Following the Youth Club on Friday night, Dermot has a love bite on his neck! He said he’d kill me if I told anyone, or pointed it out in company, especially at Quinn HQ. He made this point v v strongly – in fact, I haven’t seen him that passionate in a long time.
I don’t ‘get’ the love-bite thing at all. The Gang tried it out once. Not on one another! No, we each gave ourselves a love bite on the back of the hand one afternoon. I didn’t like it. Those suckers hurt. Why would Dermot want that sort of pain in the neck?
If Stevie Lee Bolton ever has a love bite, I will DIE (unless it’s me who gives it to him … ). Here’s a song I made up about him. It’s to the tune of ‘My Favourite Things’ from The Sound of Music, which is a great favourite of mine and Mum’s. (I haven’t sung this for her because, well, it’s private … )
His soft leather jacket is on Stevie Bolton,
White cotton T-shirt, he plays Texas Hold Em,*
He’s got brown eyes and a bright shiny smile.
He is a favourite of mine by a mile.
He might like a Slinky, which for me is no good,
I’m only thirteen and they are all well old.
He’s kind to me and that’s really well cool.
I wish I could be his fav’rite girl at school
When he’s laughing, when he’s talking,
Then my heart might burst.
Oh, Stevie Lee Bolton, I really do like you
Although I don’t Stand a Chance!
Attraction to another human being is a strange thing and it doesn’t seem to follow totally logical rules. For example, my mum is ‘well fit’ according to Gary, the dorkiest of Dermot’s friends. I should point out that he’s v v strange from the get-go. He likes to say ‘innit’ a lot at the end of his sentences too, cos he saw that on TV or something. Put it this way, he didn’t pick it up on his travels, as, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, he has never gone anywhere and probably doesn’t even have a passport.
I once heard him say he was ‘biggin it up the massive, innit’ and I immediately realized that neither of us understood what he had just said. Also, he’s inclined to greet people with, ‘High five, blood,’ and then the other person has to do a high five with him and try not to laugh in his face or say something truthful like, ‘My name’s Marcus, not blood.’
At least he’s not wearing a woolly beanie at the moment – presumably because the weather is too hot. And his jeans are up over the waistband of his underpants presently, which is an improvement. I am SO not interested in seeing his pants. My face burns again to think that he saw mine during the Kitchen Incident.† Ennyhoo, point is it’s a bit freaky that guys think Mum’s a fox in any way AT ALL – she’s ancient, so it just doesn’t apply. She’s forty-three. And she’s my MUM, for crying out loud!
Mind you, it’s not just guys who go odd around my parents. Dix gets all giggly with my dad. She calls him ‘Doug’ in a funny, squeaky voice, the way the lads call Mum ‘Vic’ when they’re feeling all cool and brave, and they sound like they’ve swallowed helium and have become Smurfs. Cringe-making.
And, while I’m at it, Uggs told me he was going to marry me once. He was only four at the time but it was a shock and I can only hope that he’s changed his mind, cos it would just be weird, a bit like marrying your own brother, which is so totally WRONG. He’d also like to be called Gene but, again, that would be a Saddo Thing and it’s never gonna happen on my watch, or Dixie’s. Just saying.
