Monkey Flu Comes To Belfast

Today I woke up to screaming, it was different screaming to Fabian Wildman's sex screams. I went running downstairs to find it was Fabian Wildman. He was standing in the kitchen with his hand under the cold tap screaming and crying.

"What's wrong? Did you burn yourself?" I asked.

"No!" he screamed. "I've been infected with Monkey Flu!"

"You mean swine flu?" I asked recoiling from him like I would from granny porn.

"NO! MONKEY FLU!"

"What's monkey flu?" I asked.

"You get it from eating beige foods!" he squeeled. "It makes you shit and piss yourself turn about and then you die,"

"Beige foods?" I asked wondering why he'd his hand under the tap.

"You know buns, pastries, all that shit that tramps eat, now one of the fuckers has bit me! Fuck those gypsy bastards down castle street! I only reached into his tin looking for crack money!"

"Maybe if you did an honest days begging instead of stealing you'd have the money now instead of monkey flu, which by the way sounds like a load of balls to me."

"You'll be sorry when you find me dead!" he squeeled running up the stairs in a wild panic. He locked himself in the toilet and he's been there ever since.

Fabian is coming off crack again

I've been lying round the house, thinking of getting the old leotard back on, Fabian Wildman has bee rolling around in his zentai all day because he ran out of crack. He melted the front of one yesterday because he was sliding so much around the house, there's a big bit of melted carpet in the hall.

He keeps saying all this mad shit about how "Al Pacino is coming back, back through the flames" he flickers his tongue when he says flame. I wish he'd fuck up because it was funny for five minutes, now it's just creeping me out. He keeps breaking Al Pacino's name down and just parts of it. He just let a gigantic howl out of him and I thought something was wrong but when I went to see what it was he was just doing the crab and giggling all gleeful like a dog who's licked its own balls.

Johnny Davro and Peace Man come to a Jam

Today I was jamming with the sweaty metallers. It was wild, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. It was a new song and there were no lyrics yet so I just kept screaming about Satan! and Sex!

Johnny Davro and Peace Man were there, they are the coolest dudes in the city and they make the scene. If they go to a gig and stay for longer than one beer then whatever band are onstage have made it in Belfast.

In the middle of the jam Johnny Davro got up and started dancing all slow and metaphorically. Peace Man sat clicking his fingers. The sweaty metallers stood there nodding proudly between each other. Then when the song ended Johnny Davro asked me if I'd ever heard of Rimbaud? I thought he said Rambo so I nodded excitedly. He smiled a knowing smile and said:

"I thought I heard some of his influences in there."

After he left, the sweaty metallers said that he must like me because he said more to me today that he's said to members of his own family in his entire life.

I felt so cool I skipped next door and told Fabian Wildman, he was too busy slithering around the floor in his Zentai screaming:

"Mummy let me lick the bowl!"

I know how he feels. I love to lick the bowl.

Hot Fun in the Sunshine

I took Battle Cat for a walk down the Lagan Meadows today, Fabian Wildman came with us. It was nice just hanging out the three of us like the old days. It made me think about how lonely I used to be and how I'm not any more and Fabian and Battle Cat were the start of it ending. Though part of me is questioning how that's changing. Battle Cat was bought to eat The Death Owl but now we never see him and even if we did I wouldn't want Battle Cat to eat anyone. Fabian used to be really cool then he became a yuppie, then a racist, now he's a crackhead again but he seems so much sadder than before, like he thought when he quit everything else would start working, but he's tried that and now he's decided to settle for being a crack head.

I didn't say any of this. I bought me and Fabian Wildman a twelve pack. We walked down about half way to Shaw's Bridge and sat guzzling them in the grass and sun. After we'd finished Fabian pulled out the crack pipe but I told him if he smoked that I wasn't carrying him home. I thought he was going to spark it up but he put it back in his pocket.

"It'll keep till later," he said.

Like so many things, I thought.

No Way, No Way

This has to be the worst song I've ever heard, and I quite liked it when it was the Muppets' theme. Anyway, I had forgotten about this almost (it was always there, or had just finished, when I woke shivering on cold nights and I would have worked it out if I hadn't been scrambling to work out where I was). I came home last night from a smokin' hot jam with my sweaty metal band when I found that Fabian Wildman had thrown a party and invited the cast of the video along (I'm not sure if it was the real cast but it looked like them).

