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?’

You know you luuurve it, you cheeky Fräulein!

      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.”