A/N: This exact story was originally posted on 06-09-09 with the same story title.
I may or may not turn this into a multi-chaptered 'fic

Disclaimers: I'm asking Santa if I can have ownership of all Georgia Nicolson books for Chrimbo, okies? :P Besiiiiiiiiides, this is complete AU!

(Still) Saturday September 17th



Everyone's swanned off into the night and I was left standing on my own, looking like a complete goosegog and spoon. I'm a bit miffed actually. How could they all abandon me like a bunch of abandoners? It's not as if I'm the abandoning type… or am I? Maybe my nose put them off? Or maybe it was my hair?

Shut up shut up shut up, brain!

One second later

There were more importante fandangos to be dealt with. Like the fact that the Luuurve God just got up to number 10 (not on the Snogging scale, you minxes) on the Having-the-hump scale. He, also, may or may not have just dumped me. Not to mention that the twits that I call my friends have all disappeared into the night to find their boyfriends, leaving me all aloney on my owney. Hell knows where Dave the Tart, I mean Dave the Laugh,is.

One second later

I am as lonely as a clud.

Five minutes later

Even Robbie's nowhere in sight – probably being tagged along by that stick insect, Wet Lindsay. (Gadzooks! I missed my chance to warn Robbie again) I need to advise Robbie to dump her and abandon Wet Lindsay before Miss Octopussy entices him in with her evil ways.

Not that I'm jealous or anything. It's just precautions that need to taken.

It's not like I'm actually going to do this to get Robbie back, now that Masimo has 'dumped' me.
I'm not.
No, really.
I don't even like him anymore. Robbie, I mean.
Not one bit.
WHAT?! OK, maybe I lied. I mightstill like him a tinybit, but only a little all.
I swear.

One minute later

Basically, the nub and gist of it is that I am boyfriend-less and left to mope on the rack of love. Everyone has someone, except for me. Well, unless the Italian Stallion gets over his full-humpty and decides not to dump me, so I can be the girlfriend of an Italian Luuurve God once again.

Three minutes later

I was fumbling about in the darkness, as agog as a goose, when a dark figure jumped on me out of the darkness, like a wild purple thing with fur. I swirled round and screamed, hands flailing and slashing thin air, like a loon on loon tablets.

"GEE?" I could recognise that voice anywhere. Rosie.

"ROSIE!?" I yelled happily. "Where in the name of Jas's massive pantaloonies have you been?"

"I am not Rosie," Rosie boomed, putting on a terrible low-pitched French accent. "I am... I am... le Masked Beardo du Paris. I 'ave come to kill you."

I saw 'le Masked Beardo' fumble around in 'his'rucky, before 'he' extracted 'his'beard and plastered in on 'his' face.

"Rosie, I know it's you! You just stuck a beard on your face."

Before I knew it, another unknown lanky figure had leapt on me and picked me up by the waist. I screamed.

There was a booming laugh. I groaned. Sven.

Sven practically lifted me up over his head, shouting, "Oja! Oja!" and a lot else of what people from Reindeer-land say.

Rosie eventually managed to persuade Sven to put me back down. When he did, I staggered about for a bit, trying to regain my balance.

"Well, what happened to 'le Masked Beardo'?" I asked Rosie.

"Oh, you missed him! Very nice man - he gave me his beard! He went home to le gay Paris to have pipes and tea with the frogs. I even got his autograph for you!"

I stared at her. She really is mental.

"So, where's the Luuurve God then, Gee?" Rosie asked, as I glimpsed Sven's shadow sneak up on her. "AAARGH! …SVEN! NOT ME! NO."

Brrrr… It was vair vair nippy noodles! I was starting to regret wearing a short skirt! I quickly sorted out my clothes in a dignitosity-at-all-times fashion, until Rosie's question caught me unawares.

I nearly tripped over a pebble.

I decided I wouldn't tell the Ace Gang - not yet, anyway. Just in case Masimo hadn't dumped me, after all, and would come rushing to me in the morning, begging for my forgiveness. Then, I'd forgive him and we'd live happily ever after – me as the official girlfriend of a Luuurve God and he as the Italian Stallion he is. OK. OK. Maybe not the last parts. But you get the nub of it.

"What?" I said, pretending to sound confused.

"Masimo? The Italian Stallion? The Stiff Dylan's lead singer?"

