I got a call from my brother today (not the fruitarian one, I have four in total). He is a metal-head and was telling me all about Heavy Metal. He says Rod Stewart and Phil Collins aren't heavy metal but I think that's balls. He's a nice guy though so I don't see why he'd take the piss.

Then almost as soon as I'd hung up the phone Hooka arrived at my front door to invite me to her Hallowe'en party. I didn't really feel like it because all that Satanism weirds me out but she said it was just going to be fun and games, no occult stuff so I said yes.

I didn't have anything to wear so she came up town with me to help me buy stuff. I decided to go as a Warlock in the end. I got a big silver beard and a blue cape. I also bought a wand out of the jokeshop on Botanic. We were walking up the street with it pretending to hex or charm people depending on what we thought they deserved. We'd only gotten as far as Molly's Yard when it stopped making the cool spell sound.

We took it back to the shop but the guy refused to let us change it for a good one.

"You bought it as you saw it," the guy said with a shrug.

"You better change this for us, or I'll come back here with a real one," Hooka threatened him.

She looked a bit scary, standing there shaking it at him with her big wild eyes and frizzy blonde hair.

He quietly and quickly got us a new one. Hooka's pretty cool, even if she's a wee bit scary.

Hope the party is cool fun.

I spent all yesterday boking and convulsing, so it was nice to sit out in my back garden with a cup of tea today. Hooka was out in her garden with big swollen face. She came over to talk to me and I was happy for her to see that the cop hadn't put any of her teeth out.

She told me all about how they were just getting ready to celebrate the pagan new year, which she says happens at Hallowe'en, and how poor Fat Rab and The Death Owl were now locked up and she was all on her own. I didn't know what to say to this but out of the blue she said.

"you know, you've nice eyes when they're not bloodshot."

Poor Hooka, she seemed really lonely but then her house is full of dead goat blood, so I'm not going to go in and keep her company.

I was thinking that because it's the pagan new year I might as well make some new year's resolutions. My system is pretty clear of drugs I'd guess, crack and coke anyway; I'm not twitching as much so it must be. I decided I'd give up the drugs. Illegal ones anyway, that and robbing people's houses.

I went into town to buy myself a present to say well done. I went into an art shop on Queen St where I used to buy felt-tips to sniff but the big fat woman behind the counter who looked like family guy was hassling some kids about trying to knick stuff so I pocketed some felt tips and some spray mount and went outside and gave it to the kids. Then I went and bought myself a big bag of buns and an Usher CD. I looked for a poster of Hermione Granger but there weren't any.

I been walking around all twee thanks to the valium. It's not cool because usually I like to feel all gangsta or rock and roll. Instead I've been listening to Nick Drake and wandering about the Lagan Meadows. It all came to a head when I found myself talking to a duck about Hermione. The duck quacked with indifference and flew off. I was soon overcome by the smell of sewage and fucked off home again. I stopped midway and poured the pills into the river.

Come halfway up the hill to the Malone Road I was twitching like a muthafucker. I bust into a car but there were no drugs. I managed to get the lid off the petrol tank and get a good oul huff of it. I felt terrible and boked all the way home where I curled up in bed and turned the heating on.

My neighbours started blasting their sweaty heavy metal through the walls but I managed to sleep anyway. I woke to screams at about two in the morning and heard cop sirens. I looked out the window to see Fat Rab (the man neighbour) getting dragged off by cops along with The Death Owl (I had no idea that creepy bastard hung out round there). They were both covered in blood. I wondered what the fuck was going on but then Hooka (the girl neighbour) came running out screaming that they had bought the goat with their own money and could sacrifice it to their lord Satan if they felt like it. A cop hit her in the mouth with their truncheon and knocked her flying. I don't like the cops but since she had started screaming about "the druggy bastard next door" (me) I'm glad he did it. A shame because she's alright to talk to sometimes if you're having a cup of tea out the back and she's out too. Now she won't be able to say anything with an F in it.

I was walking about all day wondering where I could buy some good crack. I could have went round to Fabian Wildman's but I doubt he'll let me sponge more off him. That plus I get creeped out by The Death Owl.

I sat up in Cranmore park hoping some kids would come along so I could steal their hash. I had been there four lonely hours and it was getting dark when a wee fat kid done up with a big pumpkin head came along, all dressed up for Hallowe'en.

"Trick or Treat?" he says.

"Smell my feet," I answered.

"Suck my dick," he says waddling off.

Cheeky wee bastard. He's too small to hit a clash so I just gave him the fingers. I nearly burst into tears. I started thinking about what it was like being a kid and going door to door getting money for Hallowe'en. I don't know how I got from there to here, and I wondered if I could pinpoint the exact dates and times that were most important in bringing me here. Strange to think that some days are just a normal day and not much will happen, but other days will change your life. And if you could have known they would before you got out of bed would you have just stayed there?

I started thinking of the lines of that Tegan and Sara song - Dark, you can't come soon enough for me.

How right they were, because when it got fully dark I went and broke into a house (not saying where but it was one of those snobby ones up the Lisburn Road) and stole some valium.

