Battle Cat is still missing

Last night I didn't sleep very well, I kept waking up thinking I heard scratching at the door but when I went down Battle Cat wasn't there. I went out early this morning down the Lagan Meadows again but I couldn't see him anywhere. I shouted for a good bit but he never came.

I walked up to the Death Owl's house and knocked on his door for ages but there was no answer. The Superstar DJ that lived next door came out and told me that he didn't live there any more. I asked him if he knew where he'd went and he just shrugged.

"I'm too busy thinking about music to care about stuff like that," he said looking away modestly.
"My dog's missing," I said
"Music," he shrugged insistantly.

I wanted to tell him his stuff was pish but I just wandered off up the road. I'm only just in now. Me and Fabian are going back out in a bit.

My Dog is Missing

Battle Cat got out this morning. At first I thought it was satanists but I told myself I was just being paranoid. I first found out when I went to feed him. The gate was open and he was away.

I woke Fabian Wildman and he came out to help me look for him. We searched all the nearby streets but he was nowhere to be seen. Both of us were running about in oul tracksuit bottoms so we went back to get dressed before searching more.

The Sweaty Metallers and their new recruit, The Banshee, were just about to go in for a heavy metal rock and roll jam when they saw I was crying. They asked what was up and I told them Battle Cat was missing. They said they'd come and help me but I said it was okay. They insisted they were helping, so me and Fabian Wildman went and got dressed and met them back outside. Mr Spoon was there too and he said he'd help. Fabian Wildman phoned Betty Blue who said she'd meet us down at the Lagan Meadows.

We split into three groups Me and Mr Spoon, Fabian and Betty Blue, and the Sweaty Metallers and The Banshee. We searched for hours but there was no sign of him anywhere. Me and Mr Spoon went into Botanic Gardens and then up to Ormeau Park. Fabian and Betty Blue checked The Lagan Meadows as far down as Shaw's Bridge and The Sweaty Metallers and The Banshee checked further up the path from the Ormeau Road out to the Obel Tower but no luck. I'm just back in to get some food and then I'm off out again for another look.

Rock and Roll is Here To Stay

The Sweaty Metallers called round today to ask if I wanted to go to a heavy metal vomit party and I made up some excuse not to go because I was too pissed off, all that screaming and acting cool for nothing. I'd just be nobody at one of those parties. I wouldn't be able to look any of the cool dudes in the eye and I wouldn't be getting any hot metal girls.

Fabian Wildman said I should go, just to say there's no hard feelings and I might meet some people who want to start up a band. I told him that I always felt like a fake in the band and I didn't know how to sing. He shrugged and says it'd beat staying home, so I went.

I walked into the party and asked if anyone wanted to start a band with me and no one said anything. I was relegated to talking to this guy who had nothing to say for himself other than "I have a prince albert" and "my wife didn't leave me, I left her." It was so depressing I went upstairs to see what I could steal.

I was going through a girls make up bag for money when she came upon me, she looked really shocked like she was going to scream the house down.

"Mind if I borrow your lipstick?" I asked.

This changed everything, five minutes later we were plastered in her lipstick and getting it on ontop of loads of coats.

I boked in her mouth and she boked in mine it was so beautiful. Then after it all she said:

"It's great the way you can just cop off with people at these parties and it doesn't mean anything."

Just as I'd my phone out to take her number. I quietly put it back in my pocket and cried silently as she left the room.

One day I'll find what I'm looking for, but last night I couldn't find anything, not even a tenner or a mobile in one person's coat. I must be losing my touch.

New Job on the Horizon

Despite the credit crunch I've managed to line myself up with a job interview for later in the week. It's with a swanky hotel in Belfast (though I'm not going to tell you which one in case someone who works there might read this). The only problem is that I don't have any nice clothes to wear to the interview.

Clothes have been a big problem for me for a while now and to be honest with you anything I would like to wear is too dear. Fabian Wildman suggested charity shops but I told him I wouldn't feel right shoplifting out of a charity shop. He told me I could apply for some grant through the dole to get clothes for an interview so off I raced back down to the dole only to be told that there was a grant but it took weeks to get sorted, anyway fuck that. They said I could have a crisis loan, even though I was saving those up for some day when I really needed a good smoke of crack but now I don't do crack I got £35 and hit the charity shops. There was fuck all I liked. It would all have left me looking like a tramp at a 70s wedding. I went home in tears knowing I'd never get the job but Betty Blue was there and told me she gets all her best clothes out of charity shops and she'd come with me and get me nice clothes.

