wet Lindsay unless something good happens.
Maybe I could suggest to Miss Wilson that we do mime kissing?
I am a genius!! Miss Wilson loves mime.
I wonder if Rudi and Miss Wilson have snogged yet?
fifteen minutes later
Even though I am trying not to listen, Mum and her mates are going to join this women’s group that teaches you how to become a goddess and make men do anything for you.
Blimey.
It sounds a bit like How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You .
Apparently the nub and the thrust is that men like to do stuff for women. So, you ask them to do something and then you say thank you. And that is how you train them.
I said, “Are there any dog biscuits involved?”
But they were too full of themselves to reply.
wild park
Wow and wowzee wow. We had the tippy-top of times. Honestly. When we got there I said I was very happy to stay in the car.
I said, “I’ve seen a bison on Look North or something and also some monkeys that Lady Dave Attenborough was lolling about with and that will do me, thank you.”
But I was glad as a glad thing on glad tablets that Mum made me get out.
Because we found Angus’s wild family.
Honestly.
His Scottish wildcat cousins.
They were sooo cool. The kittens looked just like Angus when I first found him in the garden in Och Aye land. Doing flying face-pouncing. Onekitten would unexpectedly and for no reason hurl itself through the air and pounce directly on another kitten’s face. Then it would grab on with its front paws and do bunny kicks with its back legs.
Libby kept yelling, “Me want naaaice pussycats,” and trying to climb into their cage with them.
One of the keepers said, “They are not pets. They are wild animals.”
I said, “You don’t need to tell me that. I used to keep Angus on a lead, but he ate it. Let us in, mister.”
Libby even said, “Please, Mr. Arsey man.”
ten minutes later
We’re in!!!
Oh, what a hoot. Libby and I had a bucket each of dead chicks and some rabbit legs.
We took some photos of us tugging one end of a rabbit leg and the kittykats pulling on the other end. In between spitting at us.
I love them, I love them.
We have got some pictures to take home with us to show Angus what his family look like and also a little tartan mousy.
Mum and her mates were ridiculously embarrassing around the keepers, who were quite fit, in an overall and welligoggy way….
on the way home
Libby is “feeding” tartan mousy with bits of chicken feather she has stuffed in her welligogs. I hope that is all she has down there. She was very interested in what the wild kittens’ poo looked like.
5:30 p.m.
When we got home, Dad wasn’t in so Mum decided to have a bath.
She is sensationally cheered up and all full of herself now.
I said, “What’s for supper?”
And she said to me, “Find something in the fridge. And give some to Bibbs. She’s allowed to watch children’s TV for half an hour. I’m having a long aromatherapy bath. I will use ylang ylang, I think, for its sensual overtones.”
I said, “Mum, you don’t
Gor blimey, Mum and her mates talk WUBBISH. I am glad that me and my mates are not so superficial. They are just talking about men and clothes and men.
I can just dollydaydream about my boyfriend and what I will wear when I next see him.
I must say I can’t really believe that he likes me.
And really fancies me.
Wow.
I’m a bit tired from last night and my lips ache a bit.
In a nice way.
I wonder if you can strain lips by too much snogging?
Jas said she did once. She got a sort of pucker spazerama.
Didn’t she do puckering exercises for it?
Pucker, relax.
Pucker, relax.
two minutes later
Erlack, she will soon be kissing Wet Lindsay unless something good happens.
Maybe I could suggest to Miss Wilson that we do mime kissing?
I am a genius!! Miss Wilson loves mime.
I wonder if Rudi and Miss Wilson have snogged yet?
fifteen minutes later
Even though I am trying not to listen, Mum and her mates are going to join this women’s group that teaches you how to become a goddess and make men do anything for you.
Blimey.
It sounds a bit like How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You .
Apparently the nub and the thrust is that men like to do stuff for women. So, you ask them to do something and then you say thank you. And that is how you train them.
I said, “Are there any dog biscuits involved?”
But they were too full of themselves to reply.
wild park
Wow and wowzee wow. We had the tippy-top of times. Honestly. When we got there I said I was very happy to stay in the car.
I said, “I’ve seen a bison on Look North or something and also some monkeys that Lady Dave Attenborough was lolling about with and that will do me, thank you.”
But I was glad as a glad thing on glad tablets that Mum made me get out.
Because we found Angus’s wild family.
Honestly.
His Scottish wildcat cousins.
They were sooo cool. The kittens looked just like Angus when I first found him in the garden in Och Aye land. Doing flying face-pouncing. Onekitten would unexpectedly and for no reason hurl itself through the air and pounce directly on another kitten’s face. Then it would grab on with its front paws and do bunny kicks with its back legs.
Libby kept yelling, “Me want naaaice pussycats,” and trying to climb into their cage with them.
One of the keepers said, “They are not pets. They are wild animals.”
I said, “You don’t need to tell me that. I used to keep Angus on a lead, but he ate it. Let us in, mister.”
Libby even said, “Please, Mr. Arsey man.”
ten minutes later
We’re in!!!
Oh, what a hoot. Libby and I had a bucket each of dead chicks and some rabbit legs.
We took some photos of us tugging one end of a rabbit leg and the kittykats pulling on the other end. In between spitting at us.
I love them, I love them.
We have got some pictures to take home with us to show Angus what his family look like and also a little tartan mousy.
Mum and her mates were ridiculously embarrassing around the keepers, who were quite fit, in an overall and welligoggy way….
on the way home
Libby is “feeding” tartan mousy with bits of chicken feather she has stuffed in her welligogs. I hope that is all she has down there. She was very interested in what the wild kittens’ poo looked like.
5:30 p.m.
When we got home, Dad wasn’t in so Mum decided to have a bath.
She is sensationally cheered up and all full of herself now.
I said, “What’s for supper?”
And she said to me, “Find something in the fridge. And give some to Bibbs. She’s allowed to watch children’s TV for half an hour. I’m having a long aromatherapy bath. I will use ylang ylang, I think, for its sensual overtones.”
I said, “Mum, you don’t
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