The World of David Walliams 5 Book Collection

He got away with it in the second lesson too, physics. Magnets and iron filings. Fascinating! Dennis hadn’t understood this subject as a boy, and understood it even less as a girl. He was quickly learning that:

It was best to remain silent in class,

Remember to cross your legs when you are wearing a dress, and most importantly,

Don’t catch the boys’ eyes as you might be more attractive than you thought!

The bell rang again not a moment too soon. It was break-time.

“I need to go to the loo,” said Dennis, with a sense of urgency.

“I do too,” said Lisa. “Let’s go together.” Lisa took Dennis’s hand and they went through the doors of the girls’ toilet.

And into another world…

Boys treated the “boys’ room” as a purely functional place. You did what you needed to do, maybe wrote something rude about Mr Hawtrey on the toilet door, and then you left. Inside the girls’ room, it was like a party.

It was rammed.

Dozens of girls competed for space around the mirrors, while others chatted to their neighbours in the next cubicles.

Lisa and Dennis joined a queue for one of the toilets. Dennis wasn’t used to queuing but found that he loved it. Listening to all the girls chatter to each other and then bustle around each other seemed so new. Without the presence of boys, girls seemed to behave so differently. They talked and laughed and shared everything.

The giggles, the glitter, the glamorous make-up… what a perfect world it was!

Lisa touched up her lipstick. She was about to put her make-up bag away when she paused.

“Do you want me to do yours too?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, please,” said Dennis in his best French accent.

“Let me see,” said Lisa, reaching into her bag. “Maybe we should try a different lipstick colour?”

“I’ve got a lovely pink one here, Lisa,” chirped one of the girls.

“I just bought this new eye shadow,” said another. Before Dennis could say anything, all these girls were fussing around him, helping to apply lip liner, foundation, blusher, eye liner, mascara, lipstick… everything.

Dennis hadn’t been so happy in years. All these girls chatting to him, making him feel special. He was in heaven.

13 Double French (#ulink_3e2008be-0a8a-5f7f-adfe-c71aae066d12)

“This is hell,” whispered Dennis.

“Shush,” said Lisa.

“You didn’t tell me you had French today.”

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” said Dennis.

“Shush. And actually, it’s double French.”

“Double French?”

“Bonjour, la classe,” said Miss Windsor loudly as she entered. Dennis prayed she wouldn’t recognise him from the detention.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle Windsor,” said the class in unison. Miss Windsor always started the classes in French. It gave the false impression that the pupils were all fluent French speakers. Suddenly, she spotted the girl in the orange dress and all the make-up. Miss Windsor couldn’t fail to notice her, really. She stood out like a disco-ball in the gloom of the classroom.

“Et qui êtes-vous?” she enquired. Dennis sat frozen with fear, with a terrible feeling he was about to throw up or pee, or both simultaneously, if that was at all possible.

Frustrated by the lack of response, Miss Windsor abandoned the French speaking, as she usually had to after the a few seconds of entering the classroom, and continued in English. “Who are you?” she repeated.

Still Dennis sat in silence.

Everyone looked at Lisa. She gulped. “She’s my German pen-pal, Miss,” she said.

“I thought you said she was French,” said Mac innocently, his voice slightly muffled by the Rolo he was chewing.

“Oh, yes, sorry. French pen-pal. Thanks, Mac,” said Lisa pointedly. She shot him an angry look and he frowned, looking hurt and baffled.

Miss Windsor’s face instantly glowed with joy. She hadn’t smiled so much since winning her campaign for the school canteen to serve baguettes at lunchtime.

“Ah, mais soyez la bienvenue! Quel grand plaisir de vous accueillir dans notre humble salle de classe! C’est tout simplement merveilleux! J’ai tant de questions à vous poser. De quelle région de la France venez-vous? Comment sont les écoles là-bas? Quel est votre passe-temps favori? Que font vos parents dans la vie? S’il-vous-plaît, venez au tableau et décrivez votre vie en France pour que nous puissions tous en bénéficier. Ces élèves pourraient tirer grand profit d’un entretien avec une vraie Française telle que vous! Mais rendez-moi un service, ne me corrigez pas devant eux!”

Like everyone in the class, and indeed like most people reading this book except for the exceptionally clever or French ones, Dennis had absolutely no idea what Miss Windsor was going on about. I don’t know either–I had to get a friend who had passed their French GCSE to translate it for me. Basically, though, Miss Windsor is delighted to have a real French person in her class and is asking lots of questions about life in France. I hope so anyway, unless my friend is playing a horrible joke on me and Miss Windsor is talking about her favourite episodes of Spongebob Squarepants or something.

“Er… oui,” said Dennis, hoping that by simply saying yes, he couldn’t get himself into too much trouble. Unfortunately, Miss Windsor became even more animated, and led Dennis up to the front of the class, still declaiming excitedly in French.

“Oui, c’est vraiment merveilleux. On devrait faire cela tous les jours! Faire venir des élèves dont le français est la langue maternelle! Ce sont les jours comme celui-ci que je me souviens pourquoi j’ai voulu devenir prof. S’il-vous-plaît, racontez-nous vos premières impressions de l’Angleterre.”

Dennis stood still in front of everyone. Lisa looked like she wanted to shout out and help, but couldn’t make a sound.

Dennis felt as if he was underwater or in a dream. He looked out into the eerie stillness of the room. Everyone stared at him. Nothing moved except Mac’s jaw.

Rolos are extremely chewy.

“May I speak in English one moment?” asked Dennis in a tentative French accent.

Miss Windsor looked a little surprised and a lot disappointed. “Yes, of course.”

“Errrm, ’ow can I put this, how you say… politely?”

“Poliment, oui.”

“Madame Windsor,” continued Dennis, “your French accent is very poor and I am very sorry but I cannot understand anything you are saying.”

Some of the pupils laughed cruelly. A single tear appeared in Miss Windsor’s eye and rolled down her cheek.