The Little Girl Who Gave Zero Fucks. J. Davis Milton
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With special thanks
to Mymedia
This edition first published in 2018
Unbound
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All rights reserved
Text © Amy Charlotte Kean, 2018
Illustrations © J. Milton, 2018
The right of Amy Charlotte Kean to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act, 1988. No part of this publication may be copied,
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form
or by any means without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be
otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in
which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed
on the subsequent purchaser.
Text Design by Carrdesignstudio.com
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-78352-645-1 (trade hbk)
ISBN 978-1-78352-644-4 (ebook)
ISBN 978-1-78352-646-8 (limited edition)
Printed in Great Britain by xxx
To Bethan, Sophie and Cecily.
I wrote this book for you (which according to Father
Christmas is worth at least three Christmas presents).
Remember: be brave, be yourself, and let other women be
themselves, too. That’s the important bit. Even the darkest
nights brighten when the stars hold each other’s hands.
Lots of love from your Aunty Amy xxx
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Some days, the world was
meant to change.
Your thoughts go bang, your
eyes turn strange
Like a magnificently coloured
kaleidoscope lens,
No matter the hows and the whys
or the whens
As the mountains have peaks and the
seas have their waves,
Some days you just know you were
born to be brave.
Elodie-Rose was a girl on a mission
In a town where girls act like obedient
kittens,
Sing soft the same tune and dance neat
the same jigs,
Wear the same flowery dresses
and pretty blonde wigs.
But Elodie-Rose vowed to change
this old world
Because Elodie-Rose isn’t like
other girls.
In this town, each morning’s the same as before.
Girls wake up and wash, take their socks from the floor,
Eat breakfast, brush teeth, make the messy old bed,
Pack their lunchbox with snacks for the long day ahead,
Jump quick through the Lego, the dolls and toy trucks,
Open the wardrobe, grab their basket of fucks.
Wait: ‘What are fucks?’ you might suddenly cry
As you halt to attention and rub your wide eyes!
Well, fucks are the things that girls keep in their basket
And must give away when somebody asks it.
Fucks are their blues, their esteems and their happies,
Sat in their basket ever since they wore nappies.
Fluffy or bouncy or filled with slime,
Fucks have existed since day one of time.
Unparalleled energy runs through their veins,
Lively curious creatures each basket contains.
As unique as the way your own tongue says your name
No two people’s fucks are ever the same.
All girls bear the burden of fucks every day.
For when someone is mean or throws nasty their way,
If strangers start trouble or cause an upset
Their palm is outreached and a fuck they will get.
In the morning girls’ baskets are full and stand tall,
But by bedtime there’s no fucking fucks left at all.
When the sun sets, girls sleep, have the
brightest of dreams
Of giraffes and quad biking and jelly and cream.
Becoming an astronaut or rich CEO –
To unlimited magical places they go.
Such sweet thoughts replenish their baskets of fucks,
So