"Oh, him!" I feigned innocence. "Oh, he… umm… had to… err… rush off home to England without me. Because of… err… a family emergency!"

I was starting to sound like Ellen! Tiny white lie. Masimo didn't have any family in England. That wasn't the point.

The emphasised fake fur covering her real eyebrows made Rosie look stranger than a strange person on strange tablets, when she raised her eyebrows. She frowned at me and said, "Gee, didn't you say that Masimo's family live in--"

I quickly thought up a cunning distraction that would make James Bond proud.

"RoRo," I said innocently, "did I ever tell you that the hills are alive with the sound of PANTS?"

Two seconds later

It worked. Soon, we were both singing loudly and Rosie had most definitely forgotten what we'd been talking about – for now, anyway.


Even Sven tried to sing, but he just looked and sounded like a spectacularly mad madman covered in purple fur. That song saved the day: twice in a row. I called that pure luck, or Big G doing his good works.

I considered going to Church again, but I wasn't so sure if 'Call-me-Arnold' was ready for me yet. Maybe I'd try rescue Baby Jesus (more commonly known as: Our Lord Sandra) from Libby's clutches and set up my shrine again. Well, if Libby hasn't done something wild and mad with him yet. Like dyed his hair blue. Or put him down the toilet.


Two minutes later

According to Rosie, Miss Big Knickers and Wise Woman of the Forest had gone off with Hunky (what a marvy bestie she is), Jools was off smooching Rollo (durprise, surprise), Mabs had disappeared off home early and Ellen… she was somewhere or another. Probably with Declan. Make that definitely with Declan.

"Do you want a lift home? Yes, did you say?! OK, I'll just ask Sven! Sven?! WILL YOU GIVE GEORGIA A RIDE HOME?" And Sven was off again.

He lifted Rosie up and raised her above his head, spinning her round and round like the madman he is.

One minute later

"Yeah, I think that's OK with him..." Rosie panted.

Some time later

So, instead of waiting for the Portly One to embarrass me in the Clown Car, I piled into Sven's car and he dropped me off back at my house. Luckily, Mutti was far too busy nattering over the phone, in the living room, with one of her Salsa Class friends (and she told me I used the phone too much). As for my dear father, he was cackling along with the Bald One to some stupid television program.

I sneaked upstairs, avoiding getting caught by 'The Olds' and tortured by a century-long lecture about the Middle Ages and staying out late.

In bed


The sky is a pitch black, the moon is shining, the stars are blinking away like annoying blinky things and I'm all aloney on my owney. Left to bask in the bed of pain and burn in the Oven of Luurve.

30 seconds later

I wonder if he really has got the full humpty and decided to go off back to Pizza-a-gogo-land, without telling me first? Or worse still, withoutbringing me along with him? Did he mean it or not? I really need to seek some advice from mutti's trusty book, right now. Hmm… Maybe I could get it now! If I just sneak out of bed and…

Ouch! Ouch! And double ouch!

Angus biffed my toe and bit me. I tried to move again, but I saw Gordy's paws reach out and he attacked me. Foot shuffle. Ouch! Move to the right. Ouch! Move to the left. Ouch!

I don't think I'm going to get into a comfy position (or go to sleep) at this rate - they attack my feet and bite them like huge fluffy furry things every time I try to move. I think they've bitten through my socks...

Looks like all chances of getting Mutti's book was as likely as... Wet Lindsay getting a life.

One minute later

On the bright side, I can make a new dance routine. Starring my feet. With Angus and cross-eyed Gordy. We could set up our own tour and do concerts up and down the country! I'd get 99% of the profits, of course. See how naaiiiiiice I am? On seconds thoughts... I think I should shut up now. Thinking to yourself is the first sign of insanity.

Isn't it?


They seriously need to get some professional help. And learn that my feet are not mice.

Well, at least Angus has padded off to annoy the Prat Poodles.

I eased my foot out of the way and outstretched my arms, but Libby was there with all her 'fwends'. There was Charlie the horse, Our Lord Sandra, Pantilitzer doll, skinhead Barbie, a potato, a spoon and so on...

I think I see a new addition to her toys...

Ugh! What is that smell?

Erlack-a-pongoes! Libby's brought in a mouldy cabbage. So that's where the smell is coming from.

