That's all folks!

Yesterday was my birthday and it started me thinking about it being time to wind the blog down. I've a lot going on in my life at the mo and the blog isn't so easy to keep up.

I've been at it two years now and it's been great. I've went from being a sad crack head who was secretly the coolest dude in town to everyone knowing just how mutherfucking cool I can rock. I've played electric rock and roll guitar solos, talked to daemons and kissed lots of sexy girls.

I've enjoyed massive support from the rest of the blogging community, particularly the Northern Irish blogging community. I'm not saying this is it for good but for now that's me.

Thanks for reading, I might post on here from time to time so it's not a total goodbye but if you do want some other good blogs to read in the meantime there's plenty listed down the side there.

Post Sex Sex Face (What the fuck that means?)

What a shite week I've had. The Punchbowl Girl is actually away for two weeks so she'll miss my birthday. Fuck that.

I've sat round the house wondering how to avoid conversations with Wino Jo about how he's fallen off the wagon and when he's going to get back on it and get the fuck back to wherever he was before I found him in a bin.

I've just been staying late at work and hating it too. They've lost a few contracts and it's us dicks on the floor that are getting the blame for it. We've been told no reading at the desks, no eating sweets from the machine, no fuck all.

One of the bosses walks up and down the floor glaring at people like he's cock of the walk even though his cock probably doesn't work any more. I'd love to have him a street fight; I'd destroy him, it's be so great watching him trying to throw the digs and getting wasted everytime he'd thought he'd connected.

Speaking of kickings I can't wait to get my hand on that cunt Mother of Bowling Ball.

That Kicking Didn't Go According To Plan Then

It was such a simple plan; I had his address and I was on my way round to Mother of Bowling Ball's to give him the kicking of his life.

Instead I spend last night sitting in casualty.

I left work early complaining of having a dicky tummy, which was a complete lie. I was fighting fit. I went home to do some press-ups (not too many because they tire you out, just enough so I'd be all big and fearsome looking). I took no weapons with me; this was going to be a clean street brawl. I thought about texting Hot Baby Roy so he could come and watch, maybe even lay a few digs in while Mother of Bowling Ball was flat on his back crying. But no, Hot Firey Love Lady would try to stop me, this was going to run as smooth as Barry White sliding out of a fridge.

On the way over I did a Rocky Run and thought maybe some street kids would run along with me because they knew I was the champ. I stopped just round the corner from the house to get my game plan together. I was going to have to knock the door, storm in when it was opened and slam it behind me. If it wasn't Mother of Bowling Ball that answered the door I was going to have to tear the place apart to find him.

There was a sound coming from inside a bin like a dog had a toothy accident when licking it's balls. It was distracting me and I needed focus. I opened the lid to see Wino Jo in there with a big yellow face half hiccoughing, half screaming.

"Wino Jo? What the fuck are you at?"

He couldn't remember. He banged about inside the bin until it fell over, then he crawled out and boked all over the alleyway.

He's off the wagon then. Worse than that he'd been drinking Turgenev (vodka and Berroca) all day. Bad fucking move. Because Berroca is full of vitamins you're only really supposed to have one glass of the stuff. It gives you a nice kick if you're trying to keep a bender going but no way should you get drunk on it.

The Turgenev left in the bottle was the colour of a happy horses pish (yellow - not clear). I took him to the city hospital where we had to wait for hours to get seen. I kept getting water into Wino Jo and making him go to the toilet to boke. By the time we were seen he was a complete mess but he was past the worst of it. The doctor just sent us home and asked me to keep an eye on him.

Yes he's back at mine, he's off the wagon. I don't know how long either is going to be fore but I hope both are not long.

It was such a simple plan; I had his address and I was on my way round to Mother of Bowling Ball's to give him the kicking of his life.

Instead I spend last night sitting in casualty.

I left work early complaining of having a dicky tummy, which was a complete lie. I was fighting fit. I went home to do some press-ups (not too many because they tire you out, just enough so I'd be all big and fearsome looking). I took no weapons with me; this was going to be a clean street brawl. I thought about texting Hot Baby Roy so he could come and watch, maybe even lay a few digs in while Mother of Bowling Ball was flat on his back crying. But no, Hot Firey Love Lady would try to stop me, this was going to run as smooth as Barry White sliding out of a fridge.

On the way over I did a Rocky Run and thought maybe some street kids would run along with me because they knew I was the champ. I stopped just round the corner from the house to get my game plan together. I was going to have to knock the door, storm in when it was opened and slam it behind me. If it wasn't Mother of Bowling Ball that answered the door I was going to have to tear the place apart to find him.

There was a sound coming from inside a bin like a dog had a toothy accident when licking it's balls. It was distracting me and I needed focus. I opened the lid to see Wino Jo in there with a big yellow face half hiccoughing, half screaming.

"Wino Jo? What the fuck are you at?"

He couldn't remember. He banged about inside the bin until it fell over, then he crawled out and boked all over the alleyway.

He's off the wagon then. Worse than that he'd been drinking Lord Byron

Mother of Bowling Ball is in for The Wildest Kicking After I Finish Work

Today in work I realised I'm the only one left from when I started. The Punchbowl Girl was fired, Betty Blue is back at Uni, even Kissy Boy has fucked off.

I just sit at my desk and try to pass the time being ruder to rude customers.

Funnily enough today I was on the phone to a particularly rude bastard who I call Mother of Bowling Ball. He didn't recognise my voice and started screaming about how our customer service was crap and how he'd come down to the call centre and bust our skulls. I politely calmed him down and talked him through everything I was going to fix on his account (none of which I did - he's so fucking screwed when his next bill comes in).

At the end of the call he slammed the phone down after making a passing dig about how he'd better not have to call us back. I took out a piece of paper and scribbled down his address. I'll be making a wee visit to him after work just to see if he wants to talk tough then.

Get ready for some kung-fu.

On My Own Again

So last night the Punchbowl Girl sits me down and says she wants to talk about us.

This sounds bad but instead of bursting into tears and screaming "no this isn't fair," I say. "Sure what's up."

She says that we've been having a lot of fun and she wants to know if I'm just hanging out with her or if I'd like her to be my girlfriend.

I tell her that I thought it was a given we were boyfriend and girlfriend especially after the whole spandex thing and she says no.

Then I say that I'd like her to be my girlfriend very much.

Then we kiss and it's all looking like it's going to be a happy ending until she tells me that she's off tomorrow for a week long holiday with her family.

Then I burst into tears (I don't really but it's funny because it refers to me doing something I thought I was going to do earlier but didn't do). I huffed a wee bit because the truth is I'm going to miss her while she's away.

I'm turning into a sappy boy. Oh dear.

Tramps Beg For Change On The Streets! Leave Me Be!

It's funny that Hot Baby Roy seems so developed these days (even though disaster threatens to rear its head at any minute). He was always the one out of us that I thought was the one you could depend on to be doing worse than you. I think maybe Fabian Wildman thought that about me, but I've a shit job and a great girlfriend so I've gained a lot more than I started with at the beginning of this blog.

Even though he's meant to be getting off crack for good I thought Fabian Wildman was the one person I knew who had really let themselves go. That was until I came across Panther Man the other day. He was sitting down the back of Queen Street drinking scrounged up cider with Foosted Wotsit Head. I remember he used to wear black velvet and slink around the place giving out faux/obvious wisdom to all the banal fuckers who'd lap it up. It wasn't a bad racket, certainly better than scrounging up change.

They asked me if I'd some money for Buckfast because then they could make Solzenicyn.

I told them there was no cider in Solzenicyn and they gleefully waved a bottle of brown lemonade at me.

There was a time I'd have sat and joined them, another I'd have mugged them for their coppers and silvers, this time I shrugged and walked away down the street.

Am I turning mean? I guess Bowie knows.

Hot Baby Roy is Gainfully Employed

Hot Baby Roy has now a job for the first time since I've known him (nearly two years). I worked. Hot Firey Love Lady gave him a reference bundled with fucking lies and they sucked it all in. Now Hot Baby Roy works in management. I can now tell you something I didn't want to previously tell you about him because it makes him sound like a scumbag. It doesn't anymore though, because he now has a respectable job.

