By Mark Burrow
I caught this boy, Dan, gawping at my ankle chain in a maths class once… I was like, “Oi, Noncy Nonce, stop perving at me.” Everyone was cracking up and he starts blushing… I was queen bee at school… a right bitch… I don’t deny it… Do you know one of our English teachers was sent to prison for looking at kids on his computer? Disgusting. He said in Court he was depressed. I don’t know about you, but when I’m feeling down I make myself a fat G&T, put my feet up and watch some Corrie.
Dan… We nicknamed him “Stalker” because he followed me home once after school. I was walking down my street and got a terrible fright when he called my name, “Hello, Tina,” he goes, like a proper axe murderer. “What are you doing here?” I said, relieved it was daylight and there were people around. He started mumbling and couldn’t get his words out. “Speak up, I ain’t got all day,” I told him and, finally, he goes, “I wondered if you wanna go ice skating on Saturday?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Who with?” I said.
“With me,” he goes.
I nearly died. He was the last person on earth I’d go out with. “Do me a favour, Dan,” I said, “I’m not going ice skating with you.”
“Oh. That’s fine…Just thought I’d ask.”
“Alright, then, laters,” I said, toodling off.
When I got home, I phoned my mate Fee and we couldn’t stop laughing.
Everyone knew at school the next day.
“Alright, Stalks,” they’d say to him, winking.