Espanol

Totally forgot there’s a Spanish test on Monday afternoon. What a bloody great welcome back to school that is, the bastards. Really wish Miss Higgs was still teaching. I know it makes sense having Mrs Sanchez cos she’s Spanish and everything but she talks so bloody quickly I don’t know how we’re supposed to keep up. Apparently Miss Higgs had a nervous breakdown, no doubt brought on by the fact that Ed, Miles and Henry used to throw tangerines at her head when she was writing things on the white board. Bloody funny though..

Maybe I’ll just revise tomorrow after lunch. I work much better when I’m totally shitting myself that I’m running out of time. I think we’ve got the Grannies coming round for their Sunday feed. Sal had better turn up for that. Really pissed off at her totally deserting the homestead this week. I’ll give her a call later and make sure she’s planning on showing up.

Mother’s gone up to London today to meet her friend for lunch. Christ knows what sort of a state she’ll be in when she gets back. I really should talk to Dad about it but how the fuck do you start that conversation?? I swear he’s got his head totally buried in the sand. What a mess. The sooner I’m back at school the bloody better. My driving lesson didn’t exactly go to plan either. Mother was totally freaking out (probably cos she didn’t have a glass of sherry in her hand) so she completely made me stall the car at the mini roundabout near the Humphreys’ house. Thank Christ they didn’t see. The last thing I need is Ed Humphreys telling everyone at school that I’m a complete Joey Deacon. Dear God, let me pass this driving test…

Hangover

Can’t believe it’s sodding Friday already. Seriously crapping my pants about A-level mocks in four weeks time. I am screwed.

So I went back into town yesterday afternoon to have my disaster of a haircut put right. I went to a different place of course. I told them I had it done for a fancy dress party. The guy asked if I had been going as Kevin Keegan. Very funny… I’ve now got an all-over grade 2. It’s bloody short but I reckon it looks quite cool. Mother hates it. I thought she was going to cry when she first saw it but it turned out she’d been chopping onions. Uncle Gid said I looked like a tough nut. That’ll do me. I bet Lindsay Joyner likes a tough nut. God if I lose it to her I will be a fucking LEDGE at school.

Ralph reckons that Rosie and George might have shagged on Abby’s parents’ bed at the party. Someone found a condom with jizz in it on the landing. I told him it was probably Alex Dudley having a wank. He’s so paranoid he thinks he might get his HAND pregnant if he didn’t take precautions. CLASSIC! We got seriously wankered last night. I had FOUR pints of 6X. Thought I was going to chuck my guts on the bus home. Had to get off at the Chinese roundabout and walk the rest of the way. Dad and Uncle Gid were still chatting in the lounge when I got in. Mother was dead to the world, snoring in the den. I decided to leave everyone to their own business and took myself to bed. Feeling like crap this morning. Not going to drink for a LONG time.

Mother’s supposed to be taking me out for a driving lesson after lunch. Not seen her all morning so not holding out much hope. What the bloody hell is going on..?

Mannequin

Gutted I wasn’t at Abby MacKenzie’s party – just got off the phone with Ralph. The bloody police showed up! Apparently someone leaked that someone was bringing some charlie to the party and they broke down the door – CLASSIC! Even better than that they carted off Mark C cos someone planted it in his bag when the rozzers turned up. I wish I’d seen the look on his cherub face. His mother’s a complete religious nut – reckon she’ll have disowned him by now. First assembly next week is going to be LEGENDARY! If I can just sort out my ridiculous hair by then… I might have to get it all shaved off. The mousse thing was a waste of time. It just went a bit like a mannequin’s wig. Trouble is I’ve got a right bullet head so it might look a bit weird but better to look like a squaddie than a bloody bird.

Also Rosie Hagwell snogged George Rosenbaum. Not sure how well that will go down with Becky his GIRLFRIEND. Reckon there’ll be bloodshed in the girl’s boarding house once Becky finds out. I wonder who’ll tell her..

Dad and Mother are having Uncle Gid over for dinner tonight so they’ll have to talk to each other then or it’ll be very weird. Sal’s still hardly been home. She’s been at Ian’s house pretty much the whole time so things must be serious. She reckons there’s nothing to worry about with the parentals but I think she’s in denial. If it’s normal behaviour for a married couple to not talk to each other for at least five days then what the fuck’s the point in being married? Maybe I’m missing something..

Meeting up with Ralph at The Archers tonight to get even more dirt on the party. Am going to make out like I don’t give a shit I wasn’t invited though I’m definitely giving Abby M the silent treatment when I get back to school.

