This is my other idea which I said I'd write before I write Back onto the Horns of the watsit (For the Gird Series). It is done from the Dave and Georgia's daughter, Bethan's point of view. She is a bit like Gee but as the story develops, you'll start to see that her personality is a bit different- there is a major point to that!! But I can't tell you why!

I wasn't going to post this yet, but I am paranoid encase anyone comes up with the same idea.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters (i.e. Dave, Georgia) but I do own Bethan, her mates, siblings, etc. oh, and I own the plot.

Hope you like!

Juggling With Knives

Christmas Day

5.00am

I will never understand, this side of the grave, why Dad thinks it is acceptable to barge into my room at the crack of dawn, shout "MERRY CHRISTMAS!!" and then run out. Like a loon. A loon wearing a Father Christmas Hat. In Pyjamas. Good Grief.

2 minutes later

Does he want to give me a heart attack?

1 minute later

I really don't see the point in Christmas. In fact, I hate it with a passion.

5.15am

Does anyone in Châteaux Bonkers understand the meaning of privacy?? Seemingly not. Mum came dawdling into my room too. Why don't they just take the door off and be done with it??

I told her that, I said, "Why don't you just take the door off my room so it is free passage for all? You barge in, Dad barged in, is this the barge-in patrol?"

Mum said, "It's Christmas. Your Dad is just a little excited,"

It is pathetico in a grown man.

2 minutes later

It is not even snowing. What is the point of that? Why do they make Christmas cards with snow on and it never snows at Christmas? Why?

1 minute later

Dad just barged into Harry's room. There was a muffled yelp of pain so I think Harry threw his football boot at him.

Serves him right.

6.00am

I went downstairs. It was like a nightmare of streamers and fairy lights. I can only presume my responsible loons were drunk when they decorated. It is like Santa's Grotto. Especially since Dad is still wearing his Christmas hat.

The Loons had already begun the present unwrapping session without me. They must care about me so much.

I went into the kitchen to make myself a coffee.

2 minutes later

Do I have a sticker on my back saying: "Please follow me?" Do I? Because Mum followed me into the kitchen. Hasn't she got anything better to do?

She said, "Aren't you going to open your pressies?"

I said, "What is the point? I know I have not got anything I want,"

She said, "What do you want?"

OH! The list is ENDLESS!!

1.A new nose, preferably half the size of the gigantibus conk I have to lug around now. Why in the name of pantyhose did Mum have to pass on her Huge Hooter Gene to me? She is so selfish.

2.Growth Tablets. It's getting to the 'Is it a mouse? Is it an ant? No it's Bethan!!' stage. I blame Dad entirely for that one. Why did he have to be on the short side of things? Couldn't he have been tall? But then again, Mum is quite tall and I may have ended up like a female giant. I want to be taller, but not too tall. The right amount of talliness.

3.A boyfriend. But for that to happen I will have to have the first two sorted out. No boy wants a girl that is a walking nose and little else.

4.Million Pounds for spendaroonies. It is like trying to rob a bank getting money out of Mum and Dad. How am I supposed to live on five pounds a week? It bet they wore wheat-a-bix packets when they were younger.

5.A one way ticket to Hollywood. So I can show the world my fabby singing talents. And then it would be Bye-Bye Loonland and Hello Stardom.

Of course I couldn't say this to Mum. She doesn't know what hopes and dreams are. And that is the sadnosity of her life.

3 minutes later

In the end the elderly insane dragged me to open my presents.

1 minute later

I have got a huge make up kit-type watsit of Mum. Why? She knows I don't wear more make up than I can help. It is like a recipe for lurkers.

I said, "Mum, I don't wear make up,"

And she said, "You will one day,"

Yes, when I am at the end of my life like her so I need not worry about dressing like a prostitute. I said, "No I won't Mum. I don't like the prostitute look like you,"

She ignorez-voused me and started to try and promote the bit and bobs to me, she said, "Look, Foundation, that covers up blemishes and spots and makes your skin look perfect,"

I said, "Blemishes? Spots? Are you suggesting my skin is not perfect mum?"

She went into a huff with me and pretended to care whether Baby Ben was eating sellotape or not.

Dad got me a few tops. Which are actually quite nice, shock horror. Just a shame that they are ten sizes too big for me.

2 minutes later

Harry has made me something at Primary School. And that is literally what it is. A something. I have no idea what it is supposed to be.

Still, it's the thought that counts. Ish.

