Читать книгу ‘Knocked out by my nunga-nungas.’ - Louise Rennison - Страница 54

On the edge of sheer desperadoes. Decided to go for a walk.

Arrow tried to round me up as I came out of the gate. So to make him happy I let him herd me into a hedge for a bit. Then I set off down the lane. Ho hum. Birds singing, ferrets ferreting, probably. Jock McThicks McThicking around. Good grief. Then I came across a phone box.

Uh-oh. Temptation.

The phone box was saying to me, “Come in and use me, you know you want to.”

I have been practising maturiosity by not phoning the Sex God. It seems like a lifetime since he last snogged me. My lips have definitely got snog withdrawal. I found myself trying out kissing techniques on scuba-diving Barbie last night. Which is truly sad. I wonder if Rosie is right? Her theory is that if you snog a lot your lips sort of swell up and get bigger. It makes you wonder what in the name of Slim’s pantaloons Mark the Big Gob has been doing.

I must pass by the phone box with complete determinosity.