Hot Baby Roy's first employment was as a postman. Hot Baby Roy was not the proverbial Pat, waving hello to the neighbours and doing them a good deed to help the community. No, Hot Baby Roy used to rifle through the bag for anything that looked like money (dole cheques, birthday cards etc) then he'd dump everything else into a bin and fuck off to the off-licence. He'd be sitting plastered on the bus home by eleven o'clock, staring bug eyed all round him hoping no one touted on him to the Post Office. He said that once he boked all over the old people seats at the front and that maybe someone thought that was too far because he was sacked soon after. It wasn't an old person though because any of them who sat on it probably thought it was thick pish coming from their out of control bladders.

Or so he says. I'm on the side of any old person who sat on it. I once pished myself on a bus so I know the shame some poor old fucker felt, and it not even their mess.

    The Opposite of Hot Baby Roy (except for them being both ginger)

I Only Want To Party With My Baby

It was Betty Blue's leaving do last night. Me and The Punchbowl Girl showed up nice and early because we weren't going to stay long. The Unicorn Girl and Clarence were there and for once Clarence wasn't being the biggest pishflap there. He actually made himself scarce after he saw me because he knows I'm going to boot him a new arsehole for what he did to Hot Baby Roy.

The Unicorn Girl was making catty shitty remarks to and about The Punchbowl Girl, nothing overt, really dickish shit about her getting fired, said in that kind of I'm nice and friendly but saying shit.

Betty Blue and Kissy Boy took off upstairs to fuck early on in the night so me and The Punchbowl Girl fucked off with our beer and a few bottles of wine that belonged to someone we don't know or care about.

We fucked off home where it we had a better party on our own.

Since the last post it hasn't all been a blur of hot spandex (though that has featured). In other news:

Pearl Jam 10 is the best grunge album (I've learned this after an intensive week of grunge).

There should be a second series of This Is England 86 (there fucking better be).

Will the road works outside Primark ever be complete?

A man can find some great clothes in a charity shop but he needs a woman with him.

Ed Balls has a defective nose.

This website makes me laugh lots and lots.

Things You Find On The Job Centre Website

And she did accept my kinky ways. So I texted her the other night after I came home from Nanny Boo Boo's and the next day I sat at work waiting for her to text me back. Work is shit at the moment. Betty Blue is leaving at the end of the week to go back to universtiy. Kissy Boy is saying that they're going to go out long distance but I can't see it happening. I'd say Kissy Boy will fuck half of Belfast the week she leaves.

They're laying people off. The contract is having problems, they don't think it'll be renewed. The bosses are so strict. I'm behind on my stats but to be honest if there was somewhere else to leave I'd go. I keep checking the online job centre and there's fuck all but kissogram and part time scrotum lickers.

I went home via the off-licence and bought a bottle of pink champaigne. I was going to go for a long walk up out into the countryside and get pure fucked. Instead I went home and put some figure hugging spandex on. Then I heard the door. I slipped on a scabby old tracksuit over the top and went to answer it.

It was The Punchbowl Girl. She had a backpack on her shoulder. I thought it was probably full of stuff I'd given her that she was going to give back but then I remembered that what I'd given her would fill her balled fist.

"Why did you leave the party?" she asked.

"I was embarrassed at what had been said about me."

"So is it true?"

"Yes, it is," I nodded.

"Well in that case, I've stuff in this bag you'll like."

I invited her in and it turns out she had a big bag of spandex all for me, pink stuff, green stuff, blue stuff, all out of the fetish pages of your da's magazine collection in the roofspace. I'm not going to tell you what happened the rest of the evening other than to make smug sounds that teenagers do in school when they're talking about who did what to whom at the previous night's school disco (or thereabouts).

Hypertension, dog walking and spandex (not at the same time)

I went down to see Nanny Boo Boo tonight because Hot Baby Roy was out with Hot Firey Love Lady (shit I forgot to say that they got back together after he explained that he felt humiliated with the first beating and that he was only learning Karate to defend himself but he's been used to reading about the violence so much that both Mother of Bowling Ball and Clarence being there made him go red and he was going to open a can of whoop-ass but left the can opener at home. It worked - yay for him).

Nanny Boo Boo told me that it was going to come out sooner or later. I said I wanted it to come out later but that wee bastard let things out of the bag. Nanny Boo Boo said that I just had to let her make her own mind up about it. The wee fellah may be a dick but he might have done me a favour if it gets me some spandex love.

She said that she had been to the doctors after taking a funny turn when her and Fabian Wildman were in the garden (she said it wasn't as dramatic as she makes it sound but Fabian insisted she was going to the doctor about it). She's been told that she needs to cut back on the alcohol and cakes (even though Nanny Boo Boo is not in any way fat) and take some regular exercise.

I asked her if she'd like to take Battle Cat for a walk with me sometime. She said that she'd like that because she doesn't get to have as much time with him as she used to. She said she could even take him for walks herself because she knows that I don't have as much time as I used to now I'm at work, and I'll have even less when that girl accepts my kinky ways.

Tonight Was a Disaster/ Dreams of Spandex are So Very Far Away

So me and The Punchbowl Girl went to this party on Monday night. I was all set to be there acting all cool and saying "this is my girlfriend"/ "have you met my girlfriend"/ "my girlfriend likes that film but I haven't seen it yet" (you get the idea).

On walking in I was surprised to find that I didn't know anyone. It was full of new students at Queens who were out partying for their freshers week. This was great because I could be that guy with a girlfriend (I've had girlfriends before, loads but if you've been following this blog long you'll know I've had a dry run).

Anyway I'm having a good time and The Punchbowl Girl is having a great time and she's telling me this really funny story about getting fired and how she had phoned the work sickline the week before and left a message giving a real sob sob excuse but didn't press the hang up button on her mobile and was dancing around her room singing a song about how she wasn't going to work with a hangover and it was a shit job anyway before she realised it was still recording. Then she left another message saying it was a joke and she'd be in for her shift.

She'd just finished when My Protege walked into the room.

"Tuesday Kid, I haven't seen you in ages, what's the craic?" he said.
I didn't get a chance to answer him before his mate went:

"That's that gay fucker who wears women's swimsuits. He's so gay!"

My Protege elbowed him in the ribs and said, "he's not gay he's a transvestite. What he does in private is his own business."

Then his mate started some rant all about how his da used to wear his mum's clothes and she split up with him because he was a weirdo and he's in jail now.

"You're da's in jail for kicking two blokes fuck in," My Protege said. "That's as macho as you get."

Everyone was staring at me by this stage and probably trying to picture me in the Baywatch outfit. Including The Punchbowl Girl who asked if I did.

I said no and that the only swimsuit I wore was a pair of Speedos. My Protege tried to fix things more by  telling stories about how I'd been a great influence on him and taught him how to be a man. Everyone listening knew fine rightly that the spandex stories were true.

I went to the toilet and thought about how I'm going to find that wee prick down Stranmillis and turn his ass into toast. I went back into the party and told The Punchbowl Girl that I'd a headache and I was going to go home because I've barely drank anything and I'd boked my ring up in the bogs. She knew I was making an excuse but she said she'd text me. She has but I haven't replied yet.

Fuck this.

Tonight Will Be Fine

Hot Baby Roy is out now to see Hot Firey Love Lady. She wants to talk about the weekend and what happened. I hope it works out. Hot Baby Roy feels terrible about it but I'm not sure if it's because she's upset with him or because he had his ass kicked for a second time in front of her.

The Punchbowl Girl has asked me out to a party tonight so I can meet some of her mates. I hope it goes okay. I hope there's not some typical Belfast blast from the past waiting to knee me in the proverbial balls.* I hope that in the words of Leonard Cohen (a favourite of The Punchbowl Girl's) "Tonight will be fine, will be fine, will be fine, will be fine."

*In Belfast everyone knows everyone else so when you meet someone new they always know people you know (and don't want to see anymore) or worse people you've fucked over (or fucked up).

When I went to kick everyone's ass I didn't leave the house

So I tried to get Hot Baby Roy to clean himself up a bit before he took me round to where Mother of Bowling Ball lived. He was saying no no, and that he didn't want to make things any worse. I asked him how it could be any worse. He's been beat up and dumped.

He said that both Clarence and Mother of Bowling Ball were at Hot Firey Love Lady's house waiting for me to show up. So they could break my bones.

I asked him what the fuck had happened.

He said that him and Hot Firey Love Lady were just chilling out when Mother of Bowling Ball and Clarence Pishflap came in. Clarence Pishflap was making dicky remarks about him and how he was a pervert with a suspect film collection. He told Clarence to fuck off or he'd be sorry. Then Mother of Bowling Ball laughed and told him that he should sit and take his slagging because he was in no position to act the hard man. He knew because he'd had a fight with him and sometimes still laughs about how easy it was to win.

