The Banshee moved in next door today with Derek Baby so Fabian Wildman's pissed off about not being able to move there. He'd been brushing up on his sweaty metal moves and he was looking forward to comparing spandex with Derek Baby and now it's all gone to shit.
He was fumming about the house so I decided to get out and clear my head. I ran into Rock and Roll Stephen who was in a wile state. He said that his girlfriend had left him for some other dickhead who had skinnier jeans and looked more like Johnny Borrell.
"It's not a mark of a man who has the tightest jeans, she must be immature," I offered by way of consolation.
"Nobody's jeans are tighter than mine," he screamed. "I sit in the bath for hours to get them this tight, I'm going to get pains when I'm old."
He started blubbing and saying that he hated wearing tight jeans, he has all these infected ingrowing hairs on his legs and he can't walk properly anymore.
I offered to take him for a beer to cheer him up but he winced and looked even more panicked.
"I can't be seen with you," he screamed. "You're not cool, I need to be seen with someone who's cool to get her back."
I told him it wasn't going to happen. He was now on a long slow slide into uncoolness. The fact that he was using the word cool showed this. He'd be saying "groovy" next and meaning it, and wearing clothes for their comfort.
He fell on his knees and begged me to tell him this wasn't true but I said what he was doing only further showed this was the case.
"You know I used to hang about with you for cool points," I lied to him. "But not now, not now."
I walked away shaking my head while he lay on the street crying his wee indie heart out.