Pinching my nose, I moved her arm out of the way, but she whacked me round the head and muttered, "Baaaaaaaaaaaaaad boy! Gingey, SLEEEEEEP!"

Could all toddlers her age multi-task? In their sleep?

Sunday June 17th

All aloney on my owney


Woke up at the crack of dawn and found the house suspiciously empty. Angus and Gordy were currently out at work: attacking postmen, defending their territory, sniffing other kitty-cat's botties, annoying the Prat Poodles and so on…

However, the members of the Loon Family were nowhere to be seen. After a few pointless decades of exploring around the house in my teletubby jimjams, trying to locate the members, I gave up. I washed up and got dressed instead.

Ten minutes later

I've got a lurker! Just lurking there like a gross red thing. It's HUGE.

One minute later

OK, false alarm. It was just a stain from one of Libby's felt pens. How it got there, however, I do not know.

Do you think Libby can draw spots in her sleep too? If she can, she really is one wonder kid… Maybe, I could make my fortune by telling the television people about her sleep multi-tasking powers?! I could be her manager!

One second later

I think Masimo dumping-but-maybe-not-dumping-me has really warped my imagination.

Ten minutes later

I went downstairs to the kitchen and found a note taped sloppily onto the fridge:


Your dad, Bibsy and me have gone off to the zoo with Uncle Eddie. There are some leftover beans in the microwave and some bread… somewhere, for your lunch. We'll be back before the evening.

Try not to get yourself into any trouble,

Mum XxX

'Try not to get yourself into any trouble'.Charming. Utterly charming. She'd abandoned her own teenage daughter and just went off with Libby and the two most dangerous criminals in the entire country: i.e. Vati and Uncle Eddie. Yet, she was telling me to try not get myself into trouble?

How marvy. They didn't even try to wake me up and ask— Wait, I missed a bit on the bottom.

PS: Before you go off into a sulk,

I so do not sulk.

We didn't wake you up to ask you, because we knew that you wouldn't want to go anyway.

I am vair vair offended.


In the kitchen

They could've at least tried to ask me! I might've actually wanted to go to the zoo with them…

Ten seconds later

To make a facsimile of sham and a total humiliation of myself, by the ones known as Vati and Uncle Eddie.

One second later

And trudge about looking at pitiful, boring and pessimistic animals staring out of their cages.

One second later

With their big, black, beady eyes.

One minute later

OK, I get Mutti's point. I wouldn't have wanted to go.


Pingy pongoes! The microwave smells like… like… like Libby's embarrassing poo explosion! Pinching my nose, I armed myself with a fork and pushed my shirt over my mouth and nose. I jabbed at the rancid, congealed orange substance with the fork.

Ten minutes later

I think I'll pass the baked beans. Seeing as I've already chucked them into the rubbish bin. I found some bread stuffed behind the kettle. But there was mould all over them. There weren't that many mouldy spots and I could've just picked them off… but I put the rest of the loaf in the bin too.

There's bound to be some sort of food around somewhere. If Vati can survive and still have a potbelly, then I can too. Survive, that is.

One second later

Not the potbelly bit.

One second later

'Cos then that would be just weird.

One minute later

Raiding the cupboards for any sign of edible food. Nothing, nothing. and ooh, just a hint of nothing.

If mum doesn't bother to stock the cupboards or iron any of our clothes without burning them, what does she do all day?

Two minutes later

No. No, actually, don't answer that.

One minute later

Back to business, about the man in question, Vati. He must have a secret stash of food of food somewhere…

If I was an annoying, selfish, embarrassing portly forty year-old father, where would I hide my secret stash of food?


Yes! And three times YES! Call in the servants, slaughter the fattest cow and prepare a feast! Due to my famously renowned climbing skills, I've discovered a large cupboard-ful of junk foods! There's absolutely everything! All the chocolate bars, crisps, biscuits, sweets, beers, and food you could think of. He hid it all right at the top, where nobody could find it! The cheek of that man… Really…


One second later

Ooh and there's Poptarts! Scrummy yumboes. I'll just nab a couple of boxes of them and hide away in my room. Ooh and some Mars Bars. And two packs of Jammy Dodgers... Just one more! Oh what the heck, I'll grab some Digestives too. See, that's all I'm taking! This is how naaaiiiiiice I am! Oo-er, the cupboard's a bit… empty now.