Hot Baby Roy jumped up and told him that he wasn't going to be laughing about this. Then he tried some of his Karate from a book that he'd been learning. And when he shouted key-eye! Mother of Bowling Ball blocked his punch and nutted him in the face. Then him and Clarence started laying in the digs. Hot Firey Love Lady split the whole thing up and told Mother of Bowling Ball she'd get him kicked out this time but Mother of Bowling Ball said that he was just defending himself.

Hot Firey Love Lady asked Hot Baby Roy to leave because she didn't think he was into violence but she's not sure she can look at him in the same way again after what he did, or tried to do.

I told him that me and him were going to break some legs. I could take both Mother of Bowling Ball and Clarence Pishflap out with brow slaps but he started crying even more and telling me that I'd ruin his chances of getting back with Hot Firey Love Lady if I did. I told him that it didn't even sound like he was definately dumped.

This really puzzled hopeful look came across his face and I told him that I wouldn't go round there now as long as he gave me the address and was okay about me breaking Mother of Bowling Ball's legs at a later date.

He said he'd like that.

I also asked if I could teach him how to fight because Karate from a book works only in the book.

He said he'd like that too.

Then I bought us some beers and we talked long into the night about the kicking I was going to teach him to give Clarence Pishflap but Mother of Bowling Ball was going to be mine.

I'm going to give someone a good kicking

Hot Baby Roy just walked in the door with blood pissing out of his face. He says Mother of Bowling Ball did it to him and Hot Firey Love Lady has dumped him. I don't know what the fuck has happened but I'm going to knock that grunge bastard's head off.

How To Hide From The Police

I went back round to Good King Thumpo's last night and no one answered. I broke in again and the place looked like it hadn't been touched (hard to tell with the mess though). Ma-Mutt was chained up outside looking hungry. I gave him some hard loaf off the sideboard and he yummed it up in a few mouthfuls. He still had a big hungry look on his face so I gave him a packet of Hob Nob's that were in a Spar bag along with 2 litres of milk that goes out of date tomorrow.

I went inside and back upstairs to have a better look if anything was different. There was a knock at the door. I snuck a look out the window to see it was the peelers. He was by himself. He knocked for ages. I crept to the other side of the house and looked out to make sure there weren't cops round there.

Did someone see me break in? Had someone else called the cops on Good King Thumpo and his nasty snuff loving ways? Or was the cop there on account of some other misdemeanor?

I moved slowly and quietly back into Good King Thumpo's bedroom and waited and watched the cop walk off. I waited for a while to see if he'd come back. Then I bolted out of the back door and ran the fuck home.

Where is Good King Thumpo?

Does Real Snuff Exist?

After the reactions to yesterday's post. I started to think that I did have a responsibility to do something. I was thinking about it all day yesterday and couldn't really sleep last night. The Punchbowl Girl asked me what was wrong so I told her. She said that she thought he was talking shit but she'd been thinking about it too.

That made my mind up for me. I woke up early today and went round to talk to him. Good King Thumpo lives in a shitty wee terrace on a street off Sandy Row. I've only every been there once years ago. I couldn't rightly remember which house was his until I saw Ma-Mutt chained up in his garden. I jumped the fence and knocked on his door. Ma-Mutt growled at me but I Crocodile Dundeed him into silence.

There was no answer from the house so I bust in (still have the knack). The place was a mess. Good King Thumpo lives on his own and the only thing in the kitchen that let you know it was a kitchen was the cooker, he didn't even have a fridge (which explained all the nasty moudly food on the work tops). What he did have was a load of half dismantled microwaves, TVs and a Motorbike. A walk round the other rooms showed the same thing. His bedroom was full of weightlifting equipment (surprisingly no signs of steroid needles) and Geoff Thompson books about how to violent maim people who are attacking you and which is the best room in the house to hide weapons (incase someone breaks in). Scary shit. But he wasn't anywhere in the house. I waited until I had no choice but to head off to work.

I'm not calling the cops, I'm not a tout. Not unless there's some evidence he's telling the truth.

When Your Girlfriend Meets Your "Friends" for The First Time

The Punchbowl Girl met Hot Baby Roy last night, and he couldn't have been better. No embarrassing stories, no mentions of suspect teenage films that he wanted us to watch. No, instead he talked about how him and Hot Firey Love Lady had went to Burbon a few nights ago and how he recommends we go there. Then when The Punchbowl Girl asked him where he worked instead of talking about how he hasn't worked in years he said that he's between things but has a job interview for managing a store later in the week and that he's very hopeful.

He told me on the sly that he's made up his entire work history and that Hot Firey Love Lady is down as a reference and she'll lie for him no sweat.

Then he went to meet Hot Firey Love Lady.

Not every meeting with people I know has went so smoothly. We bumped into Good King Thumpo earlier and he was foaming at the mouth about how he couldn't wait to go tomorrow to make his snuff movie. He'd found some guys out in the countryside through Gumtree and that they were all set to make immigrant snuff with him.

He ran off home saying he was going to have a practice on the punchbag and sharpen his saw up.

I hope something goes wrong.

Not Planning On Quitting, Still...

I can tell my updates are going to get more and more sporadic. Not just because I'm now in a relationship but also because there's isn't so much funny/strange/violent stuff happening now, or at least stuff I want to be more than an in-joke between me and The Punchbowl Girl.

The spandex is for now hidden in the roofspace, my enemies are out of reach for the time being or licking their wounds, and even Hot Baby Roy has been calmed by his other, better half.

Don't despair I've no intentions to stop, it just might happen gradually after this.

The Suicide Diaries - No 4

Here's another squiggle of shit from that silly book:

World Peace Anthem

When we get world peace it's hear to stay,
I'll fight anyone who tries to get in it's[sic] way.
Bush was a mutherfucker
but Obama is black
he know what it feels like to be under attack
take it back
take the war back
the war in Iraq
stick it in your fucking arses
I'll never join the army
I'd sooner draw the dole.
World Peace makes me wanna lose control
we fight so hard but the blood never stops
Get in the ring corporate fucking America.
We're gonna fight for world peace.
It's gonna rock

How Do You Meet Justin Bieber

I told Hot Baby Roy yesterday about my meeting with Clarence Pishflap. He said that Hot Firey Love Lady's met Clarence already and thinks he's a pishflap. He'd been round her house because he knows Mother of Bowling Ball.

I suppose it makes sense because I keep forgetting how everyone in Belfast knows everyone else. The only reason I met Mother of Bowling Ball is because he was at a party with Betty Blue's mates. And Clarence hangs around with The Unicorn Girl, and Betty Blue said he used to go out with Sandcastles.

Hot Baby Roy laughed his hole off when I said this. He said their relationship was little more than a horny girl fed up with frozen cucumbers. He had shagged her a few times and told her he wanted a relationship. Sandcastles couldn't be arsed with his whining so she said yes but then one time Clarence took him round to her house it was awkward as fuck. They barely spoke for over an hour. Then Clarence went to the toilet and she started asking him if he liked her legs. He said that he didn't want to insult her so he said yes. Then she told him that he could rub them if he wanted, and to hang around after Clarence left. Hot Baby Roy thought he was going to get his hole but Clarence had been on the other side of the door listening to the whole thing. He burst in all Hercule Poirot. Aha!

And that's why they're not friends anymore.

I asked him how he met Clarence. He said he'd thrown a party at his a few years ago when he lived with his parents. He invited a load of people he didn't really know because the object of the party was for him to make new buddies. He was having a wild time when the party started swinging but because of all the booze he'd drank he needed to have a big pish. So when he went to drain cyclops in the bog he heard funny noises coming from his parent's room.

He went in and found Clarence rummaging through his mum's underwear drawer. He turned around all startled.

"I'm not wanking," Clarence shouted.

Then they became friends.

People You Meet When It's Raining

The Punchbowl Girl was working yesterday so I was all on my lonesome. I went for a walk but it was pissing down so I stopped in at The Empire for a beer. I was just sitting supping away and flicking through The Suicide Diaries for something to laugh at/read to my girlfriend.

When Clarence Pishflap wandered over with his Taboo and lemonade.