9.00am

I swear if Dad sings 'Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer' or 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' one more time; I will be forced to strangle him.

5 minutes later

Right. That does it. He is singing 'Jingle Bells' at the top of his lungs. It is certainly not him I get my singing talents from.

I went downstairs and it was like Loon City, Arizona. The whole house had gone mad as a hatter. Two hatters. Mum was doing her 'Viking Dancing' (i.e. Twit Dancing) and Harry was doing what he fondly imagined was grooving (it wasn't). And Dad was prancing around, swinging Baby Ben around in some mad dance. Ben was giggling like an excited earwig. Uh-Oh.

1 minute later

Hahahahahaha. Ben was sick all over Dad!! All this disgusting mushed up baby stuff was all over dad's Christmas hat. Erlack, Erlack!!

Serves him right for swinging Ben around though.

Hilarious.

6 minutes later

Phoned Sophie when the Proverbial Loons disappeared into the kitchen.

I said, "Soph, it is like Bedlam here. Dad is wearing a Christmas Hat,"

She said, "Is it red with a bobble on it?"

"Yes,"

"Oh my God,"

"I know,"

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do,"

"Are you sure?"

"Soph?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up,"

2 minutes later

Turns out it is Bedlam at House Jennings as well.

She said, "But we don't have fairy lights on our tree,"

I said, "Really? Ours looks like it's glowing with the amount on it. How come?"

She said, putting on a stupid voice, "Because it wastes electricity or apparently,"

I said, "I am surprised ours hasn't short circuited the entire city. Or collapsed because of the weight of the baubles on it,"

She said, "Your house is rather like a mental institute, only not so normal,"

Oh lovely! But I was too full of the spirit of Christmas to say anything so I said, "Come over, then, and save me from going mad,"

Sophie said, "I can't because I have Auntie Lindsay and Uncle Robbie around,"

I said, "Is Lindsay wearing high heels?"

Sophie said, "Yes, seven-inches. Serious Mutton dressed as Lamb Alert,"

I said, "Its disgraceful how so-called adults let themselves go. She's even older than my mum!"

At which point mum heard and went ballisiticisimus. I cannot help it if she found her first grey hair the other day.

10.00am

Oh Poo and also as our Froggie type chums would say MERDE! We have the relative-visiting-type larks too. Fabby. Not.

2 minutes later

I said to Dad, "Do I have to go?"

He pulled a face and said, "I have to,"

I said, "Yes, but you married into this family. I didn't ask to be born into it. I only am here because you and Mum- erm, anyway, why do I have to go?"

He ruffled my hair like I was Harry's age and said, "Aw, come on. Be a sport, just for today,"

I pulled my 'I really don't want too, more than I really don't want you to call me 'sport'' so he sighed and finished lacing up Baby Ben's booties and then said, "If there was money that could potentially change from my hands to yours, how much would the price of you going over be? I am open to an offer,"

What in the name of Pantibus is he on about?

I said, "What in the name of Pantibus are you on about?"

Dad said, "It would be on the sly of course, but I only have three conditions. One is that you go and see Connie and Bob and cheer up for Christmas. Two is that your Mum doesn't hear any of this and thinks you are going over of your own choice,"

I said, "And three?"

"You stop pulling that sulky face. I didn't give you my good looks for nothing, you know,"

Shut up. Does he think he can bribe me to spend half my life in the Boredom Centre?

I said, "You can't bribe me, Dad,"

4 minutes later

"A tenner is all I'm offering,"

"Twenty,"

"Ten,"

"Twenty,"

"Fine then, fifteen,"

"Twenty,"

"Fifteen,"

"Nineteen,"

"Sixteen,"

"Seventeen,"

Dad said, "Yes, ok, seventeen squids,"

I said, "Twenty,"

1 minute later

I got the twenty squidaroonies.

I said, "It's a pleasure doing business with you, dad,"

2 minutes later

My pockets are happily jangling with money. Hmmm. What can I spend this on?

Nicolson Household

11.00am

It is literally The Mad House here. The door was opened by Granny Connie, who, may I add, is as deaf as two short deaf things. And literally has breasts like two over-inflated shopping bags. Even larger than Mum's; and that is saying something. I really hope that I won't inherit their breasty-type gene.

They gave each other a hug but I think it was more like who could knock the other over with their basoomas. Harry had been standing by Mum and nearly got crushed to death. He came running over to us and whispered to me, "Erlack! I was nearly squashed between Mum and Granny's boobs!"

