LOUISE RENNISON To my lovely family and fab mates. You know who you are and it is useless to beg me not to mention you in public. Come on, you know you are proud!!! Yes you are . . . Mutti, Vati, Kimbo, Sophie, John, Eduardo, Honor, Libbs, Millie and Arrow, Apee, Francesbirginia and family, Salty Dog, Jools and the Mogul, big Fat Bob, Jimjams, Elton, Jeddbox, Phil and Ruth, Lozzer, Mrs. H, Geoff “Oh is that champagne?” Thompson, Mizz Morgan, Alan “It’s not a perm” Davies, Roge the Dodge, Jenks the Pen, Tony the Frock, Kim and Sandy, the fab St. Nicolas crew, Fanny Fanshawe, Black Dog the Captain, Downie trousers, the Ace mob from Parklands, Caroline, cock of the North and family, to the English team of magnificence—Brenda, Jude, Emma and Clare and Gillon. And to all the lovely, lovely Hamburger-a-gogo types who have written to me to tell me they love my books. Thank you. Finally a very huge ginormous thank you to the marvy HarperCollins family and in particular to the MARVY beyond Marvydom Alix Reid. Contents A Note from Geo rgia iv iiii October 1 November 67 Georgia’s Glossary 175 About the Author Other Books by Georgia Nicolson Credits Cover Copyright About the Publisher A Note from Georgia Dear tiny American chums, It is I! Georgia, your English pal, writing to you from the exciting organ that is my mind. Here is the third part of my diary. I hope you aime it a lot, as much as Angus, Thongs + FFS and On the Bright Side, I’m Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God. Hey, guess what, do you know that in England the second book is called It’s OK, I’m Wearing Really Big Knickers? The title was changed because apparently you don’t wear knickers in Hamburger-a-gogo land. At first I thought that meant that you were all in the nuddy-pants under your skirts, but no, it means that you call knickers “panties.” I don’t know why when they are clearly knickers. But have it your own way. At least you are not as bonkers as people in Germany. My first book there is called Frontal Knutschen, which is German for full-frontal snogging. Frankly I will not be knutsching anyone in Germany. Anyway as usual in the interests of world diplomacy I have agreed to do a glossary AGAIN, in the back of this book, for words that you might not understand. You’ll laugh at this. . . . I was told that you wouldn’t even know what nunga-nungas are!!!!!! I said, “They’re not thick, you know, Americans, just because they don’t talk properly.” Anyway, pip pip for now. Lots of luuuuuuurve, P.S. You don’t know what nunga-nungas are, do you? P.P.S. Oh good grief. P.P.P.S. You know I love you all though, don’t you? Even though you are so dim. october return of the loonleader thursday october 21st my room 1:00 p.m. Looking out of my bedroom window, counting my unblessings. Raining. A lot. It’s like living fully dressed in a pond. And I am the prisoner of whatsit. I have to stay in my room pretending to have tummy lurgy so that Dad will not know I am an ostracized leper banned from Stalag 14 (i.e., sus- pended from school). I’m not alone in my room, though, because my cat, Angus, is also under house arrest for his love romps with Naomi the Burmese sex kitten. 2:00 p.m. They’ll be doing P.E. now. I never thought the day would come when I would long to hear Miss Stamp (Sports Oberführer 1 and part-time lesbian) say, “Right, girls, into your P.E. knickers!” But it has. 3:30 p.m. All the ace gang will be thinking about the walk home from school. Applying a touch of lippy. A hint of nail polish. Maybe even mascara because it is R.E. and Miss Wilson can’t even control her tragic seventies hairdo let alone a class. Rosie said she was going to test Miss Wilson’s sanity by giving herself a face mask in class and seeing if Miss Wilson had a nervy spaz. Jas will be practicing her pouting in case she bumps into Tom. 3:50 p.m. How come Jas got off with cloakroom duty and I got banned? I am a whatsit . . . a scapethingy. 4:10 p.m. Robbie the Sex God (MY NEW BOYFRIEND!!! Yesss and three times yesss!!!!!) will be going home now. Walking along in a Sex Goddy sort of way. A walking snogging machine. 2 4:30 p.m. Mutti came in. “Right, you can start making your startling recovery now, Georgia.” Oh cheers. Thanks a lot. Good night. Just because Elvis Attwood, school caretaker from the Planet of the Loons, tripped over his own wheelbarrow (when I told him Jas was on fire), I am banned from school. Mutti rambled on, although she makes very little sense since Vati got home. “It’s your own fault. You antagonize him and now you are paying the price.” Yeah, yeah, rave on. 4:45 p.m. Phoned Jas. “Jas.” “Oh hi, Gee.” “Why didn’t you phone me?” “You’re phoning me. I would have got the engaged tone.” “Jas, please don’t annoy me. I’ve only been speaking to you for two seconds.” “I’m not annoying you.” “Wrong.” 3