"So Tuesday Kid, I hear you've finally got your hole."
"How dare you speak about my lady like that?" I asked.
"How dare I? How dare I? Listen I'm going to fuck things up for you with her. Just like you fucked things up for me with The Unicorn Girl, you and that ginger halfwit dicking around talking shit and acting up so I could never make my move and now we're in the fucking "friends zone"."
"Hot Baby Roy has a girlfriend too now."
"Don't think I don't know it. I'll fuck it up for the pair of you. I'll tell those dolls all about your crack addiction, and your cross dressing and your rotten pish drinking ways."
"I never drank any pish, and as for The Unicorn Girl, that was your move to make. If you wanted to fanny around like a sappy bastard and fucked it up for yourself that's your own fault. She's a nice girl, you should take being friends."
"You rotten bastard..."

I didn't let him finish. I threw the arse end of my beer at his crotch soaking it. Now he had to leave or face everyone thinking he'd pished himself in the midst of all his excited ranting.

I bought another drink and finished it in peace.

My New Favourite Song

Last night I had The Punchbowl Girl back at mine. One great thing is that she loves Battle Cat and he thinks she's great. She met him last week briefly when she stayed over but yesterday was the first time they hung out properly.

He doesn't do tricks but he did give her his paw and didn't hump her leg. He sits when we're having a chat with a big doggy grin on his face.

Hot Baby Roy was at Hot Firey Love Lady's so we had the house to ourselves.

Anyways I took her up into my room and she was going through my CDs. She gave a giggle but quickly apologised when she saw all the So Solid Crew and Akon and old crap that I don't really listen to any more. She said that she thought I was into Tom Waits and stuff like that. I told her I was into that but really I just downloaded it onto my laptop because I didn't buy CDs any more (go on the pirates). I thought about showing her the mix CD I found earlier in the year and saying it was mine but then I came up with a better idea and showed her some of the cool stuff I like now on youtube then she showed me a cool song she liked and before you knew it we were having a youtube party. The Punchbowl Girl put this song on near the end and I have to say I've found my new favourite song:

drinking your own urine to survive

I went down to Nanny Boo Boo's last night and brought Battle Cat and bottles of wine. We got very trashed and I told her all about my romance with The Punchbowl Girl and she said that she sounds a bit loopy but she likes that I'm happy with her and I'll have to bring her for a visit.

She said she could throw a party and I could invite Fabian Wildman's ex-girlfriend too but tell her to leave her new boyfriend at home. I didn't want to tell her that I barely speak

I asked her why I hadn't seen Fabian Wildman since I saved his ass. She said he was embarrassed about the whole thing and even worse he had to go to casualty because he was feeling sick and had was looking all yellow. The did a blood test and said that he had too many toxins in him that you get from your pee. He made up some excuse about drinking a bottle of wine someone had left out on the street and that he thought it had tasted of piss. I'd have just told them the truth or half of it.

The whole thing made him catch himself on something serious and now he's out staying in a shack in the countryside to get clean. Hopefully he'll manage it this time.

How to Learn Karate by Yourself

The Punchbowl Girl has already found herself some temp work waitressing. It's shit money, shit hours and not enough of them but she doesn't plan on doing it long.

I was in work giving the bosses the death stares. They didn't care. It seems a few people were laid off. I'm surprised I wasn't one of them. It wasn't the same on break today. I ate a packet of Rolo's and drank rank tea with powdered milk. Not the same at all.

The Punchbowl Girl is working tonight so I'm off down Nanny Boo Boo's with a bottle of vodka because I haven't seen her in long enough.

Hot Baby Roy was in his bedroom shouting KEY-EYE! all morning. I wondered what the fuck was up so I went for a nosy. He's learning karate from a book and there's lots of suspect pictures of some dude and his mate waving their arms around in Mataland tracksuits.

I asked him what did key-eye mean and he said it was something to scream at his enemies to scare the willies out of them.

I told him the only thing the book was good for was learning sexy ways of feeling up Hot Firey Love Lady. He looked a bit downhearted when I said this and turned his back to me.

He knows if he gives me the address I'll go round and kick Mother of Bowling Ball through a wall.

How to Find a Job Quickly

The Punchbowl Girl was round mine last night and no I'm not going into details, other than to say that I had to find a place to hide my spandex collection because I think it's a bit early days for her to find that out. I think spandex isn't so grunge, more 80s hair metal.

                               Spandex - It's about how it feels.

This morning she had a phonecall from the agency saying that she wasn't to go into work today. I had the day off too so I took her into Belfast to cheer her up.

She says she's lucky because she's going to have enough for this month's rent so she'll have a few weeks to find a new job. She says there's an agency she can get some temp bar work with.

I like her attitude, she sounds like one of those people who can graft when they need to. Something I can't/don't do but I admire it in others.

My Hot Date in Belfast

So me and The Punchbowl Girl went to China China last week for our hot date, and I haven't posted since. So here's what happened.

I show up at four like we'd arranged. You see China China has this all you can eat buffet deal. I you leave before five you are charged £5.99. If you leave before seven you're charged £7.99 and I think there's a third price but I don't know what it is.

Anyway I'm sitting there at four thinking we've an hour to stuff our faces and go somewhere else. Come half four there's no sign of The Punchbowl Girl. I'd been worrying since I arrived that she might not get there in time for us to get a good scran up.

I was starting to think she wasn't coming at all and maybe I should just get a big feed and ball my eyes out. I thought about texting her but I didn't want to blow my cool. What if she was coming. I felt like crying. I couldn't believe it. She'd come in and catch me balling into ice-cream and banana balls. Then at a quarter to five (way too late for us to get the £5.99 scran up) The Punchbowl Girl walks in looking all pretty punk rock. And when she sits down and says:

"Sorry I'm late, I suppose we could maybe get the £5.99 if we're quick."

I say:

"Take your time Punchbowl Girl I'm not cheap."

We started off on prawn toast and spare ribs and had a nice giggle watching all the other diners run for the till at five to five.

We had a nice romantic dinner for two for £7.99 a head. It was worth every penny. I'd have paid more.

She said ___________

I'm feeling so cool that I nearly bust my spine trying to do a back flip. Luckily I did it on the sofa or Battle Cat would have to do a Lassie right now. (Hot Baby Roy is away out with Hot Firey Love Lady).

                             I'm glad I didn't need this touchy feely mutt

The Punchbowl Girl said yes! I'm now taking her out on a hot date tomorrow to (unnamed venue)! Yeo! I took Battle Cat for a big long walk and told him all about it. He woofed away, I think he's happy for me.

It's a Tuesday Kid kinda day!

Trying To Get a Hot Date

So I took everyone's advice and put it together as best I could. I waited to give the punchbowl girl a cool message but she didn't come to work, so I sent her a text saying:

I think I messed up asking you out the first time round. I haven't met someone I've liked as much as you in a long while. Do you want to go for a meal with me on Thursday after work?

She didn't text back for hours and I sat at my desk thinking about nothing else. I'm sure I've ballsed up every call I've done today but if she says yes then won't matter.

I put my foot in my mouth again

The Punchbowl Girl was in work today (she wasn't in yesterday). She didn't sit beside me. She sat on the other side of the room. I thought I'd better have it out with her.

At break I asked her if I could have a word and me and her went out into the corridor.

"So is there something up?" I asked her.

She shrugged.

"It's just you've been acting distant since last week. What happened to us having sex and fun?"

"I never said we'd stopped it."

"Oh, so is everything okay with us?"

"What do you mean us? I thought you wanted my number so you could ask me out? But you didn't."

"Do you want to go to cheapo Tuesday's at the cinema this evening?"

"Forget it," she said walking away.

At the time I didn't know what I'd done but now reading it back as I type I realised I was an asshole. Anyone any good date suggestions in Belfast? I don't mind splashing the cash, especially because I think she thinks I think she's a cheap date.

Cowboys Vs Indians

Yesterday was my Fruitarian Brother's birthday party, and like those of you who read this will no I haven't really seen much of them this year (except Wino Jo - who I used to live with.)

He was in good form. He's off the drink now and he seems not to be telling people what to do or how to do it anymore. He asked how Hot Baby Roy was and when I told him that he was seeing Hot Firey Love Lady he laughed his ass off and said that he bet she was an ugly monster and that he knew Hot Baby Roy didn't stand a chance with the Raven Princess Spandex. I told him he didn't stand a chance with Princess Cheetara either, and that the Leotard Girls were annoying as fuck and do nothing but hold big milbag parties that spill out onto the street fighting.

He says that never bothered him because he has a wee rock and roll step that Foosted Wotsit Head showed him. I asked if he'd heard from Foosted Wotsit Head and he shrugged.