I said, "You will have to enjoy it, Harry. It will be the only womanly touches you will ever get,"

But Dad gave me his idea of the 'parent' look' (i.e. raising his eyebrows until they nearly disappear into his hair line. I think he likes to think it is ironic when he does that. It isn't. It just makes him look like a twit)

I told him that, "You look like a twit, dad,"

He said, "Then it's such a shame you inherited that then, isn't it?"

Cheeky cat.

4 minutes later

Gran has decided to cook us Christmas Lunch which means I will probably get food poisoning. But of course she wanted to pester me first.

She said, "Oh look how much you've grown!"

I said, shooting Dad the meanest look I could muster when having my cheeks pulled, "Hardly. I'm so short,"

She said, "You what?"

I had to speak up and say, "HARDLY! I'M SO SHORT,"

She said, "Sorry, didn't quite catch that,"

"HARDLY!! I'M SO SHORT!!"

"What?"

It is like talking to someone with no ears.

Mum said, "She said; hardly, I'm so short,"

"Pardon, love?"

Then Granddad Bob yelled, "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, CONNIE!!! SHE SAID; HARDLY, I'M SO SHORT!!!"

She heard that time, she said, "Oh, sorry. You know, I think my hearing is going,"

You think?

Granddad said, "Yes, we know that! Can you pass me the ruddy remote?"

Gran said, "Pardon?"

Which I thought was hilarious to the extreme.

Midday

Auntie Libby has turned up. Marvy. Not.

I said to Mum, "I thought she was supposed to in prison still,"

She said, "Oh no, she's on community service now,"

Of course.

3 minutes later

I think Auntie Libby is psychologically unstable. And I think the adults think so too. I swear Dad shifted Baby Ben away from her when she sat next to him.

5 minutes later

God, this is so boring. Why can't the adults hurry up and get drunk so I can sneak off?

1 minute later

Mum is helping in the kitchen which I think is a mistake. We might as well have two poisoners on Cooking-Duty.

3 minutes later

Auntie Libby is juggling with knives. It is amazing to watch. I can't wait to see when she cuts her fingers off.

It is human nature to be fascinated by gore. That is why people went to hangings and beheadings and all those Medieval Watsits. But then, they didn't have TV in those days. And therefore they lived very sad lives.

I must remember to ask Mum and Dad what it was like back then.

1.00pm

I went upstairs for a bit of peace and quiet. Libby kept trying to talk to me and I don't really want to end up a Jail-Watsit like her. And I couldn't talk to Granddad because he was watching the Horse-Racing on TV. Not that I would want to talk to him. I would get the most awful string of abuse back. It is appalling from a pensioner. But that is what the world is like.

I didn't want to talk to Dad either; because he will try and be nosy about my life.

2 minutes later

Sitting in Mum's old bedroom. Well, actually, I'm nosing through her drawers. Oo-er.

4 minutes later

I have found some hilarious photos of her and Dad when they were teenagers about a millennium ago. They look so sad and naff. Mum's nose looks horrific.

2 minutes later

Oh my Giddy God!!! I have found some of mum's old diaries from when she was my age!!!!

I wonder what she has written??

4 minutes later

Mostly a lot of WUBBISH. But what can you expect from the days they played with baked bean tins??

1 minute later

Erlack!! Erlack!! I accidentally stumbled across a bit when Mum was writing about snogging Dad! And it was so full frontal and no details restrained. It was disgusting to the extreme. It was like Parental Porn!! Erlack a Pongoes!!

3 minutes later

I feel abused and dirty now. I don't want to read about my parents snogging. I have enough trouble running away when they snog in front of me. I don't want know the details.

1 minute later

Mum called Dad 'Dave the Laugh'. I can only assume it is because everyone laughed at him. At him, not with him.

2 minutes later

DAD CALLED MUM KITTYKAT!!! How crap and naff is that? Trés crap and naff.

1 minute later

Kittykat for Christ's sake.

2 minutes later

Kittykat…

5 minutes later

Dad came bumbling up to make sure I hadn't hung myself from boredom. He saw me reading the diaries and said, "Oy! You can't read those, those are your mum's private things!!"

I could barely look him in the eyes after reading the nitty and gritty stuff.

I shall on no account mention 'kittykat'.

I said, "You used to call mum 'Kittykat,"

Dad said, "I still do, just not when you are around,"

ERLACK!! I do not need to hear this!!!