Off we went and after a few hours in Botanic I came away with a snazzy suit and some nice shirts and even a tie. The only thing I've left is the shoes which I know where I can knick them from.

I had a few bob left over so we went for a coffee in Clements. Betty Blue says she hates Starbucks even though the one in Botanic is nice. It was nice hanging out with her because the only time I see her is with Fabian Wildman and we've never really chatted much. Turns out Betty Blue is an art student at UU on York St. I said it all sounded cool even though I don't really get all the dead sharks and that stuff. She said that she hopes her and Fabian Wildman will get married one day but not until she finishes her degree. I know for a fact that Fabian Wildman doesn't believe in marriage and even though he doesn't understand it he likes to think he's a communist.

He says he'd sooner lick the bowl than get married. I'd do both if I'd a girlfriend and was serious about her because I love to lick the bowl.

Foosted Wotsit Head is Running Scared

I went looking for Foosted Wotsit head today because I was supposed to be taking him to a hypnotist to find out about his violent dreams involving my missing brother but he was also no where to be found. I asked around and the last anyone saw him he was wandering around Sailor Town telling people that he needed a ride out of town, and some fat bastard truck driver apparently gave him a ride to Lisburn and no one's heard from him since.

Battle Cat was also out enjoying woofing and pissing and shitting in the Lagan Meadows when a man told me he'd arrest me for it, it was a big hard lump of shite so I kicked it in the Lagan. He said that would do no good that he'd be fining me for this. I told him if he was going to fine me I was going to let Battle Cat bite people and said he'd have the dog put down. I asked him if he'd like to be my friend because the only reason he could be such a wanker was if no one had ever been his friend and he said that he had all the friends he needed, he just liked being good at his job and I told him that I believed in civil disobedience and that if he wanted to give me a fine he didn't know my name or address and if he followed me home I'd have no choice but to follow him home and he'd not want me knowing where he lived because he wouldn't sleep a wink at night and for good reason and that I'd put a rat in his letter box or a poisonous snake in the middle of the night and he'd need to use his commission from the fine to pay to get ride of them or ask a friend to suck the poison out of his ball bag when the fucking thing bit him mutherfucker.

He walked away in tears. I shouted fuck the system but then I realised he might have called the cops and I ran like a mutherfucker.

Humpy Fuckers

I was out walking Battle Cat today when I saw Good King Thumpo. He was all angry and shaking his fist at some oul man out walking his dog.

I asked him how he was and he told me that he had split up with his girlfriend. I didn't know he had a girlfriend but his sort always do (hard fuckers who lick to kick people's fuck in).

I asked him who his girlfriend was and he told me it was some wee hippy doll who did voodoo. The more he talked about it the more it sounded like Hooka and I remembered how crap that had went and I asked him a bit more about her and yes she did indeed have a cat called Gobbolino and a few other things.

Battle Cat woofed excitedly when Gobbolino was mentioned, and I hoped Good King Thumpo wouldn't twig that they used to be mates.

On the one hand I was glad she'd split up from Fat Rab but I started wondering why the fuck she'd went out with Good King Thumpo and not me.

Then Good King Thumpo said he didn't think she was over he last boyfriend. This sucked even more. I told Good King Thumpo he should kick fuck out of him, I hope he does, just for old times sake.

I'm now on Facebook by the way so if you want to be my mate then click on this

Lonely Mrs. Puddinghead - Part 2

So I've this plan to get a new job and I pop off to the job centre to find that it's full of folk wanting jobs, all the oul gang are still there but they're outnumbered by all these high fallutin types wanting work. It's not cool, except Mrs Puddinghead is well busy and really pissed off that's she's speaking to people who actually want to work for a change.

I start looking through the jobs and see there's one for a kissogram. I think this would rock for me because I could borrow Fabian Wildman's Zentai and rock out to fuck in a house full of lovely ladies all wanting kissed. I would but I remember one time spying on Mrs. Puddinghead (out of boredom) and seeing a male kissogram show up to her lonely house night after night but then one night the kissogram didn't come any more and I asked The Albino about it one time he was in a good mood and he laughed and told me that she'd been blacklisted by every kissogram company in the province because she always liked to look on their visits as dates and wanted to move their relationship to the next level but they wouldn't and how she cried and begged and bought them chocolates and expensive brandy. He laughed so much his cheeks turned a pinkish-white. Nasty bastard.