My metaller brother was in good form and just talking about work and the new Iron Maiden album. The Hot Shot Banker was missing because he's living in Switzerland now (lucky bastard) and the Fruitarian was there with all his hippy mates.

I bought him a baby apple tree that he can grow and get apples from when he's in a fruitarian mode.

Some of his hippy mates had guitars and they started playing lame hippy stuff that went:

"Bumble bee, don't sting me,
we are friends, make honey."

Repeat until you have forgotten what you were doing before the song started. I hated it but clapped politely. Then ran like fuck.

The Suicide Diaries - No 3.

I was so fucked off with not knowing what's up with The Punchbowl Girl that I asked Hot Baby Roy what was up with her. He's having a run of luck with women so he knows about shit like this. Or is supposed to but his best advice was make her a CD of slushy love songs and tell her that you want to win her heart. That or see if The Suicide Diaries have any good love poems in it and try to pass it off as your own.

Here's the best I could find. I'm not fucking using it though.

Being In Love

Like a rare butterfly or beautiful foreign coins
you make my tackle jingle when you touch my loins.

He wrote a few more lines but scribbled them out. I guess he thought they were worse.

Ho hum.

The Punchbowl Girl is like being totally weird

I've been in work now since nine o'clock. I asked The Punchbowl Girl if she wanted to go to my brother's birthday but she said that she had something on that day, something vague. I asked her if I could have her number because I wanted to send her a text when I was off but couldn't.

She looked a bit awkward and gave it to me. After I keyed it in she said that she had to go back to work and walked off to her desk. She was sitting between two other people so I couldn't even sit with her.

I've been trying to work out what's wrong and here's my options:

1) She reads my blog and doesn't appreciate all our red hot sex life being telegraphed to all the world.

2) She thinks it's a bit soon to be meeting my family. This one if fair enough because we haven't even went on a date yet or agreed we're a couple. We're only colleagues who shag.

3) Typical guy thoughts about girls that I won't put here because I think they're the most unlikely of the three and if 1) is true writing them here will cause no end of shit.

Any thoughts on what it could be? 

I Will Risk Shitting Myself for Love

It's my Fruitarian Brother's birthday this weekend. I'm thinking of having a dead cow dumped on his lawn just to let him know that I'm a meat man.

I've been off work for the past few days because I ate a dodgy kebab the other night and didn't want to risk shiteing myself with rotten diarrhoea in front of everyone especially not The Punchbowl Girl. I'm getting a bit sweet on her and it's not just the sex and it's not the grunge and it's not even that she wants to be the new Betty Blue. I don't know it all seems to come together in the right way.

So yeah, I don't want to shite myself in front of her, not yet anyway but I'm going into work tomorrow, if only to see her, just so I can ask her to The Fruitarian's birthday party. I'm downing a bottle of flat Coke in the morning just to make sure my pants stay clean.

DISCLAIMER: I have not shit myself but it has been close.

Belfast's First Snuff Movie

I've put up a new poll asking which job I should go for. I'm getting to that stage where if I want to be earning good money in a few years I need to be on track for it now otherwise I'm just going to be one of those grumpy bastards that never got what they wanted and makes it their job to see everyone else hates their job. I'd sooner go back on crack than do that. (I'm not planning to go back on crack by the way).

The Punchbowl Girl wasn't in work today and much as we've been banging away I don't even have her mobile number, a thing to rectify soon.

Yesterday after work I was walking up Shaftsbury Square when I bumped into Good King Thumpo. He was asking me where he could get a cheap camera. I asked him why and he said that he was looking to make his own snuff movies because he can't find decent snuff anywhere. He's tried St. George's Market, Nutts Corner, that place in the Smithfield. Fucking nowhere does it. He says he knows he can't be the only one who wants it so he's going to exploit a niche in the market that will save his balls and feed him and Ma Mutt when the tories cut his benefits. Posh bastards.

He says that he was thinking of kidnapping some of those wee indie fruits that hang around in Charlies Coffee Shop but he'd a better idea and now he'll try and get a foreigner because no one will miss them and that it's hard to prove snuff is actually snuff and not just mates dicking around, especially because he'll be laughing in the film so much. He says there was some zombie movie where the director killed people and got away with it in court because he'd killed foreigners. I think he's got the whole story arse about face but I can't remember the name of it. Anyways if I hear of him making it this could be the first and only time I'll shop someone to the cops.

                             Good King Thump Stars in - Snuff (like Speed but shit).

Wandering around the Lagan Meadows catching up on my thoughts

I spend my weekends recharging. It's not unusual to see me take off early on a Saturday morning with Battle Cat and a bottle of pink champaigne. I walk for hours, even in the heat. I'm burnt after the weekend, pure balls.

I thought about calling up The Punchbowl Girl but I just needed to recharge. I think I'm what they call an introvert. A few hours blethering away to Battle Cat makes me feel all gangsta again. I sometimes think he gets what I'm saying. Or at least he knows what some of the words mean in doggy speak.

                                      "Woof," said Battle Cat.

I told him all about the Punchbowl Girl and about Fabian Wildman. Battle Cat let a woof out of him. I think he missed Fabian after he moved out and he was glad to see him the other morning.

Fabian left while I was at work and didn't steal anything (I think he stole a big block of cheese but I'll not quibble about that). He sent me a text asking if I wanted to hang out down Nanny Boo Boo's. I haven't replied, and part of me thinks I should because if he's coming off crack then I feel like I should help him out.

He was saying stuff about Betty Blue but I don't think he's sorted out enough to be trying to get her back, not when she's long ago moved on and is with smooth talking Kissy Boy. She's going back to university soon anyway.

I think I need to move on too.

Work is Making me a Mutherfucker

I've been all stressed out because of work. Sex with The Punchbowl Girl helps out but I'd like to get back to when I have time off wandering about Belfast having fun and doing the odd bit of shoplifting.

I was talking to Hot Firey Love Lady when her and Hot Baby Roy were sitting downstairs indulging in some pre-pseudo-incest romance food (a nice meal on the sofa watching Jo get evicted from Big Brother to the rest of you).

She was saying that she liked her work and she was being all positive about the mutherfuckers on Big Brother (I haven't really been watching it but I like the graffiti dude). I think the difference in our points of view comes from work. I like drawing a wage but the difference between me and her is that she manages a cafe, so she has a bit of authority but more than that when people come into her cafe they're there to get something they want and generally have a nice time relaxing. When people call the call centre they're calling to scream mutherfucker at me (which they often do).

It's getting so that I think people are at heart wankers, she sees people as nice because when they come into her work they're nice.

Amazon war on society, is it nothing more than a feminist myth?

Fabian Wildman was awake when I came downstairs this morning. He said thanks for what I did yesterday. I told him it was nothing and he said he thought he was fucked. I asked him what he was doing there and will Zim Van Bindle send his amazon army after us. He said he didn't know anything about an amazon army. I told him that Zim Van Bindle was trying to get an amazon army together to bring about a sex war that will topple society.

Fabian Wildman said he hadn't heard of this but that it sounded like something that crack addled fool would think up. He said he hadn't seen any girls in the livingroom last night. Much less roid addled amazons.

I puzzled over it all morning on my way to work. I quickly forgot about it when The Punchbowl Girl took me into the Disabled Toilets and wasted £4.83 of the company's money.

I told her what happened and that it was actually an ex of Betty Blue's that I saved. Then this twinkle came into her eye and she said she wanted to know more about him. That was silly of me. I'll not mention him again in front of her.

Rescuing Fabian Wildman from the Amazon Porn Army

Nanny Boo Boo phoned me in a wile state earlier. It was horrible, she was saying she had a phonecall from Fabian Wildman and he was in a wile state, she thought he'd been smoking that horrible crack and he said he was chained to a radiator in the house of some guy called Vandle van Bundle.

"Do you mean Zim Van Bindle?" I asked.

"That's it," she sobbed down the phone.

There's nothing to spur you into action like an old woman crying. I forgot all about not being so keen on Fabian Wildman and his piss drinking ways anymore. I pulled on my coat and told Nanny Boo Boo I'd be back with a safe Fabian in no time.

I hoped on a bus (or two, maybe two) and in no time I was at Zim Van Bindle's house. I knocked on the door and when no one answered I braced myself to kick it down king kong kung-fu style. I was worried and thought that maybe a snarling horny Battle Cat could have won the day for me. I gave the door a final knock out of politeness and some sketchy man with black eyes answered the door. I pushed past him into the living room where Zim Van Bindle was sitting watch a DVD of Barb Wire surrounded by some she-ras.

