Hot Baby Roy went home yesterday. He took Wild Child with him still unwatched. I think it's his favourite film. He left the others lying scattered on the floor. I came downstairs to find Battle Cat chewing the S Club 7 box. I took it from him and he barked angrily. I'd forgotten he was in the room when Hot Baby Roy stuck it on.
"Don't give me any of your cheek wee lad," I said to him and he wandered off into the kitchen.
I went for a day on the rob because I was pissed off at being skint. There's no fucking jobs anywhere. I applied for an admin one the other day and haven't heard fuck all back. I ran into Good King Thumpo who was bragging about some doll he pulled in Laverys the other night, "a wee rocker chick," he kept saying. He was nearly crying he was that happy.
"I love heavy head girls, pure leathal! Unless their into that voodoo shite, I went out with a doll who was and she was a fucking head wrecker. I love the oul heavy stuff though, see when you come home at night with your head roared, Megadeth! Fucking Megadeth! Tell the neighbours to fuck aff it's time for Megadeth!"
Then he did some air guitar and talked about how Dave Mustane was a big ginger bastard. Then I remembered that the voodoo chick he was talking about was Hooka.
I imagined them slam dancing to Megadeth and felt a tear run down my cheek. How can Good King Thumpo get lucky? He's fucking covered in tattoos. It's a good tactic though it detracts from him going bald.
