How to Become a Dirty Old Man - Step One

Me and Battle Cat were down seeing Nanny Boo Boo today, she's always really happy to see us and I did some more stuff round the house for her. I never really fancied myself as a handy man so I'm a bit surprised at how I know to do some of the things. Anyways we were coming back along Stranmillis Embankment when we ran into Hot Baby Roy again. There was no boat race on today, or if there was it was finished, but he was standing there anyway smoking a shitty role up and looking a bit hungover.

"They should put some benches here," he said.
"I suppose," I said, it wasn't a good conversation starter.
"You've put on some weight since you've quit the crack," he remarked. He's looking far fatter than me these days.
"Let's me and you sit on a seasaw and see what happens," I said to him.

He looked a bit hurt by this and rubbed his tummy, while wincing.

"It's so cold, even though the weather is good," he said shaking his head.
"Are you on felt tips?" I asked.
He shook his head, and said he felt lonely.
I felt a wee bit sorry for him. He's a dirty fucker but I know how he feels.
"Here look at this coming," he said perking up. I turned to see a wee thing coming bouncing up in the distance wearing pop socks and a short skirt and belly top. She was too far off to see her face.
"She's either underage and hot, or legal age and ugly as fuck," he said smacking his lips greedily.
As it turned out she was about thirty and a brute boot, so he was at least half right.

"Come on Battle Cat, it's getting dark," I said, even though it was only about five o'clock. I think Hot Baby Roy knew what I meant.

i no can have cheezburger, cat's have all...

Fabian was sitting twitching and dribbling today. It wasn't a pretty sight. He was telling me all about stuff he'd done in the past. A lot of it sounded half mixed in with fantasy but something he'd never told me before was that he'd went to be tested for asperger's disorder a few years back.

An old school friend of his who is now a primary teacher said that a pupil of hers had it and the kid reminded her of Fabian Wildman when he was at school. He went to see the autistic society people on Botanic Avenue. The lady behind the counter told him that he had to make an appointment with the doctor to get tested but that she thought he was "neat" for taking the initiative. I thought of the scene from In Bed with Madonna where the old harpie makes fun of Kevin Costner.

He said the the doctor told him he might have it and that he showed signs but they were very mild and unless he felt he needed help he should think about not getting tested because he'd have it on his records for the rest of his life and regardless of equality legislation people can be prejudiced about these things.

Fabian Wildman said that he had read all these books on body language and social cues since he was a teenager and that's why it doesn't show on him so much, but he's convinced he has it.

Then he boked on himself and asked for Boom Fizzle. Personally I don't think he has it, because I know he had a sheltered upbringing, but I could be wrong.

Coddle Pot

My old fave Manuel (Well Done Fillet) is back with a sexy new blog. Check it out here www.coddlepot.com

Not So Happy Birthday for Fabian Wildman

Today was Fabian Wildman's birthday so I bought him a cake. I'm skint on the dole so it was a nice big 99p cake from the Spar. Fabian didn't mind because he's in the zentai stage of crack withdrawl. He's jittering about the place skatting morning, noon and night,

scoodley boo scoodley boo scoodley scoodley da da toe toe scooby wooby wooby wooby just hit me now wooby wooby doo doo doo pa pa pa pa de de de de boom

is all you hear from him.

He skats for a bit then he bursts into tears and screams about wanting to see his face. I don't know who's face he means, he's started talking long into the night (between skats) with someone called Boom Fizzle. Boom Fizzle owes him money and won't give it to him. It's something to do with some robbery they've both committed that went horribly wrong. Fabian Wildman wants Boom Fizzle to armwrestle for it. These conversations always end with Fabian Wildman bouncing off the walls in his room. I run in to see what's wrong and Fabian Wildman shouts:

"That mutherfucker Boom Fizzle attacked me, he'll hurt my children, stop him please."

That's when the screaming and crying starts but five minutes later he's back skatting and shaking like a crackhead.

Anyways, he got the cake and said:

"Thanks for this but I'm not sharing it with anyone but Boom Fizzle," then he went to walk upstairs and walked into a wall and squashed the cake against his chest. The whole fucking thing fell on the floor and the only one who got any way Battle Cat.

Fabian Wildman told me I could lick some cream off his chest if I wanted. I told him no and he said that "Boom Fizzle will jump at the chance."

Then the doorbell went. I thought it might be Hot Baby Roy coming to wish him well so I answered it.

It was the peelers again looking for Fabian Wildman. There he was standing covered in cream and in a Zentai. I just said, "no one's here but me and my sweet Boom Fizzle," (this is actually a lie but it sounds cooler than what I did say so fuck it, poetic licence).

The peeler fucked off them and Fabian slithered up the stairs covering them in cream.