I don't like Mrs Puddinghead but that's one of the saddest stories I've ever heard. I remembered her crying the other week and I still think she's a bitch but I can't help but feel sorry for her. I think I'll just avoid her in here if I can (I was trying to do that anyway) or just recognise that her nastiness is just a reaction to the love she sees everywhere but never feels herself.

I'm in Love with a Fairy Tale

Fabian Wildman and Betty Blue watched Eurovision together the other night, I didn't because I hate it. Fabian Wildman has been in a bad mood ever since about the Norwegian entry (which won, and which I'm not going to show here because it's balls). Anyways, I caught him talking on his mobile this morning to some Norwegian holiday firm asking them if they would give him the wee bastard's address, just to send "hate mail" he winked at me when he said this and showed me his balled fist. They hung up on him.

I told him about getting kicked out of the band. And how I've just been sitting round the house licking my wounds and wanting to lick the bowl. He agreed, he says he loves to lick the bowl. I told him I felt hurt by the sweaty metallers and that I'd thought we were friends. He gave me a sympathetic look and asked if I wanted a smoke of crack. I told him no. I told him I wanted to get a job. He told me that I needed to be careful because the work almost destroyed him and it was crack that helped him get his life back on track. I told him that being a crackhead wasn't the same as having your life back on crack. He just rolled his eyes and boiled some eggs.

I HATE WESTLIFE

I'm feeling better and I've been up and at 'em since yesterday. I went round the sweaty metallers to tell them I was excited about our next jam and about the banshee singing with us. That's when they sat me down and between them (they're hard to tell apart, and they rarely are apart, that's why I always talk about the two of them together) that they also like the banshee and don't know where I fit into the band anymore. I nearly screamed at them, no one screams like I scream, I thought but then I remembered what the banshee sounded like through the walls.

They must have seen the look on my face because they said they hoped we could still be mates and they'd still take me to rock and roll vomit parties. I told them that would be nice but to be honest I don't believe it.

I went to their toilet and pished all over the seat. Then I left, still friends.

In the Cold Cold Night

Still ill on Wednesday so I couldn't make the Jam next door. The sweaty metallers were disappointed but they went ahead with the jam anyway because they were trying out some new girl on backing vocals. She screamed and howled like a banshee. It was blood curdling. Fabian Wildman didn't sleep a wink the whole night and it was nothing to do with Betty Blue. He came walking into my room at 3 in the morning and asked me where the light switch was. I told him the light was already on and he asked how come he was eternally in darkness.

He told me that as a kid he had wanted to be cool when he grew up and own his own car and go out to the club with his buddies after a week of working hard, it would be now time to play hard. And not that he'd anything against me, because he liked me, but his life wasn't taking the shape he'd hoped it would.

Then he spoiled it all by saying:

"I'm very deep you know, I often ask myself the big questions."

I told him that I didn't have any answers and that I'd maybe hoped my life would have been different but there you go. I think Fabian might ask himself the big questions but then he'd probably go for a wank before he found the answers.

Still Ill

I'm still sick in bed so I've not much to report but I've been tagged by bloggerKiller, so I have to tell you eight pointless things. He's already tagged Well Done Fillet so I won't tag him but thought I'd direct you his way all the same.

Anyway here are my eight pointless things:

1) I now own a dog but I always wanted a pet pig.

2) My favourite Doctor Who is Colin Baker (the supposedly unpopular one).

3)I was once in a music video for the pop band Ash, but my part ended up on the cutting room floor.

4) My favourite singer is Ashanti but if she were ugly this wouldn't be the case.

5) Michael Caine is a distant relative of mine but we've never met.

6)I have completed a rubik's cube five times in my life.

7) I don't have a criminal record.

8) My favourite thing to shoplift if shampoo.

Now these people have to give you a cool eight:

Nelly's Garden

Obnoxio The Clown

Dave

Hannah

Monkey Flu strikes me too!