I often wonder what's happened to him, whatever happened to the Fabian that ate boiled eggs out of Betty Blue's pussy? Back to my Doctor Who analogy for Fabian Wildman because I think this sums him up. He's like when Paul McGann did the TV Movie. You could tell at the heart of it all he was the right guy and he was very much in the right place but everything else about it stank. So yeah, I want Fabian to be cool and fearless again and not moping around on crack with this skanky bunch.

Britain's Got Talent - Tuesday Kid's Got Skills

I've only just found out about Britain's Got Talent and I've had a radical cool idea for if it comes to Belfast. I'm not gonna play smokin' hot solos for them, oh no. What I'm gonna do is kick fuck out of Piers Morgan. I'll say my skill is Chinese Gung-Fu then slap the mutherfucker about the room. Any security that try to stop me will get slapped to fuck as well. Then when he's a sorry mess I'll say to Simon Cowell and Amanda Holden "Vote me through to the next round or you're next." Then I'll get to fuck Piers up all over again in the next round.

That said I'm taking Foosted Wotsit Head to a hypnotist to see if we can find out more about his freaky dreams and Wino Jo.

Foosted Wotsit Head has More Dreams

Sorry I haven't been blogging so much recently but my life is now a whirl of Heavy Metal Vomit Parties and Electric Rock and Roll Guitar. So much so that I've been neglecting nearly everything except partying down and licking the bowl. It's great. I went to a party in the Four Winds yesterday and there was mudwrestling ladies there. I have been having so much fun that I've forgotten to take Battle Cat for walkie but luckily racist Fabian is doing it. I've forgotten so much that I heard a rapping at my door the other night and answered it to find Foosted Wotsit Head standing outside crying.

He told me that he's having nightmares about a violent encounter with Wino Jo and he's scared he did something to him.

I told him if he has I'd personally see to it that he gets kicked down a flight of stairs. He started to get edgy and twitchy and told me that he could do violent things to me, he said he's the best streetfighter out of the scabby nettle gang. He has a twitchy wee rock and roll step that he uses to sort boyos like me out.

"Oh yeah?" I said. "Well I've got a Heavy Metal step."

Then I booted him through a double glazed window. Then I picked up a flying V guitar and played a smokin' hot electric solo.

Fabian Seems Stranger

Today I came down to find Fabian Wildman sitting crying in the livingroom. He won't tell me what's up though to be honest it could be a whole range of things I already know about and a number of things I don't; maybe it's all getting to him.

He had run out of lighters and doesn't get any dole until next Thursday. He doesn't sleep much and takes Battle Cat off for long walks when the sun comes up and doesn't return until well after noon.

He's been listening to the Kate Bush album Hounds of Love non stop and while it's a pretty cool album it's a bit unnerving especially his obsession with one track Waking The Witch:



Anyways I went round the Sweaty Metaller's house to talk about band stuff. They've heard Kate Bush playing and thought it was me playing it. They say it's the coolest, so I just nodded and said it was me.

They told me that they had been speaking to Peace Man and Johnny Davro about me and it seems I out cooled them because they have been talking non-stop about how cool I am. I guess I am.

Heil Fabian!

I've been a bit disturbed about Fabian Wildman's drunken outbursts and rather than blow up at him and start going over a load of old PC shite I decided to take the softly softly approach. Basically if he's recently been talked into this, it might be easy enough to talk him out of it.

So I sat down with him last night and asked what the craic was?

He told me that he wasn't a racist but that he didn't want poles taking our jobs.

I asked him if it was because he got fired.

He said no it wasn't.

I asked him if he thought that it was right that people from this country go all over the world taking jobs.

He shrugged and then showed me a text he'd got with a polish joke on it about how a hundred poles died in belfast last night when the bed 60 of them were sleeping on collapsed killing them and the 40 sleeping underneath.

I told him I didn't think it was funny. I asked him if he was upset about other stuff.

"No," he replied. "I just want to huff gas all day."

Then he brought out his 5 lighters for a pound and started huffing away.

This isn't over yet.