“What shall I say? I must tread a fine line between glaciosity and friendlinosity. With just a hint of ‘you don’t know what you are missing, my fine-feathered friend’.”
I’m still trying to find the words to express the gratitude I have for Louise’s work. How do you thank the woman who made it okay to be a bonkers teenage girl?
I’ve never known a series make me laugh out loud so much throughout each book. The ridiculous words that Georgia and her Ace Gang used reminded me so much of me, my teenage best friend Nicole and our gang; it takes a special group of mates to start blabbering away in their own language, and an even more special author who just gets that and was able to turn that into all those hilarious and cringey stories.
It doesn’t, just, go away. There’s a little part of that teenage nutter inside everyone, as I discovered one day last year, after work. Me and my girls, Nic and Jen, found ourselves all piled on my bed with our bestie Richard, and we decided to watch Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging. The film came out when I was what, 15 years old? I didn’t know Nic and Jen when I was 15, but in that time, we were teenage girls together, laughing and cringing with Georgia, and actually screaming when that swimming pool scene came on. Richard didn’t know what to do.
Her life lessons don’t stop being relevant. I should definitely still pay attention to lines like “Boys are different from girls. Girls like to be cosy all the time but boys don’t. First of all, they like to get all close to you like a coiled-up rubber band, but after a while, they get fed up with being too coiled and need to stretch away to their full stretchiness. Then, after a bit of on-their-own strategy, they ping back to be close to you”.
I also can’t be the only British girl in her twenties who is convinced that Dave the Laugh is my soulmate. Teenage female sexuality was made okay by Louise and the horn. When I was a teenage girl, girls couldn’t really be sexy without being slut-shamed, nor could they be funny. Whilst doing some googling for this blog, I found myself identifying with a quote from Charlotte Runcie’s article for The Telegraph (link below): Georgia was the “teenage girl who was funny above all else was a role model for any girl who has ever been told by a boy that ‘girls aren’t funny’”.