Today I've been lying in bed with monkey flu (the disease that dickheads get when they get a cold and think it's the latest epidemic). After a very shaky night last night I'm glad it's not swine flu. Fabian Wildman and Betty Blue have been banging away and it's hard to sleep with the sun blasting into my room. I've got Battle Cat upstairs for company but he wasn't as house trained as we thought so I've a lump of shite to clean off the floor. It'd be super cool if he'd eat it like a lot of dogs do. I might hunger him a bit tonight to see if he will but I don't like being mean to the wee thing. He looks to me to be nice to him.

The sweaty metallers called round earlier to see about arranging a jam. I said I should be better by Wednesday and they said that was smokin' hot.

How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning?

So I came downstairs this morning to find that there were no eggs in the fridge. This meant Betty Blue was round. I realised I hadn't seen her in a while.

Fabian came down the stairs in a crappy tracksuit looking gleeful.

"Me and Betty Blue are back on!" he said excitedly.

To be honest I didn't know they were off. I'd been so caught up with the Sweaty Metal band I hadn't noticed. Then I remembered him sitting crying in the livingroom about a month ago. Poor guy, I'm glad they're back together.

"That's great Fabian Wildman," I say "She's pretty cool."

This isn't strictly true, I've barely had a conversation with her but she makes Fabian happy when she's around, so I want to say something nice.

"Yeah, she was going out with some muso dick called Peace Man (oops!) for a few weeks. But that's over, I was acting like a prick anyway. Going over all that nasty shit about foreigners. Sorry if I said it to you I was just pissed off with my shit job, then losing my shit job. I thought it was all about the respectability of having a job until I realised that having a shit one was destroying my self respect. Fuck that. Anyways, gotta go buy some eggs."

He licks his lips greedily at this. He can see from my face that I didn't really get what he was saying. He goes into the living room and sticks on this song.

"This is what I was trying to say. These guys say it better."

Crack Memories

I once pished myself on a bus, when I was high on crack. I'm saying this because I'm strongly tempted to have some because Fabian Wildman is giggling about all over the house high and happy and I'm starting to miss it.

Part of me thinks I should kick him out because much as he's bad for me.

Anyways when I pished myself it was on a bus back from my metaller brother's house in Larne. Balkazaler (the Daemon who looks like Sammy Wilson of The DUP) was sitting beside me at the time refusing to give his seat up for an old age pensioner, when I heard a dripping sound.

"I think you've spilt your Lucozade," he chortled.

"Oh crumbs," I spat looking up into the wee old woman's face. "If you tell anyone about this I'll find you."

Then I got off at the next stop.

When I looked back at the bus window the old bitch was cackling away to herself even though she was now sitting in a puddle of my pish.

Talentless Celebrity Hack Bastards

I was walking down the Lagan tow-path today with Battle Cat when I came across more writing on the ground. It was a note pad which said Property of O_________ McA________ celebrity columnist! On it.

It was full of scrawlings about how much she wish she had been a fuck flap with a wine bottle while on TV instead of the other burd (her words not mine). there was a bit X through the scrawl and a cheeky reminder saying "don't write while cunted up on red wine".

I let Battle Cat pish on it then I kicked it into the Lagan. I took aim at the malards because they bully the smaller ducks. Motherfuckers.

Lonely Mrs. Puddinghead

Today I had to go down to the dole office to see about New Deal which is a load of bullshit. I told Mrs. Puddinghead about my Sweaty Metal Band. She snorted up her piggy nose and rolled her wonky eye more than usual and asked had I never played a Lambeg. I told her that I might use her head as a bongo and break the skin (if you know what I mean) she threatened to sign me off and I kicked the counter and told her that I knew where she lived and it was me who had been the cause of the rats she got that summer when she went on holiday and unless she wanted to wake up some night to find me in the corner of her bedroom bouncing up and down on a trampet (small trampoline) then she'd better sign me on.

She burst into tears and said she wouldn't mind finding me there because she gets awful lonely. She started to shake with tears. I reached across the desk and held her hand and she looked up grateful for a little contact from another human. In that moment something good passed between us, then her wonky eye rolled away and she spat "fuck you and your sweaty metal, the system will grind you to dust and you'll blow away" she still signed me on though, even if I gave her the fingers on my way out the door.

When I got home Fabian Wildman was screwing a suspension harness into the ceiling of the livingroom. He looked very excited. He stopped occasionally to huff a bag of glue at his side and dance. This is the song he was dancing to (apparently it was the song that won Eurovision for Estonia in 2001):