Angus, Thongs And Perfect Snogging Is Still The Best Depiction Of Girlhood Ever Made

Today, Angus, Thongs And Perfect Snogging turns 14— two years older than I was when the film first came out in 2008. Sat in the cinema with spotty hormonal skin and horrendous yet somehow on-trend jeggings, I learnt endless and invaluable lessons from my 100 minutes watching Georgia, Jas, Rosie and Ellen tumble through teenagehood.

Louise Rennison’s books Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging (1999) and It’s OK, I’m Wearing Really Big Knickers (2001) had been my friendship group’s bible on becoming what the author calls ‘boylingual’. From learning to kiss on the back of our hands to putting a pencil between our cleavage to see if a bra was (finally) necessary, the series’ advice was unapologetically cringe—and the most realistic portrayal of our schoolgirls’ lives we’d ever seen.

Boys, an enigma, were still shuffling awkwardly on the other side of village halls at discos or (at best) pinging our bra straps and nudging us on MSN as a supposed indicator of affection. Amongst the chaos and confusion that was our first sexual enlightenment, Angus, Thongs And Perfect Snogging taught us to read between the lines of ‘see YOU later’ and ‘SEE you later’ while reminding us it was okay to be ‘bonkers’ and to never ever shave your eyebrows.

On the anniversary of the release of the best film of all time, here are the most important lessons we learnt from Angus, Thongs And Perfect Snogging.

When it comes to tongues, less is more

As Georgia entered Peter Dyer’s room and perched happily on the end of his bed, we hoped her first kiss would be magic. But much like our own eventual encounters, the snog more accurately resembled a saliva filled washing machine. The slurps as they separated were truly haunting and forever solidified the Frenching fact that sucking on someone’s mouth like a demonic octopus is Just. Not. Hot.

It doesn’t matter if you have a big nose or tiny tits

Georgia does a lot of questionable things to improve her supposedly subpar appearance: hair falls out from peroxide; legs go tango orange from fake tan fuck ups. But, in the end, after pandering to the niggling appearance-conscious thoughts that dominate school years she eases into herself and offered us all a borderline unrealistic sense of security: ‘I don’t care anymore about looking perfect,’ she says. ‘it’s so overrated. I don’t need a nose job or blonde hair because my sex-god boyfriend likes me JUST the way I am.’

Arguing doesn’t mean your friendship is over

Forget Robbie, the real heartbreak of Angus, Thongs is when Georgia and Jas aren’t talking. After the betrayal of her best friend getting a boyfriend before she does and suddenly befriending her number one enemy Lindsay, Georgia (unmelodramatic as ever) prepares to pack up her life and move to New Zealand. But on her fifteenth birthday Jas comes through as the hero, organises a surprise party, lobs Lindsay’s chicken filet breast pads into a crowd of guests and reminded us that just because your best friend is driving you clinically up the wall—it doesn’t mean you love them any less.

Game playing will get you nowhere in the end

Dave the laugh deserved better. Georgia used him like a pawn to make Robbie jealous and in the process hurt everyone’s feelings. Consequently, she was dubbed ‘bitch in uniform’ in the next Stiff Dylans’ song and exemplified that, while romantic manoeuvring might secure short-term attention, there’s also quite a high chance it could seriously piss everyone off. Proceed with caution.

Boys do like girls for funniness, actually

Over the course of Angus, Thongs, Georgia goes from ‘sad olive girl’ to Robbie’s ‘perfect nutter’. The film empowered a whole generation of girls to dress up as dinner party nibbles with scarlet red tights and a matching beanie—secure in the optimistic knowledge that the hottest guy at the party would find it as funny as they did.

Girlhood is filled with personality quizzes, stupid nicknames, bad fashion choices, oily skin and embarrassment. But the right guy is the one who embraces your eccentricity and the gaggle of girls who helped shape it.