Two seconds later

I'll just shift a couple of wine bottles and chocolate boxes around… There! He won't notice a thing. I hope.

Ten seconds later

What? It's not my fault the Swiss Family Robinson can't be bothered to stock up their cupboards. Vati hid all the food away and it was my duty to find it all! I need to eat, don't I?


I snaffled the food up to my room and went back down to the kitchen. I am now feasting on a nutritious lunch of Poptarts, Mars Bar and Digestives with cheese – it's quite nice actually. I'll snack on some Jammy Dodgers later, but for now… Nibble. Nibble. Nibble.

There was suddenly a loud clattering coming from the door. Gadzooks! Burglars!

More reports later.

Twenty minutes later

Made myself one of my special coffees and am slurping it all up. Mmmmm… It's not so bad being on my own really. Did I forget to mention something? Yes, I did? Well, basically I dashed out to investigate the noise – being the brave I am… Then this happened:

"OW! This ****** door!" yelled a man's voice. What charming language. "Gerroff me you stinkin' cat!"

"Who is it?" I called out.

"Just open the bleedin' door already!"

"Not until you tell me who you are."

"You really need to housetrain your cat! And who d'you think would be mad enough to do this job and be attacked by some wild beast of a cat?"

I knew that voice anywhere! Ha. I'd bet anything that it was cross-eyed Gordy and/or Angus giving him grief.

"Michael Jackson?" I called out cheekily.

"No. It's Bill Oddie. Who else would it be? It's yer postman."

"Calm down. I had to check – it could've been Beowulf out there!"

I heard another yelp of anguish before I finally opened the door to find an anguished, fed-up postman holding a bedraggled parcel and a collection of letters. Gordy was clutching his right leg and clinging for all his life, biting and clawing, while the postman handed me my letters in pain. He made me sign this form and I took the parcel from him – it had Bob Nicolson on it. I wondered what the Owner of the Clown Car had decided to embarrass us with this time….

"D'you mind getting' YOUR cat off me?" the postman shouted, waking me out of my reverie. "It's not exactly— OWWW!"

Hehe. Angus had joined in. He leapt out from behind a bush and skilfully jumped onto the postman's other free leg, joining his son. Aww, it was so sweet! Father and son working together. I wanted to stay and watch the show, but I, being vair considerate and caring, went inside and reappeared with a broom.

A couple of minutes later, I managed to beat the energetic cats off and they scuttled off. The postman didn't even say a simple thank you and stormed off! People these days…

(Still) In the kitchen


The letters and parcel still remained, unopened and tempting by my side. I hadn't given them a second glance. Yet.

I'd peeled open a layer of the parcel and it looked like some weird computer thing, that didn't interest me in the slightest, so I sellotaped it back up and hoped Vati wouldn't notice. I dumped my plate and mug into the sink. Since I was such a groovy daughter, I decided I'd leave the dirty dishes and mug there for Mutti to wash. It would give her some practice being a proper mum.

Two minutes later

I flicked through the letters: bills, junk mail, letters for Mutti, something for Libby– I'd definitely have to investigate that letter later and… the letter slipped out of my hands and fluttered down to the floor.

I bent down to pick it up but paused. It read Georgia Nicolson on it. I suddenly remembered the postman giving me a letter and saying that some 'lanky rascal of a boy' had told him to give it to me… I'd been so caught up in the moment and hilarious Angus-and-Gordy fiasco that I'd completely forgotten.

Could it be from Masimo? If it was, what if it was a letter saying he was sorry for storming off and saying he wanted to meet me? But what if it was an angry and/or upsetting, burnt-in-the-Oven-of-Love saying that I was dumped? Did I want to pick it up?

One second later

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Ten seconds later

I know! I have a BRILLOPADS idea! I'll leave it all up to Big G… He'll lead me into the right way. I have been vair vair good these days, after all. Mostly. I think. Or not.

Impatient and determined, I picked the letter up and ripped it open. My eyes skipped the long swirls of writing and zoomed down to the bottom of the page. One word stood loud and clear: Dave.

Chapter 3: Dave, Robbie and Masimo


Hey Kitty Kat,

Met your Italian boyfriend on the High Street today. Still had the scooter and handbag. He had a message for you; I don't know why he couldn't give it to you himself, but… Maybe that's a homosexual thing, eh? Sorry, sorry, I'll shut up now Gee.