Hair Today

So it’s official. I look like Queen Elizabeth II. I foolishly decided to “engage” with the hairdresser when I got there yesterday afternoon, rather than just sit quietly with my copy of Viz as normal. Big mistake. I happened to mention that I found it hard to stop my hair from falling forwards into a page boy style fringe, and so Rita (my stylist) insisted that I have something called a Techni-Wave. She absolutely guaranteed me that I need not be concerned about my masculinity as she deftly rolled large curlers into my hair, before applying a solution that smelled rather like mosquito repellent and sticking me under a large hairdryer for an hour. I should have had my suspicions when I caught her son smirking at me through the window while he puffed on a B&H. Half an hour later I was looking in the mirror and our elderly monarch appeared to be staring back, dumbstruck. I’m not sure if you can sue hairdressers but I’m definitely going to look into it. Even Rita looked concerned for my safety as I skulked out onto Bromley High Street, £25 poorer.

I belted home quicker than a rat up a drainpipe and ran upstairs to the shower. Contrary to Rita’s advice I stood under a stream of hot water and desperately tried to pull my new curls straight. Essentially I seem to have ended up with the sort of tight perm my mother would die for and I don’t think I’m going to be able to go out in public for approximately 3 months. Of course the logistics of this exile are rather unworkable and it is somewhat more likely that I shall return to school on Sunday night and be beaten with sticks like a Jew at a Nazi rally. This morning things don’t seem to have improved much so I have just applied half a can of Mother's firm hold mousse and am hoping for the best. Thank God I wasn’t invited to Abby MacKenzie’s party. Must call Ralph and find out how it went..

Shit Flicks

Saw quite possibly the WORST film EVER last night. Brad Pitt is seriously overrated if you ask me. It wasn’t helped by the fact that I got ID’d on the way in. Do I look under 15?? Sal’s bloke Ian pissed himself while I was trying to find my provisional driving licence. Bastard. I hope she dumps him soon. Unlikely though; she was all over him last night. So shameful..

When I got home Mother was already in bed and Dad was in his study so I just went to my room. Something weird’s going on. I haven’t heard them speaking to each other since I got back from school on Saturday. They’d better not be thinking of getting divorced. It’s so 1988. Trust my parents to be totally behind on relationship trends as well as everything else. At least I’m too old to be fought over. Guy Williams was practically sawn in half when his mum and dad split a couple of years ago. God knows why. He smells like off raisins and bears more than a passing resemblance to Roland from Grange Hill. If he was my child I’d be happy to be rid of him.

Mother’s booked me a haircut in town later this afternoon. She offered to drive me in but I think I’ll cycle. I need the exercise if nothing else. I’m a size 30 waist now. Tim Figgis is a size 32 and is officially the fattest person in school and there’s no way I’m planning on joining him in that category. Plus if I lose weight then I’ll definitely be able to get a girlfriend. Lindsay Joyner would do nicely. She is massively fit and Robin Greaves would be gutted if I got her. He’s been after her for months.

Mother’s shouting at something. Better go..

Turncoat

So Ralph’s now going to Abby MacKenzie’s party. Jesus Christ, what the fuck’s going on? Am I a leper or something?? Bloody furious. He spent all of last week going on about what a social misfit she was and now he’s flogging all the way from Chislehurst to Maida Vale on the off chance of a snog with some bit of fluff who’s probably totally frigid if she’s mates with Abby Mac. Once he’d told me his plans I didn’t mention going for serious beers tonight. He can sod off. Sal’s going to the cinema with her new bloke. Might see if I can crash that. Hopefully she’ll pay cos I’m arsing skint now my allowance is monthly not weekly. Forty-five bloody quid. Dad and Mother must think it’s still the 60s if they reckon that’s enough to live off. What a joke..

Dad had walked into town before I got up this morning so a drive of the Jag is out the question. I woke up to the sound of Mother singing Dusty Springfield in the bath. Nice.. I wish she’d pull herself together. Now Fatty Brent’s gone mental after yesterday’s “incident” I’m going to need someone else to take me out in the car as much as poss over the next week and a bit. Dad’s at work all the time so Mother’s my only option God help me.

I think I need to get a girlfriend. I’m 17 now for fuck’s sake. I don’t know what’s going wrong. Maybe it’s time to start showering every day. Such a bloody chore though. Also my hair makes me look like a total geekfest. Need to get it cut this week anyway so I’ll see what they suggest to make me look utterly horny. Really want to lose it before Christmas.

