Words

When Tracey Jenkins speaks it’s like a bad spoof of how a teenage girl talks, full of trashy gossip, littered with omgs, lols, snorts and giggles, and bellowed across the canteen for all to hear, even me, three tables away.

 

“Fay is going out with Trevor Dunstall, they were seen getting off at Bickers last night. Sue’s back with Keith, though that will never last. And, oh my god, Freya kissed Sara on Tuesday night, with tongues and everything. I know they’ve both got boyfriends, but that was serious lezzer action. I reckon they’ll end up getting married and everything. Yeah, and did you know that Trish is going out with Nigel Evans, and that Jasmine dumped Max and that Lidia Smedley is no longer claiming she’s a virgin - she was seen on a caravan site with Jamie Snodgrass. And did you hear, Laura Craven had a pregnancy scare, she was over a month late. Luckily she did the test and everything and she was okay, which was just as well ‘cause if she had been pregnant the father would have been Jude Smedley, and how omg is that.

 

There is more information contained in one of Tracey Jenkins’ paragraphs than the combined prying of MI5 and MI6 managed to find out about the Russians during the entire Cold War. If Tracey had been alive then, she’d have found out who was sleeping with Krushev, who dumped Gorbachov after a row in the upstairs bit at Weatherspoons, who snogged Stalin at a nightclub  and which politburo members were secret lezzers.

 

If you listen to Tracey, and it’s hard not to when she’s bellowing out across the canteen, it’s mostly tedious drivel, a list of who snogged who at a nightclub, who’s pregnant or not pregnant, who fancies who. But occasionally there is important information contained within. My mind filters the entire barrage of words down to one key sentence.

 

Jasmine dumped Max.

 

Jasmine Womble, who recently accepted my Facebook friend request, who chose me as her running buddy, is on the lookout for a boyfriend.

 

As Tracey Jenkins would say: O M G