Here it is: (Not in exactwords, but close enough anyway)

I am how you say flying to see my family in Pizza-a-gogo-land tomorrow.(It might have been America, but why I am expected to play messenger in the first place? He might've said week or month or year, but I was too busy checking him for manscara. Ha! Geddit?)I wanted see you at the gig yesterday to tell you, but you were too busy what you call it… 'jiving' and having good time with your friend and Laugh the Dave. (He really said that!) I overestimated what happened yesterday – he is nice man. I know not when I come back Georgia. And I am unsure of our… what you call 'relationship'. I need time to think. I am confused and though you are pretty and amusing girl, maybe you are not as mature as I thought. We talk when I come back. I see you soon.

So, how was that for a messaging service? I should be granted an award for that, and another award for being the Hornmeister. Dec and Rollo are getting really competitive now, so I'd better go before they kill each other with their farts.

Dave the Biscuit at your service!

PS: Tom says that Jas says you're giving her the humpty. Ring her.


What does he mean? I don't understand! So am I dumped or not? Why couldn't he just tell me? I am on the rack of love and full of confusionosity.


Think. Think. Think.


Being the girlfriend of a Luuurve God (or not) is vair hard work.

Ten minutes later

More to the point, why did he tell Dave and not moi. Or maybe he thought that I couldn't take the truth and would force him to stay in England, instead of letting him go to see his family.

One minute later

Then there was the 'see you soon' cliché all over.

Ten seconds later

Did he mean 'see you soon' in a 'see you really soon' soon, or in a 'pretendy see you soon' soon?

One second later

Boys will never cease to amaze me. They speak such a truly confusing language. Even though it's the same language as mine and everyone else who lives in England.

One second later

And Scotland.

One second later

And Wales.

One second later

And Ireland.

One second later

And lots of other countries too.

One second later

Such as America.


Rolling around on my bed of pain, watching Angus and Gordy 'play' with the Prat Poodles by biffing them and stealing their chew toys. It's quite amusing.


Maybe I should call Fringey and ask for her advice. Maybe she'll forget she abandoned me, went off to snog sheep with Hunky and drove off in the Huffmobile. Besides, how did she know I wasn't talking to her when I hadn't seen her since yesterday?

One second later

To call or not to call, that is the question…


Ho hum pig's bum. I might as well.

Phoning Jas

Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

A decade later

Pick up Fringey, pick up!

YESSS! Success.

"Hello?" it was Jas's voice. Thank goodness. "Who is this?"

"Jas, it's me!" I said.



"Well, 'me' could be anyone."

"You know who this is already, so stop asking me!" I said in frustration.

I swear I could hear her flicking her fringe.

"No, I don't. Because you won't tell me who you are."

I sighed.

"It's your bestest ever pally."


I practically growled.




Ten seconds later

She'd slammed the phone down on me!

Ten minutes later

Tried calling her for the last ten minutes, but she's not picking up. I keep leaving annoying and silly voicemails, but she's still not answering. She'll get tired of this soon and pick up.

One minute later

GADZOOKS! The Swiss Family Mad - that's including Uncle Eddie - are back. I could recognise the sound of the Clown Car ten miles away! I leapt away from the phone like a large leapy thing and ran upstairs into my bedroom, diving under the covers for, err, cover.


The nub and gist of it is that they had a magnifique time without me.


Libby has found a new fwend. A giant, inflatable banana that looks likes a Miss Wilson after trying to put make-up on. It's hideous.

Ten minutes later


One second later

Life's not fair. Dave the Laugh is laughing away on his camel, Robbie is permanently stuck to a Stick Insect and Masimo is… still an utter dreamboat, who's decided to abandon me for his family or Italy or America.

One second later

No Masimo. No Robbie. No Dave. I am cake-less and in Heartbreak Hotel.

Two seconds later

Maybe I will grow up to be Scary Spinster Lady and all the kids were boo and laugh and throw tomatoes at me. Now, that's a scary thought.

One second later

Evasive action must be taken.


I may have to call an urgent Ace Gang meeting tomorrow on the boyfriend front. But for now I must catch my much needed beauty sleep.


A/N: Reviews are my oysters. ;D