Stop In The Name Of Pants by Louise Rennison

A Note From georgia

Dear chums,chumettes and, er... chummy wummlies,
I write to you from my bed of pain. Once again I have exhausted myself with creativitosity writing 'Stop in the Name of Pants!' I am having to lie down with a cup of tea and a curly wurly. But that is how vair vair much I care about you all, my little pallies. I am a fool to myself, I know. I ask only thing in return and that is this. All of you must dance the Viking disco hornpipe extravaganza in classrooms and recreation facilities throughout the world. It doesn't matter if there are only two or three of you, just stand up proudly, get your horns and paddles out (oo-er) and dance!!!
Loads and loads of deep luuurve,

Georgia
Xxx

P.S. some of you don't know what the Viking disco hornpipe extravaganza is, do you?

p.p.s. please don't tell me you don't know that Vikings had discos.

p.p.p.s. Or that they shouted "hooooorrrn!!!"

p.p.p.p.s. For those of you who haven't bothered to keep up with my diaries because you are just TOO BUSY, I have put instructions for the dance at the back near the glossary.

p.p.p.p.p.s. What have you been TOO BUSY doing?

p.p.p.p.p.p.p.s. I suppose you have been TOI BUSY to even know what the having-the-hump scale is as well.

P(7x).s. So I have included that at the back too. My so-called friend Jas (who has the hump pretty much all of the time) would be at number four with you by now (cold-shoulderosity work).

P(x8).s. I really luuurve you and do not mind that you are lazy minxes. That is your special charm charm. Pip pip. X