Sue Limb Quotes

Gran! Gran?' yelled Jess, racing upstairs. She looked everywhere. Nothing. No aged person. Only Rasputin, looking startled and disapproving. 'Where's Gran, Rasputin? For goodness' sake! Have you eaten her?' cried Jess. Rasputin looked shocked and innocent.

Fred just shrugged enigmatically. 'What? Just a load of girls going to the toilet? Personally I prefer wildlife videos.

Geographically, Jess's backside was a mountain range. The sun rose over it -eventually. Huge birds of prey nested on its craggy heights and hunted in its shadows. It wouldn't have been so bad if Jess's bum had been balanced by a nice big bosom. Jennifer Lopez, Britney Spears, and Serena Williams were designed with this pleasing sense of balance. But geographically, Jess's boobs could not balance her bum at all. Her chest was the kind of featureless plain upon which airports are constructed.

(Flora) "No, Jess- it'll take hours. Just go and see Mr. Powell and fess up. It's the only way. Crawl and grovel and offer to do all sorts of remedial thingies. That's what I do with my dad. And do it with captivating feminine charm. That always works on Dad. I stroke his hair. It never fails."
"I can't stroke Mr. Powell's hair, for God's sake!" A horrible hallucination flashed through Jess's mind.

I'm really sorry, Jess, but she's going to have to have your room.'

'My room?' exploded Jess. 'There's a perfectly good spare room upstairs!'

'Yes, but you see, darling, Granny can't manage stairs quite so easily anymore. Since Grandpa died and she had that fall, you know- well, her house is too much for her to manage on her own. [...] Granny has to be on the ground floor, love. She can use the groundfloor loo, and we'll convert the old coal shed at the back into a bathroom.'

Jess was too furious to speak. No, wait, she wasn't. 'Where am I supposed to sleep then?' she snapped. 'Out on the pavement?

Virgo: Your teddy bear will reveal that he is pregnant and will require counseling.

Useless, idle, exploitative male chauvinist drone!

Later, just before she drifted off to sleep, Jess realized the ghastly fact that, just as she had assumed that Edouard smelt disgusting, Edouard's first impression of her would have been that she did. The only difference was that she really had. It was not the greatest start to their relationship.

And for two weeks I was banged up with a Hobbit who only spoke Elvish," said Jess.

Fred, shy?" Jess frowned in puzzlement.

"Lacking in confidence, I'd say, which he covers up with all this comedy stuff," suggested Luke.

Jess thought about this suggestion for a moment or two. "You know," she concluded, "ever since I dumped him, I've been waiting for him to do something amazing to get back into my good books. You know, take the initiative or something. Or even apologize properly."

"You could have a long wait," said Luke, smiling ruefully. "I think he's a passive character - he bounces off people; he reacts to situations instead of taking the initiative." ...

"I see," mused Jess. "But I kind of hate that in him, though - being so passive."

"But you don't hate Fred, do you? It's just part of his personality. And people do change sometimes. But everybody's got faults.

I swear it's true. If I lie to you, may I be changed into a sofa belonging to a fat family addicted to daytime TV and baked beans." (Fred to Jess)

The box room. No bigger than a coffin. It would be like being buried. Maybe she wouldn't keep her Barbies after all. She would make a huge bonfire in the back garden. She would burn her clothes. She would burn all her old toys (except for her old teddy bear Rasputin, obviously - he was more of a guru and personal trainer than a toy). She would burn her CDs and her CD player. She would burn all her makeup. She would shave all her hair off and burn that. She would wear only a pair of Oriental black pajamas. She would sleep in the box room on a small mat made out of rushes. The only item in the room would be a plain white saucer for her tears. Then they'd be sorry.

Fred, Fred, Fred, I'm sick of hearing about him!' snapped Jess's mum. 'He rang the other day, and straight away you were off out to meet him. Haven't you got any dignity? Any pride? Or will you just run off out at the beck and call of any Tom, Dick, or Harry?'

'Well, I wouldn't cross the road to see Tom or Dick, but if it was Prince Harry, well, now you're talking!' she said. Granny laughed. Mum looked cross and ran her fingers through her hair in a tragic and fatigued way.

Jess actually dreaded having a boyfriend, because of having to tell her mum. Perhaps she would just avoid it until her mum eighty or something and in an old-people's home, and then Jess, who would by then be about fifty, would drop by and casually remark, "Oh, by the way, Mum, I've got a boyfriend." And even then her mum would probebly hurtle out of her wheelchair and smack her hard across the face, crying "You trash! You whore! Get outta my house--I mean, my room!" It was hard sometimes, being the daughter of a radical feminist who hated men.