Читать книгу ‘Stop in the name of pants!’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 29

Dropped off at the bottom of my road. By some miracle we have arrived home not maimed and crippled by our coach “driver” and school caretaker Elvis Attwood. He hates girls.

I don’t think he has a driving licence. When I politely asked to see it after a near-death experience at a roundabout, he suggested I remove myself before his hand made contact with my arse. Which is unnecessary talk in a man who fought for his country in the Viking invasions. I said to him, “You are only letting yourself down by that kind of talk, Mr Attwood.”