Nanny Boo Boo says Fuck the Police

I took Battle Cat down today to see Nanny Boo Boo, she was very happy to see us and said she thought we'd have been down before this.

She had lots of sausages for Battle Cat and gave him a big bowl of them with some mouldy potatoes. He was very happy to see her and ran around the garden shouting Woof! all over the show. I noticed that her garden needed weeded, so I did that for her. I know that I don't know her very well but I started to tell her all about Fabian Wildman having to move. She said that the cops were rotten bastards and she got burgled last year and the cops showed up and asked her if maybe she'd just forgot to close her door. She said,

"Yes and I forgot that I gave away my TV too."

She said she feels sorry for me and Fabian Wildman but if he moved in next door they probably would never find him.

Fabian Wildman Gets Clean - Again

Fabian Wildman gave up crack today. I'm pleased for him but I'm not so confident it'll last. For one he says the main reason he's doing it is because he doesn't want to end up living with a dickhead when he moves out. He says I was a stroke of luck but that usually he ends up living with people like The Death Owl. The other is that he wouldn't get rid of all his crack paraphernalia.

"It costs too much to replace," he said, then when he saw the look on my face, he said "let go slow, let go for good."

It sounds like balls because I've never seen Fabian Wildman do anything he wanted to do slowly.

Fingers crossed though because I think it's really starting to take it's toll on him. I said this to him and he said he thought the same about me when I gave it up. He said I used to talk to imaginary people and cook them food. It got me thinking about Balkazaler, maybe he wasn't really real.

NI Soul Troop EP Launch

So I've known that Fabian Wildman leaving was on the cards so I decided to take him out for a wild party night out. We went to the Black Box on Sunday where there was an 8 piece band playing called NI Soul Troop. It was cool as fuck. I danced like a wild mutherfucker and so did Fabian Wildman (maybe that's how he got his last name).

There was this cool guy who had a military jacket on singing and playing an old cool fifties guitar. His singing was a bit like Van Morrison. Then there was this girl beside him and she did lots of cool singing too. There was a cool guy on sax and another cool guy on trumpet. They played all these cool bits that made me shake my arse til it near came off and went flying over the bar and hit the barman in the face (but it didn't) and a big dude on bass who was rockin out beside the drummer and the other guitarist and this funky dude on keyboards. The whole fucking band rocked the place.

They did a competition for the best dancer and I thought I was sure to win it but this dude with a mowhawk won it instead. I was a bit jealous but he did some slinky moves so fair play to him. I was especially gutted because the prize was a copy of their EP. In the end I went and bought one. It was the first CD I've bought in ages. I've gotten into the bad habit now of just lifting them from shops but it's not right to steal off bands when they're starting out. I'm glad I bought the CD because when Fabian Wildman moves out I can play it and think about all the good times we had together.

Fabian Wildman is leaving

Fabian's decided he has to move out. He can't risk the peelers catching him here, and since I've lied to them about him, he says he doesn't want to put me at risk. It's considerate but I'll miss him. We've had a lot of fun me, him and Battle Cat and I'll be sad to see him go. He says he won't be moving too far, and I'm welcome to visit him. Which will be good but it won't be the same.

I'm going to have to find a new housemate, but I don't want any fucker moving in. This is going to suck.

Fabian Wildman is leaving

Fabian's decided he has to move out. He can't risk the peelers catching him here, and since I've lied to them about him, he says he doesn't want to put me at risk. It's considerate but I'll miss him. We've had a lot of fun me, him and Battle Cat and I'll be sad to see him go. He says he won't be moving too far, and I'm welcome to visit him. Which will be good but it won't be the same.

I'm going to have to find a new housemate, but I don't want any fucker moving in. This is going to suck.

Hot Baby Roy is a Dirty Bastard

Today I walked down by the Lagan with Battle Cat. There were all these big burly women in rowing boats competing against each other. All these people rode alongside the river screaming at them to go faster and win and all that stuff. They nearly ran me and Battle Cat down. I called them fuckers and they still didn't take notice.

Fabian Wildman's mate Hot Baby Roy was standing down by the riverside.

"Hello, Tueesday Kid and Battle Cat," he said.
"Hello Hot Baby Roy, why are you watching the boat race?"
"Because these ladies are fine, fine, fine!" he screamed. He didn't take his hands out of his pocket. I could tell by the bulges that he'd cut a wee hole in the lining of his pockets so he could play with himself while he watched.

I felt awkward so I asked him how he was doing. He said he'd quit the crack and that he now hosts a quiz night at the Rangers supporters club on Sandy Row. No one there knows about the crack and he'd like to keep it that way.