"Where's Fabian Wildman?" I shouted.

"He's in the bathroom, he's going to test out the amazon warriors for me," Zim Van Bindle said. "I have to know that they can do this."

He pointed at the TV screen where this was happening:



"Fuck that," I said heading for the stairs.

"I went upstairs where Fabian Wildman was quivering below the sink with a load of other soon to be pulp guys. I did a macho thing and kicked the sink off the wall and screamed "Girl Power" the guys all ran off screaming.

Fabian Wildman and me escaped out of the window because we knew that the She-Ra's would destroy all the wimpy men running down the stairs. That plus Fabian Wildman owed Zim Van Bindle lots for weeks of crack he'd let him smoke.

Fabian is now sleeping on my couch. Hopefully he's learnt his lesson. I'm still not sure how I feel about everything but I'm glad that Zim Van Bindle's amazon army didn't fuck him up. Nanny Boo Boo was so pleased when I called her, she said that I should bring Battle Cat down for a big bowl of rotten sausages and me and Fabian Wildman down for wine.

Getting Paid for Having Fun

So the results of the poll are in. 68% of you voted for me to use my wee doggy to meet other sexy dog walkers. This is a good plan as the rest all involved some form of danger (potentially life threatening danger).

I was going to implement it this evening. I was even sitting at work thinking about what route me and Battle Cat could take when The Punchbowl Girl came up to me. She had Betty Blue's book on her and was talking all about how she couldn't wait to get started on it. It was gonna be so cool. She was going to go home and stick on some grunge and hit the books, or book.

I chatted with her a wee bit. I was thinking that I should start getting to know her and thinking about her as a person and not just someone I want to shag. When she said to me:

"Don't go back to work straight after break."

She told me to follow her and she led me into the disabled toilets where we humped like Puffing Billy.

We came back to work a whole twenty minutes late but I wasn't bothered about that. It was great to be getting paid for humping. A whole £1.94 (rounding up) but what happened was worth so much more.

Talking about Grunge with the Punchbowl Girl

So you probably want to know about what happened when me and The Punchbowl Girl went for drinks after work. It started off in Katy Daly's downing a few pints. The Punchbowl Girl wanted to go to the Ormeau Baths to look at some art and be like Betty Blue, she said that she is going to start reading books and that after Betty Blue finishes her book she'll borrow it from her.

I don't mean to make her sound as bad as all that because I'm picking up on the silly stuff she said because she talked for ages about how her big brother was into grunge and now he doesn't live at home she has all his grunge CDs, even though she put them all on her computer and doesn't touch them except to look at pictures of them all with their cool grunge hair and grunge clothes.

                                                   Grungers

I don't have grunge clothes (cardigans and ripped jeans) or cool grunge hair (long and greasy). I never talk about getting haircuts on here because I tend to just go in and ask for something that looks good, that or I used to bic it.

The Punchbowl Girl was talking away about some TV show she watches (an updated Sherlock Holmes - I haven't seen it) and I noticed her accent sounded a bit American.

"So did you used to live in the states?" I asked.

"No, I've lived in South Belfast all my life."

"So you watch a lot of American TV then?"

She stopped talking and her face went red. I didn't mean to put my foot in it but it was going to happen at some point. We went after that drink.

Ginger Incest

Hot Baby Roy and Hot Firey Love Lady were in the house last night. I was looking at them and thinking that they looked like brother and sister. That's how it is with ginger people. Their gingerness is such a key factor in who they are. It was like watching the start of a bad incest porn movie.

                                                  Incest is best

We were being nice and friendly but I felt like I was only there to hold the legs so I took Battle Cat for a walk and let them get down to some weird sex. I tried to get Hot Firey Love Lady's address out of her but she knew why I wanted it.

She said that violence was no way to sort out anything even a prick like Mother of Bowling Ball. Hot Baby Roy kept silent because I know he's said to her that he doesn't want violent revenge but a check of google searches on my laptop show that when he's here by himself he tries to find VIOLENT KUNG FU CLUBS BELFAST and suchlike.

She's not Dead but she is Punk Rock

She's okay. The Punchbowl Girl is in work and I've just had a chat with her all about how I remembered her now from that party last year and how was she doing. She said she was good and that she had been having a bad day that day. She was talking about how cool Betty Blue was and I was glad Betty Blue couldn't hear her because she was really gushing. Then she said that after work today she was going to get drunk because it was the weekend. I told her that tomorrow was Friday and that was the start of the weekend.

"Not if you're taking friday off," she shrugged.

She has a point. I hope she's not one of those people who never had the balls to mooch off school and she's going to fuck her adult life up by trying to make up for how badass she wasn't at school.

I asked her if she still liked grunge bands and she said yes, she was Punk Rock! Indie was shite. Then she started singing some cool grunge song a bit loudly in the canteen in a way that made me think she wanted people to hear it and deem her cool but the looks on their faces said otherwise. Fuck them. I'm punk rock too!

Help Me I'm Turning Into a DIck

I'm doing that thing that guys who haven't had a shag in ages do. And I haven't had a shag in ages. I look at every girl as a potential ride. I'm not so bad that I'm giving them numbers out of ten but still.

I saw Nanny Boo Boo last night (no I'm not thinking of shagging her) and she was telling me that she's been reading my blog and she knows that I fancy Fabian Wildman's ex-girlfriend and that she hasn't said anything about it but she thinks it could cause a problem between us. I told her that there already was a big problem between us and that Fabian Wildman smelt of piss and had no chance of getting her back.

She said that Fabian was drinking his piss to try to calm his jitters when he was giving up crack and that so far it hadn't worked but him and her were hopeful.

                                   A better use for a bottle of piss

I told her that Betty Blue was seeing some other guy in the office and that I was a bit jealous to start but they seem to be a bit loved up and that there was this other girl I might have a blossoming romance with. And she asked if it was the wee girl who was going to top herself and I said that wasn't a given and that maybe with my stud loving she'd give that idea up completely and get in my bed.

Nanny Boo Boo said she liked to hear me talking like that because she thought I should be out shagging lots of girls. She says that My Protege has himself a girlfriend now and I'm so jealous because he's obviously been using the street skillz I taught him and it seems to work for him but it hasn't for me.

The Punchbowl Girl hasn't been back at work for a few days and I'm starting to worry I've missed an opportunity for sex. We'll see.

The Suicide Diaries - No 2

I went to work today hoping to see The Punchbowl Girl (I'm not calling her The Suicide Girl - nfw) but she wasn't there. I hope she's okay. I think she's okay. I can't remember much from that party where I met her because I was pretty wasted but I remember we hung out and talked about Pearl Jam and how cool they were (I don't really know their stuff but I've told bigger lies).

I came home and thought I might find some wise words for her in The Suicide Diaries that or I wanted a laugh. I found the following, an attempt at a political rap I think:

Talking deep stuff with the gang
everyone thinks their own thang
Someone thinks one thing I think the other
it's okay we learn from each other

People play some music
I sing some lines
everyone digs it
I feel so fine

When spides hit the street
cops stop the beat
a spide grabs a rock
throws it at the cop

A riot starts
but we keep our cool
both the spide and the cop
look so uncool.

He's now singing this shit to cows. His dad will kick him off the farm if he catches him.

I'm sick of being on my own. I want to get love. I've a few ideas how I might get it but I'm not sure. I've a poll on the side of the page. Vote and let me know all about how to find love.

The Girl at the Punchbowl

So there I was on the street just keepin it real and listening to some hardcore gangsta on my walkman (psyche: ipod mutherfucker). It wasn't working, the act not the ipod. I was trying not to give a fuck because in some ways it feels like everything was a bit easier when I was smoking crack and not giving a fuck about anything but then I was thinking about looking after Battle Cat and My Protege and I realised who the girl from work talking about her birthday was and much as I like helping people out I don't know if I ready for it again if she needs help with something.

I remember being at the Cliffs of Moher a few years ago and right at the cliff edge is a sign (a calming green one) saying: There are other options. And the number for The Samaritans below it.

I remember thinking was that really going to stop someone who wanted to kill themselves. I hope so. I think that's quite a hard topic to approach. I hope she's changed her mind about killing herself. I remember knowing people when I was a teenager who talked about killing themselves. They're all still here. I'm not saying they were just going through a phase what I'm saying is that things changed for them and they must have thought there were things worth sticking around for, even if other things were still going shit for them.

