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.