I'd say none of them really want to know about the pervy trouser thing either but hey. Even big burly weightlifteer rower ladies have a right to wear tight lycra and grunt and groan in public without being treated as sex objects.

Belfast Get's Me Down Sometimes

It's indicative of Belfast being bounded by the sea and high hills that you inevitably run into some really inbred people from time to time.

Yesterday I was walking down Shaftsbury Square when I watched this mutherfucker in a car try and cut out from behind this wee old lady in a car and what the fuck happened? He nearly got hit by another car coming from the Donegal Pass. So there they both were at the lights and the wanker who cut out from behind the old ladies was sitting swearing at the other driver (the one from Donegal Pass) so what happens? The one from Donegal Pass just sat there with his window up making wanker signs at him. I really thought there was going to be major road rage and I was all prepared to split it up but it never happened. The wanker just drove off beeping his horn at anyone who cared to listen to him.

Then on my way up Botanic I met this wanker who told me that he thought I was scum and that he hated beggars. I told him that just because I hadn't washed that morning didn't make me a tramp and that my flatmate's ex-flatmate was into black magic and he should fuck off if he knew what was good for him. He wandered off and got in his car. I took the number plate down and if I ever see his fucking face around I'll be chucking stones at his shit fucking Renault (you'll never afford an Audi you bastard).

So I went home and cried in Battle Cat's empty food dish.

Trouble for Fabian Wildman

A cop showed up at our door yesterday and asked for Fabian Wildman, he said it was about the court summons he'd had a few months ago and he'd a new one for Fabian. I told him Fabian Wildman didn't live here any more and I hadn't seen him in months. The cop asked if I expected to see him again soon. I said no and told him I hadn't any contact with Fabian Wildman any more. He turned around and fucked off. Great stuff but technically I've just broken the law. I doubt the filth read my blog so I don't mind letting you know.

Anyways I sent Fabian a text in code telling him that the peelers were out looking for him. He came home after dark and jumped over the back fence.

We sat up late into the night discussing what he should do. We haven't seen the summons yet, but Fabian says that he's going down for this for sure. He says that the only thing he can do is to move again. He looked really sad when he said this and I was too. I told him he should stay put for now and that we shouldn't do anything until we see if the cop tries here again. I don't want Fabian Wildman to leave. I'd really miss him. With his crack pipe and everything. Fucking nasty police bastards.

Party Time

So on Sunday we'd a big cool party to celebrate Battle Cat being back. We didn't want to make it a rock and roll heavy metal vomit one because Nanny Boo Boo was coming over and we were worried about how she'd find it. The Sweaty Metallers were on their best behaviour but a few sherry's in Nanny Boo Boo starting asking for the vodka and asked for us to play some loud music. She was a right riot. Listening to all the sweaty metaller's funny stories about rock and roll vomit parties and all the sweaty metal things they get up to. It was then I realised that both of them were competing for the affections of the Banshee who lapped it all up.

Fabian Wildman and Betty Blue were hanging out in the corner talking to Mr Spoon because Betty Blue wants to start making weird wine with beetroot and rhubarb and other weird stuff. Mr Spoon had kindly brought round two bottles (which, no harm to him, made everyone who tried them boke). The special place was reserved for Battle Cat who sat in the corner most of the night woofing away pleasantly and glad to be home.

Mr Spoon left around ten and Nanny Boo Boo a short while later. I told her I'd bring Battle Cat down to visit soon. She said she'd like that and that she'd enjoyed her time at the party and maybe she'd get an invite to the next heavy metal vomit one. I don't see why not.

After that we all played strip twister which got very messy and we were all drunk and didn't understand the rules.

I can't remember how it ended but I woke up bollock naked in the living room on my own with Battle Cat licking my face.

Battle Cat is Home!!!!!

So I got a wee email this morning from some woman out Stranmillis. I was so excited I nearly pished myself. The title said "I Think I Have Your Dog".

She lived out near the Lagan Meadows and said Battle Cat wondered into her garden last Sunday night and she's had him all week. She said all these lovely things about him in her email and it seems he's been on his best behaviour. Good boy!

She said she saw my gumtree ad. so a big thank you to gumtree for providing such a useful service.

Me and Fabian Wildman were going to go round but he's looking a bit weird because he's been smoking a bit too much crack and not sleeping recently. I didn't want to scare the woman so I just went myself.

It struck me just as I reached the house that maybe it wasn't Battle Cat but some other mutt and I had to pause a wee minute and gather my thoughts. Then I rapt on the door.

This wee old lady, who must have been about seventy came to the door and invited me in. She'd these big glasses which looked like she'd tapped two magnifying glasses together.