This will help me sleep. Sweet dreams - of walking through fields of poppies with Hermione Granger and her breath is warm, and smells like sleep. And she'll take me deeper and deeper, making me feel more magic than any crack pipe ever could.

Sorry, the valium is kicking in.

The weather was cooler today so I went to my dealer to find out he'd been busted by cops (ha ha). I suppose this is karma for him not coming to my house yesterday but it left me drugless. That is until, as I was walking home, I bumped into Fabian Wildman in the Crescent Park. He could tell by the way I was twitching that I needed something to take the edge off it, so he invited me up to his flat to smoke crack with him and his flatmate The Death Owl.

The Death Owl is a weird muthafucka who likes to set fire to his big long toenails and then stub them out before they burn his feet. He also wears a big grim reapers cloak and to be honest I don't think he's doing it for a joke (which makes it funny). 

Anyways I had a nice big smoke of the crack pipe and went out for a walk. Fabian Wildman came with me and we went about Botanic where there were lots of pictures of a guys face that had been flypostered everywhere. It was a bit weird. We wished we had markers to draw over them but he already had a silly moustache. We wanted to give him speech bubbles saying funny stuff like "I'm a wanker" but we hadn't got any. So I went home and Fabian Wildman went back to his flat with The Death Owl.

He gets a bit scared of The Death Owl sometimes. He was telling me that sometimes he wakes up to find The Death Owl standing at the foot of his bed or staring in the window at him.

Poor Fabian. I went home thankful that I don't live with scary wankers and went the fuck to my bed (still no access to coke!)

The wind is howling like a mutherfucker here in Belfast and I can't go out to buy more drugs. Worse still my dealer won't come round to sell to me because he might catch the cold and then he'll have to stay in bed to get better, and he won't be able to make money from selling drugs.

Anyways fuck him. I hoaked out all the cupboards and found a bottle of cough medicine and half a packet of Strepsils. I took them all about an hour ago and I just feel kinda woozy. Not cool. I've just been laying on my sofa thinking about how cool it would be to be Hermione Granger's boyfriend but I guess that'll never happen. It makes me so sad when I have to end daydreams with that thought.

I got a call from my asshole brother too just while I was starting to think about something else and he just reaffirmed that my Hermione thoughts were bullshit and that I should punch my own weight. What does he know? Mutherfucker does yoga and is a fruitarian so he doesn't really have any weight. I think he cheats sometimes and buys a bunch of bananas to get his dose of potassium K but he insists that's balls.

Anyways. I'm pissed off because I don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight without my two lines of coke; maybe I should have saved some of that cough medicine.

I slept well and woke up wishing peace man to all those around me. Pity my neighbours didn't reciprocate as they blasted The Scorpions Rock You Like a Hurricane loud as a muthafucka and were slam dancing and I could hear "BOOM BOOM BOOM" through the walls. I'd go round and tighten them up about it but they's cool in keeping their mouth shut about my drugs.

So I went into the city. I'd a headache from all the music. I don't mind the heavy metal: a bit of Phil Collins or Rod Stewart from time to time but the Rap music is my thing. Anyways I was in Victoria Centre and cops was hanging round bein' muthafuckas. I thought they might try and hassle me about being street but they was all occupied giving some kids a hard time about stealing CDs, lipstick and fake vampire teeth.

So I bought me a So Solid Crew CD and went home. Kept my neighbours up the fuck all night long. I left the CD playing on the stereo, did two lines of coke and went the fuck to bed.

Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself

The night was long and I'd been doing crack like a muthafucka. I needed to get some chill winston on so off I popped to the 24 hour hatch in Botanic to get me a jar of coffee and some bananas to smoke the skins.

I bought a stick of french bread and some grapes and cheese. It was nice to walk home twitchin like a muthafucka and pretending I was in France or some muthafucking shit. I kept hopin' some hot faff lookin' like Audrey Tautoo (woo who) or that beautiful baby who played la Mome in the film of the same title would hang out of a window and invite me up for "coffee" (he he he). I was in the middle of getting all drooled up thinking about it when some baddies stepped out of the shadows on the edge of Camden St and the leader pulled out a flick knife.

"You gonna give us yo groceries or is we gonna tussle?" he asked licking the blade. I dunno why he was talking like that cause he was some we ginger fruit from the Malone Road by the looks of him.

"BOO MUTHAFUCKA!!" I shouted at him, and him and the other baddies ran off screaming.

I went home and felt so happy about myself that I did two lines of coke and went the fuck to bed.

Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself

Welcome to Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself. It's a story of love, life and licking the bowl. If you're interested in crack addiction, satanism, shoplifting, heavy metal, tight spandex, Hermione Granger, smoking hot guitar solos, call centres, millies and spides, pink champagne, cross dressing, the lessons of the street, big violent dogs, cute puppies, boiled eggs, oral sex, indie music, the Lagan Meadows, Belfast, Northern Ireland, Northern Ireland's tallest building (The Obel Tower) or the possibility that Sammy Wilson MP is actually a shapeshifting demon then there's something in here for you.

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