The song on my ipod turned to Tupac Shakur and I thought, there's a man who didn't want to die and he was gunned down. Then I remember thinking that maybe Tupac wasn't dead.

Who is She?

Today in work I was in the canteen stuffing my face with bags of crisps. I'm putting on weight in this job. It's all the sitting at a desk bored and talking to people on the phone who don't want to talk to me but have to. I think my targets are down, I spend too long on the phone and I'm not speaking to enough people.

While I was sitting there this girl came up to me and asked me if I remembered her from a party we were at last year. I stared for ages and I could tell she wanted me to remember her. I said yes, hoping that I could work out who she was as we went along. She said that she was twenty now, and she'd be turning twenty one later in the year.

She had a miserable look on her face, and I noticed she'd self harm marks on her arms. I think it must be shit to have scars on your arms and shit from self harm. I knew a girl at school who had a huge (and strange) crush on BA Baracus and scored his name into her arms with scissors. Now when she gets a tan she looks like a walking advert for the A-Team. I saw her a few years ago and she told me that it was pure shit because she didn't even fancy BA anymore.

I said to the girl that she should invite me to her birthday because it was about time we were at another cool party together. She started to cry and said she knew I didn't remember.

That's all I need, crap targets, off sick, making people cry. They'll fire my ass for sure. Who was she?

A Family Update

My Fruitarian Brother showed up at my house today. I haven't seen any of my brothers in ages.

He was telling me that Wino Jo is getting out of hand. He's still off the booze but telling everyone that they're wrong about everything from what music they listen to to how they see society. I told him that he was being a dick at the end of living here and not letting Hot Baby Roy watch his teen romances.

Then he said that our Hot Shot Banker Brother was fed up trying to make his millions banking and turned to gambling, everyone thought it was a turn for the worse, except he was really good at it and after a few lucky big wins had fucked off to Switzerland rich as fuck. He posted him back pictures of him skiing and in a jacuzzi with lots of girls and a message on the back saying "which one for my wife?"

He said that he was thinking about going vegan (the phase before he goes full on fruitarian) and that our metaller brother was still listening to screaming hot electric heavy metal rock and roll solos on his hifi.

And that was it for the family update. Nice to catch up once in a while.

I asked him if he wanted some pancakes and he sat for a few but I'm sure he barfaramma'd them up in the bogs before he left. Yuk!

He said that it was his birthday next month and he wanted us to have an ethical party at his house. I don't know what an ethical party is but it sounds like the sort of thing to put Wino Jo back on the booze.

How Do I Get Rid of Leotard Parties Next Door?

Fabian Wildman left half a bottle of real piss in my bathroom. I don't know why he didn't piss in the toilet? He's used it many times in the past. I threw it out in the alleyway but then I became paranoid about a wino finding it and drinking it so I put it in the Leotard Girls' bin. I hope it attracts rats to their house because I'm sick of being woken up in the night by their shit leotard parties that I'm never invited to. They had one last night that ended up with a mad scrap in the streets (two spides digging each other in the mouth). The leotard girls stood out in the street cackling away.

I stuck on the TV and watched retards sleeping on Big Brother. Lucky bastards, they don't have spide fuelled leotard parties going on nearby.

The Old Gang Back Together?

Based on Hot Baby Roy's loved up humane suggestion we had Fabian Wildman round for a few cans the other night. The conversation started boringly and stopped a wee while later. Fabian was trying to be nice about everything, starting with Hot Baby Roy's trendy girl bought new clothes down to how clean the place is now I have money for cleaning products. Hot Baby Roy kept mentioning Hot Firey Love Lady in a way that made it obvious he'd always dreamt of sitting round talking to his buddies about his girl, not in a romantic slushy way. In a casual kind of "we bought scotch eggs the other morning" type stories that have no point other than illustrating he has a girlfriend so beat that.

I tried to ask Fabian a few questions just to see how he was keeping it turns out he's living in a homeless hostel and still smoking crack but trying to give it up. He said he'd been having a smoke with Zim Van Bindle and he'd mentioned I was back smoking it. I said that I'd had a few smokes earlier in the year but that was over with and that crack and Zim Van Bindle could go and fuck themselves.

The room went silent. But we were used to it by now.

Fabian started talking about how he wanted to get Betty Blue back and how he'd seen her out in Belfast some night with some wanker (Kissy Boy by the description) and that he was going to make her his again because they were meant to be, and they were going to be again.

I wasn't too happy about hearing this but Fabian Wildman was shaking and his face was all screwed up and bitter looking. He excused himself and went up to the toilet. I thought he might be crying there but then I clocked he was smoking crack. He came down a wee while later with a big smile on his face and said he had somewhere to be. Then he wandered off out into the scruffy evening cackling like that halfwit Popeye.

Derry - City Of Culture

I went back to work today. Betty Blue wasn't there and neither was Kissy Boy. They were probably at home fucking and getting fucked like rapists in prison.

After work I went into town and bought some spandex. I was walking up Queen St when I came across Rock and Roll Stephen hanging out on the corner with his guitar in his hand.

I asked him what he was doing and he said he was buying some sausage rolls because he was getting ready to walk to Derry. He was saying that Derry was the city of culture and that he was going to walk there with his guitar in hand and get a garret and write some poetry while smoking rollies and walking around drunk and get chicks and feel like a really rock and roll kid. I sniggered a big because I don't think he knows I call him Rock and Roll Stephen.

I told him that The Indie Kid gave me his book of rhymes before he went back to culchie land. And Rock and Roll Stephen's jaw just dropped and he said that The Indie Kid told him he burnt it.

Tears started running down his face and he said after he managed to get control of himself:

"I guess you really were the smoker."

Then he wandered off in the direction of the motorway singing an old out of tune Libertines song.

Lads Night In

I yesterday when I came home I slept for a bit then I heard Hot Baby Roy in walking about the house. I went down to say hello.

"Where's Hot Firey Love Lady?" I asked him.
"She has some work stuff to catch up on," he said. "Can I borrow your laptop? I need to find a job quick."
"Has Hot Firey Love Lady seen through her modern woman delusions?"
"No, she'll pay for anything Hot Baby Roy wants."

I hate that he spoke about himself in the third person.

"But I feel cheap when she pays for everything."

It was then I noticed her was wearing brand new trendy clothes, and not just some ill-fitting charity shop stuff like me.

So far he's been juggling meal deals in places just so he can say he pays sometimes. His favourite is China China near Queens and he tried to get him and her out of there before five (because at five the price of the all you can eat buffet lunch goes up from 5 to 7 pounds).

I'm happy for Hot Baby Roy and I think Hot Firey Love Lady is having a good effect on him, or at least I did until he suggested a lads night in "like old times" and pulled out a DVD of Whip It (the directorial debut of Drew Barrymore, which features jail-bait looking Ellen Page - she's 23 but so what?)

I asked him what did Hot Firey Love Lady think of this. He said it's her DVD. This just isn't fair.

Like that old sweaty heavy metal rock and roller Rod Stewart said: "Some guys have all the luck".

Sent Home From Work

Today before work I needed some dutch courage so I downed a whole bottle of fizzy pink champaigne in the bath. It felt great and I marched off to work telling myself that I didn't give two flying monkey's fucks about what happened with Kissy Boy and Betty Blue. I believed it too, until I walked out on the floor and saw the two of them sitting beside each other (or in adjacent booths). They were having a laugh and giggling. They saw me and waved me over, I waved back but I didn't go. I went and sat at the other side of the room from them.

Three phonecalls in I couldn't take it any longer, I could feel the alcohol climbing up my throat. Wee bits of sick in my mouth, I swallowed them down but they just came back up bigger. I started to cry.

I ran down the corridor to the disabled bogs, which were thankfully empty and boked all over the place. I sat on the toilet seat and fell asleep. I only slept about ten minutes but it was enough to make me feel hungover.

I cleaned the place up as best I could and went back to the floor.

My supervisor asked me if I was alright and I mumbled something about not being well enough to come back to work, she was really sympathetic and said I should go home and get better, they'd pay me for the day.

I can't believe how nice she was, in the last call centre I worked in that would have been it over for me.

I walked home wondering if it was a good idea to open that second bottle of pink champaigne in the fridge.

Maybe not.

Dick Lick For Breakfast

I haven't been to work since Friday, not because of Betty Blue and Kiss Boy, and not because of someone starting a facebook group for this blog (it makes me feel super cool).