Car Crash

Felt bloody rotten this morning. Driving lesson was an unmitigated disaster. Not my fault of course. Some complete chump who was very probably uninsured went into the back of my car on Chelsea Bridge. Fatty Brent was livid. I thought he was going to knock this guy out. They had a full on row in the middle of the road, which only managed to piss off every other driver in London. Anyway the guy that hit us basically gave Fatty the finger and then drove off so that endeth the lesson. I had to sit in the back of the car while we drove home in case I accidentally hit one of the dual control pedals. Christ, what does he think, I’m special needs or something?? I can’t wait til this bloody test is over and I can hit the road whenever I want.

Dad’s picking the Jag up from the garage tomorrow so I might go with him and see if I can get behind the wheel for a bit. Not holding out much hope mind you. He’s been in a very weird mood all weekend. Mother’s barely said anything either. I caught her furiously drying up a sherry glass after breakfast. I bloody hope she isn’t cracking onto the sauce before 10am but who knows. Should be an interesting week..

Sal didn’t come home either. She’s got a new man, reckons “he’s the one”. What a load of chod. She always thinks she’s onto a winner for the first three weeks and then they get bored. Her trouble is she’s up for shagging them way too soon. I’m sure those are heel marks in the ceiling of her Peugeot 205 so you can’t deny she isn’t showing them a good time but she could definitely do with toning it down a bit.

Going to call Ralph in a bit and see if he’s up for a few Newquay Browns down at The Archers tomorrow night. Over and out.

Embarrassment..

So dad arrived at 1:30 this afternoon to take me home for half term. Something’s wrong with the Jag so he came in Uncle Gid’s Vauxhall Carlton – total shamefest. Now everyone’s going to think we’ve been hit by the recession and I’m a complete gyppo. I might as well just end it all now. I chucked on my b-ball cap as I was leaving the boarding house so hopefully no one saw. We didn’t speak on the way home. I think dad might be worried about Mother but I didn’t want to bring it up. No doubt Sal will fill me in when she gets home later.

I wish we had a bigger house. I think I’m the only person in my year to only have four bedrooms. Well, apart from Jenny H but she practically lives on a council estate. She gets away with it though cos her mum was a model or something in 1968. Jenny reckons Rod Stewart came round to her house when she was at nursery school but then she also said she could play the harp. That lie seriously backfired when she was asked to have a go on one the morning that Cobber Collins brought his in to show us as part of Music GCSE. Cobber said she could have got more tune out of an egg slicer. Classic…

Currently waiting for my driving instructor to turn up. We’re going to drive up to Victoria today. Slightly need a shit. I don’t know where he is. Probably buying more Mars bars at the garage the fat bastard. He’ll be dead soon the amount he packs away. Just as long as he lasts out til November 6^th when I take to the roads on my own I don’t care.

Oh, he’s here. Back tomorrow.

Nearly Half Term..

One more day til half term, thank bloody Christ. I think Mother’s coming to pick me up tomorrow morning provided she’s not over the limit again. Dad said she totalled the mini a couple of weeks ago on her way back from one of her rummy afternoons – bloody lush. Rum afternoons more like.. She needs to keep a check on things or she’ll end up in the Priory with one of those knobhead, so-called, pop stars. Christ, the embarrassment. Maybe I’ll see if I can get a lift with Charlie or Jimbo’s mum..

Apparently Abby MacKenzie’s having a party at her parent’s house in Maida Vale during the week though I haven’t had an invite. Bloody lezza if you ask me. Mark C and Alex are going and they’re total choir boys so I doubt there’ll even be any booze on offer. I don’t know what people see in her anyway. What’s so bloody good about Maida Vale? Plus I need to get some driving practice in before my test in TWO BLOODY WEEKS! I’m totally bricking it though I’m sure I’ll pass with flying colours. Everyone in my family’s passed first time so if I don’t I’ll never live it down. Probably have to OD or something. Cry for help, say I was mentally unbalanced or some shit like that. Anyway, it’s not going to happen so it’s fine. God it’ll be brilliant when I can drive though I guess I’ll have to ask for a new car now the mini’s out the picture. Most people here are getting Beetles. Bloody ugly things I think. Hitler designed them for fuck’s sake. What a bunch of cocks.

Right, assembly starts in five so I’m signing off but will be back tomorrow. Double economics this morning.. What the fuck was I thinking..?