Read Online Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 08 by Love Is a Many Trousered Thing - Free Book Online Page B

things. Mostly I lied.
    assembly
    Slim was moaning on as usual. “Why is it necessary for me to remind you that the science block skeleton is not a toy? Whoever thought it was funny to dress it up in Mr. Attwood’s spare overalls and sit it in his hut with a flask is very childish. Mr. Attwood got quite a start.” Etc., etc., blah, blah, rave on, rave on. But then the music started (or Miss Wilson playing the crap piano, as some people call it), and we realized it was the pièce de résistance comedy hymnwise. Not Jerusalem. Obviously it would have been top if it had been Jerusalem with its famous refrain “And was Jerusalem builded here amongst England’s dark satanic PANTS,” but it was even better than that. Because yesssssss it was “Gladly my cross I bear.” Or as we know and love it, “Gladly my cross-eyed bear.” Oh yes. Klingon salutes all round for the ace gang.
    Hawkeye was giving us the hairy eyeballbecause normally we do not bother singing, we just mouth the words. But touché , Hawkeye, girl torturer and center of poonosity, today the ace gang has triumphed comedywise.
    Then to put the icing on the pajamas, as we trooped out along the corridor, Elvis Attwood tripped over his mop and had a magnificent spaz attack and started hitting the mop. I think he is tipping over the edge into insanity and mentaldom.
    blodge
    Miss Finnigan is absent, probably exhausted by hauling her nungas around all day, they are quite literally giganticibus. Nearly as obscene as my mum’s. As a special treat, Miss Wilson has been sent on as sub. Joy unbounded.
    As we lolled into our seats, Miss Wilson was fiddling around with a TV. Rosie said, “Ooh good, is it Gladiator , Miss?”
    Miss Wilson had a complete ditherama and practically lassoed herself with the electrical cable. She was all flushed.
    â€œNo, no, it’s not Gladiator because it’s—”
    Rosie hadn’t finished. “We are always allowed to watch Gladiator on Wednesdays. And as it is setin olden times we are also allowed to practice our Viking bison horn dance. Do you want to see it?”
    Smoothing her bob in between plugging stuff in, Miss Wilson said, “Now Rosie, you know that it’s biology and so I will be showing a relevant film. So settle down girls and…Julia, please do not set fire to the plants with the Bunsen burner; that is not what they are for.”
    Jools started then: “What are Bunsen burners for, then, Miss? I thought that was what the huge flame thing was for.”
    I didn’t give Miss Wilson much chance of making it through to the end of the lesson.
    five minutes later
    Miss Wilson is sensationally red. Rosie offered to help plug stuff in and accidentally turned the fan full on, which nearly blew Miss Wilson’s bob off. She has outdone herself fashionwise today. And I am not saying that just to be nice. She must have found the only corduroy shop in the world and today she was wearing a pinafore dress made out of it, with ankle socks. They were not made out of corduroy actually, but it would have been good if they had been.
    I said to Mabs, “If this so-called film is anything to do with reproduction by any creature on the planet, I am definitely putting chewed-up paper in my earlugs.”
    two minutes later
    The film turns out to be about bees. It is a film about a bee center.
    How crap is this going to be?
    an hour later
    That was the best thing I have seen for ages. We made Miss Wilson rewind the bit where the two queens were having a bitch fight. I didn’t know how fab bees were, and so sensible they could teach us a thing or two. For instance, the queen bee kills her sexual partners by tearing off their reproductive equipment (or bee trouser-snake addenda) once she has had her wicked way with them.
    As I said to Jas, “That would solve my multi-boyfriend problemo. ”
    She said, “Georgia, excuse me if I am right, but one of your