5.00pm

I am back, unscathed amazingly. I have smuggled Mum's diaries back with me. All I can say is praise baby Jesus for oversized hoodies!!

5 minutes later

In ye olde days they used to called a woman's breasty business 'nunga nungas'. How disgusting is that?

Do you want to know why? It says here. It says it is because apparently if you pull a girls basooma and let it go, it goes nunga-nunga-nunga!

How incredibly sick and pervy

1 minute later

But it goes to show how out the loop they were in those days. Did the boys really think that our basoomas made those noises?

30 seconds later

You would think girls are musical instruments the way they spoke.

8.00pm

Soph and Vicky called for me to come out. Which I accepted, no questions asked. Anything to get out of Castle Mad. Mum and Dad were singing again. I don't think they are entirely normal.

1 minute later

Then again they both did drink a lot of Vinto Tinto at House Nicolson. I thought I was going to die on the journey home, we nearly hit a lamppost.

8.30pm

Sitting the park wall

I said to Soph and Vicky, "I was reading some of my mum's old diaries earlier,"

Vicky said, "Oh?"

I said, "You will never guess what they called women's breasty businesses?"

Sophie and Vicky shrugged.

I said, "Nunga Nungas,"

Sophie said, "Nunga Nungas?"

Vicky said, "Why?"

I said, "Because apparently if you pull one and let it go it goes NUNGA-NUNGA-NUNGA!!"

We had a laughing spaz to end all laughing spazzes.

1 minute later

Vicky said, "Beth, I get the drift your mum was a bit of a pervert,"

I pushed her off the wall. She got a bit stroppy because her new Christmas jeans got muddy. As I told her, it served her right.

She said, "I was only saying that is so pervy, the nunga business,"

I said, "Well it is your uncle who thought of it,"

She looked puzzled. I said, "Your mum is called Ellen, isn't she?"

She said, "Yes,"

"Well, the bit I read, Ellen is telling Georgia- my mum, that her brother calls breasts nunga nungas,"

Vicky said, "I didn't know I had an uncle,"

Soph said, "How can you not know you have an uncle?"

Vicky said, "My mums got severe agoraphobia and won't go out,"

Ah, that explains it. She hides behind doors when I come around. I thought I must have looked a bit rough or something.

9.30pm

We were parading around the streets singing at the top of our lungs. I think I am a marvy singer. I should be professional.

3 minutes later

Ooooh, we just walked passed Lucy Matthews and her mates and they said there was a party a few streets down and WHAT'S MORE it was a free for all and WHAT'S MORE it is Fiona Green party and hers are always trés coolio.

4 minutes later

Wow, it is groovy bananas here! There is loads of mistletoe everywhere and a Christmas Tree. I think Fiona must have persuaded her mum to go somewhere because I can't see her lurking anyway and trust me; she is not hard to find. She has a gigantibus bottom.

Why can't my Elderly Loons ever go out so I can throw a party?

1 minute later

Because they are selfish, that is why.

3 minutes later

Vicky went because she had to 'help her mum with her medication'. I think Vicky's mum is a little on the hypochondriac side.

I said that to Soph. I said, "I think Vicky's Mum is a little on the hypochondriac side,"

There was no answer. Because she had abandoned me on my ship of life and gone to chat up some boys in the corner. Typico.

2 minutes later

There is a boy watching me, actually. He has this really groovy gravy brown hair which is quite moppy. I sort of hung around under some mistletoe. Really casually.

3 minutes later

He hasn't taken the hint.

1 minute later

Still waiting for Mr. Gorgeous.

Then someone tapped my shoulder.

I turned around and there was this boy with really crap shaven hair. He said, "My name is Luke Knightly,"

I said, "Can I help you?"

He said pointing upwards, "Mistletoe," and he tried to snog me but missed and snogged my cheek. Erlack! Get off! Get off!

Before I could have a go at him, he ran back into the crowds. Mr. Gorgeous was sniggering to himself then disappeared into the crowds.

I went home.

10.30pm

Good Grief.

2.00am

Woke up from a dream in which Mr. Gorgeous had got me under some mistletoe and then he said, "Your nose…" and I said, "Oh, yes, I know it is big…" and he said, "No…it's glowing,"

And my nose was glowing red.

Like Rudolf's.

3 minute later

I really hope this was not a premonition-type thing.

So what do you think?? Can you figure out who is who's kid? It will get more interesting as the story progresses. Hopefully.

Trampy Mouse xx