She took me through the house out into her garden and there he was, my wee puppy dog all wagging his tail and happy to see me. He jumped up on me and she's been feeding him well because he nearly knocked me flying. I was so happy to see him I started talking to him in that half baby speak that I only do when other people aren't around.

She gave me a cup of tea and some really nice lemon buns with white icing that she said she'd made herself. I offered her some money for all the food she's given Battle Cat but she says she didn't want anything. She said she liked having him and that he'd been good company for her.

I told her I was throwing a party tonight at mine for all the people who helped look for Battle Cat and would she like to come as guest of honour? She said that would be great that she hasn't been to a good party in ages.

So that's it settled. I took Battle Cat home with me, blabbing away to him all the way up the road. Fabian Wildman was nearly in tears when he saw him. It was dead sweet.

So now we've got to prepare for the party. I just realised that Nanny Boo Boo (the oul lady's name) might get a bit freaked out hanging with all the sweaty metallers and Fabian Wildman and his crack pipe, he said he'd have a good smoke before anyone came round and that would do him til they went home. I wish he'd stop it all together but for now I'm just glad to have my puppy back!

Flotsametrics and The Glenn Miller Conspiracy

I'm not the only one taking Battle Cat's disappearance hard. Fabian Wildman is missing the wee fellah loads and it's making him go a bit weird. He's taking to sitting up at night and listening to coast to coast am on Betty Blue's laptop. Then next morning, while I'm waiting for my head to solidify, he starts waffling on about all this mad bullshit he's heard the night before while smoking crack.

Yesterday I had to turn around and tell him to fuck up, because I had a raw oul gut on me from all the booze the night before. I had to go and lie down again. He went into his bedroom and starting blasting some shit out about the greys at top volume.

Here's some mad oul shit from coast to coast

A Thug's Heart Breaks

I was wondering about the Lisburn Road last night crying about Battle Cat being missing and having no job and no money when I ran into Good King Thumpo. Good King Thumpo asked me why I was crying and I told him about my missing puppy dog.

He told me it was probably in a chinese by now.

I told him he was a rotten racist bastard and his tattoos made him look like a stupid bastard. Brave words to say to Good King Thumpo but I was drunk and upset.

Good King Thumpo burst into tears and told me that he was trying to get laser surgery to get rid of them and that once he'd lost a puppy and it never came back and his da beat his fuck in for it and that it wasn't right and that he felt sorry for me but he never knows how to be gentle with people so he makes nasty jokes and that he likes me and wants me and him to stay friends.

It was then I realised he was pissed out of his face.

He boked his ring up and wandered off down the road in tears asking about Lucky and where did he go?

I fucked off home. Good King Thumpo never got over the loss of his dog. I hope Battle Cat comes home.

No Job and No Dog

I just found out I didn't get the job, and there's no sign of Battle Cat. I've ran out of places to look, all I can do now is just call the dog warden and repost my gumtree ad.

Fuck this!

Balls Job Interview

So Battle Cat is still missing and no one has seen him. I'm just fucked off and missing him. Fabian Wildman is really subdued too. I was supposed to go for my job interview last friday but I called and postponed it. They let me have it today. It went fucking awful. I went in and they asked if everything was okay now. I said no my dog was still missing and you should have seen the bastards. The oul dick leading the interview, who looked like the Leader of The Draughts Club Convention went:

"Oh, was that why?"

With this fucking look on his face like someone had just told him he could lick his own balls (not the bowl - there's no way he'd ever lick the bowl). So he started with the interview and I was already well pissed off and offended and I just gave the shortest simplest answers except when they asked me why I hadn't worked in a long time and I just said I'd been travelling and made up all this shit about where I'd been and what I'd done, now I know how Amerigo Vespucci felt. But then he'd two continents named after him, so being a lying bastard is the way to go.

I don't give a fuck if I get the job. I really don't. I'm off down the Lagan Meadows again.

WHERE IS MY DOG?

There's still no sign of Battle Cat. I started getting worried that maybe he'd bitten someone, then he'd get put down, even though he's only a puppy still and he'd only do it if he was scared or a bit mad with hunger. Me and Fabian searched all weekend. In a way there was something nice about all the people who helped us look for him but I was so tired after searching for him and it was so hot and me and Fabian Wildman are burnt to shit. I wish I'd a picture of him to make a poster with. Hooka took one and I had a copy but I threw it out when she fucked off.

I was in the Sahara takeaway in Botanic the other night and I asked for a curry chip with onions. Halfway up the road I opened it to find no onions. I started foaming at the mouth (not literally) and shouting about how I was going to go back and bollock the guys for not giving me onions (because to be fair they've done this a few times) but Fabian sensed how stressed I was and got me home okay. I just miss my puppy.