When I came round this morning I felt awful. I sat in my room and shook for ages.
Fabian Wildman came in and asked was I okay. He says he could hear my bed jingle and it didn't sound like wanking.
I told him about hitting the Razorlight fan.
He asked if I wanted him to go and talk to him and settle things. It was a kind offer but I really need to start sorting some of my own messes out.
He said it was okay because he remembers how I cleaned up his boke when he gave up and that's why he doesn't mind doing the same for me now.
I told him I'd take this one.
I had a shower and went over the road with a wee present for the indie boy.
He opened the door and looked all scared at me.
"I've just come over to say sorry about hitting you last night," I said.
He looked like he wasn't buying it.
"I've a wee present for ye," I said. "Can I come in?"
He opened the door and stood back.
I gave him a bit of paper that said "Johnny Borrell".
"Let me tell you how I got this," I said. "Years ago Johnny Borrell was on crack like me. He went to Donaghadee to help him give it up. I met him when he was there. He was always walking around, wearing sunglasses and playing electric rock and roll guitar. I told him that I thought he was a cool dude. I told him I thought he'd go far and be famous. I asked him for his autograph because when I saw him on tv I wanted to be able to say I was the first person to get his autograph. So he gave it to me. And now I'm giving it to you."
You should have seen the wee indie lad's face light up. It was like I'd just shown him how to levitate because he could have floated by the look on his face.
He offered me a smoke of a spliffy but I told him I was grand as long as we were cool.
He said we were.
I wished him luck and left.