No, I've been off work with man flu. I've just felt really under the weather. I might have had a dodgy kebab on the way home on Friday. I'm not sure. I don't want to say where I bought it from in case it wasn't their fault but I'm not eating out of there again.

I came down this morning to find that there was nothing in the house for breakfast. Battle Cat was fine because we always keep scraps for him in a bowl. But all I had was a couple of suspect looking pancakes. They seemed okay so I toasted them but I couldn't find any butter or jam. The only thing there was to flavour it was a bottle of dick lick sitting on the living room coffee table (which means Hot Baby Roy has been having sex in the living room! Dirty bastard! It's my couch!)

I took a slurp to see what it tasted like. I was alright. I'll go shopping later and get proper jam but Dick Lick was nice with the pancakes. I don't think it'd go nice with toast.

Dick Lick, Yummy Yummy!

And I'm not happy and I'm not sad

Yesterday at work Kissy Boy said that he was going out to get pissed and asked who wanted to go too. Me, him, Little My, Betty Blue and another guy Crusher Bones went out. We went to The Kitchen Bar and queued for ages to get a pint. We took the booze outside because Little My and Crusher Bones wanted to smoke fags.

Crusher Bones and Little My were talking about the riots up in Ardoyne and saying they didn't think it was on but that they chucking stones at the police when they were kids and that it was good crack, they just did it for a chase.

Crusher Bones said that one time he threw a policeman through a double glazed window and the cops chased him but he stopped and fought them all and won.

I thought this was pure balls even though he's a big scary guy but Little My was loving it. In the middle of thinking his story was balls I noticed that Betty Blue and Kissy Boy had slipped off.

I didn't think I'd give a shit but it turns out I do. I like her, and I even though Kissy Boy is a cool guy I don't want him with her either.

Like Robbie Williams and Take That

I walked home a different way from work yesterday to avoid Fabian Wildman, when I got in the house he had already been and gone. Hot Baby Roy was there and he was saying that him and Fabian had a nice chat about stuff and that he is okay about the past.

I told him that was maybe because he was in love and that everything is a bit nicer when you're in love. He shrugged and said that he had to go soon and have a hot date with Hot Firey Love Lady.

I asked him about how he could afford all this dating and stuff and he said that Hot Firey Love Lady doesn't mind paying for everything. He must have a big wang or she must have little self esteem for that to be working.

He said that he thinks we should hang out a bit with Fabian Wildman because it could be good to get the gang back together.

"Fuck sake, it's not like it's Robbie and Take That." I told him, and he got all excited about how Robbie and the boys were gonna make some great music and that him and Hot Firey Love Lady were going to have a great time at the gig.

He talked for ages about it, the only other thing he said about Fabian before he left was that he left a bottle of stuff he'd been drinking here and it smelt of piss. If he's pissing in bottles and leaving them out on the streets for winos he's a wanker.

The Suicide Diaries No 1 - Red Milk Green Milk

Last night I was sitting in the house reading The Suicide Diaries and giggling away but also feeling a bit sorry for The Indie Kid because I don't think he meant half of what he wrote here. Most of it just seems like stuff to impress his hipster friends:

Daddy you don't know what revolution means
so what if I wanna wear tight jeans?
It's all just about being free
living on a farm just isn't for me

semi-skimmed semi-skimmed semi-skimmed
we don't need to live off the fat of the land!
Daddy you just don't understand

That one was titled Red Milk Green Milk. It's a reference to skimmed and semi-skimmed milk which have red and green labels respectively. The red might be a reference to The Indie Kid's socialism but there's nothing about environmentalism, maybe it was intended for the second verse.

Ho-hum

Scruffy Old Friends

I was walking home from work yesterday when Fabian Wildman came up to me. He was saying that he was just on his way to call round to mine. I could tell by the half eaten cake in his hand that he'd been waiting and watching for me.

I felt rude telling him to fuck off so I let him in especially because he was frothing away at the mouth about Battle Cat and how he was so excited about seeing him again. I invited him in for a cup of tea and he said he had just the thing for it and waved his cake about. He dropped it on the ground but he picked it up and brushed the dirt off it.

"Good thing it's not raining, we couldn't have ate it then," he said.

I told him not to be dropping crumbs on my floor because I'm a bit more house proud than I used to be.

When I saw him all smiling and happy at seeing Battle Cat and saw how scruffy he looked I did feel a bit bad about feeling shitty towards him.

Then he said that he heard Betty Blue was back in Belfast and he was going to win her back. I didn't tell him that we worked together, I didn't eat any of his cake. Am I a bastard?

Positive Thinking For Work

Back in work and I'm fully charged to kick corporate ass, I'm gonna make the deals, bust the ass that needs busted for me to get that promotion I'm gonna drag the company to its knees. It's gonna knee for me.

Or some such balls, All my previous enthusiasm is gone. I spoke to Betty Blue at break and I asked her if she was calling me a stalker. She said no that she was talking about Clarence Pishflap who had went out with Sandcastles and was now stalking The Unicorn Girl. I told her that I hated Clarence Pishflap and that him and that dick Mother of Bowling Ball were going to get kickings if they tried to hit Hot Baby Roy, Betty Blue said that she remembered Hot Baby Roy and she always thought he was a bit creepy too. I told her that Hot Baby Roy had a girlfriend and they were going great and that he nice now and he was very nice to Battle Cat.


"Aw, you're wee dog," she shouted. "How's he doing these days? He was so cute."
"He great, still cute, but bigger now, still not biting people."

She laughed at that, I wanted to say something about Fabian Wildman and how he was a dick for what he did to her, but I couldn't it was too awkward over egg sandwiches.

Dirty Old Men in The Countryside

Not long back in Belfast. The country is a weird place. Full of weird people and strange animals that make strange noises in the night. I found a cool canal path that was something like the Lagan Towpath and wandered out into the countryside with a bag full of beer, I drank them all day and didn't see anything but cows and sheep until I came to a stone wall that I wanted to jump over.

There was a wee old man standing beside it with a grin that looked like he was doing chin stretching exercises. He asked me if I was having a nice day and I said yes and asked him how his day was. He stood and toul me all about how this was his brothers farm but he thinks that his brother stoul it after his father died and he must have tampered with the will because he'd worked these fields while his brother was out hooring and gambling and sure everyone in the country knows he's nothin but a dishonest hoors bastard, no disrespect to his ma, it's just an expression. And that he has to pay to keep his sheep on it but he should let him do it for free because sure the land would go to fuck if he did nathin with it.

I offered him some beer to cheer him up but he said no he said he had something better than beer and pulled out a bottle of poitin and I had a few swallys of it and woke up in the field in the dark wearing no clothes, glad I still had my kidneys, but fearful my hole had been tampered with.

In and Around Nordirland.

I'm hiding out in the countryside (in the North still) and the only way you'll find me is if you follow the trail of duderay stickers.

Hot Baby Roy and Hot Firey Love Lady are looking after Battle Cat.  Hot Firey Love Lady is really excited about it so much so that I'm really starting to come round to her. I think Hot Baby Roy has landed on his feet with her so lucky bastard.

Anyway me, my laptop and a big bottle of whiskey are deep in the Irish countryside.

Happy Twelfth for those who care, even happier one for those who don't.

How to Avoid The Mess That Is Orangefest

That's me off on the first wee holiday to meself that I've had in donkeys (years - yes it's been years - unless you count going to stay with my brother in Larne, which I don't).

I found out that I'd accrued a few days holiday so I'm getting paid for my wee fucking off. It's gonna be great, just a wee jaunt down south to get the Twelfth out of the way. I went last year and to be honest Orangefest was a big nothing.

I thought I should tell you something about work because I don't much. It's a different place from the last call centre. Work is easier but a bit more boring because of it. Even Little My and Kissy Boy who were in the last place seem different, everyone's a little more asleep. Betty Blue just sits in the canteen and reads. She was reading a book today called The Collector I asked her what it's about and she said a friend of an ex-boyfriend. I hope that wasn't a dig at me. Anyone read it? I haven't the balls to google it incase it was an insult, be gentle but tell me. I want to know.

Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself Creepy Poster Mutherfucker

Thanks to Patty Pat and Emma for posting the video below:



I had my own experience with this guy a few months ago. I was out one day sticking up my stickers round Belfast (you know the ones) when I saw this guy on his bike in front of me, he was ripping down posters and some of my stickers (bastard). I followed him through the city replacing my stickers as he took them down.

I lost him somewhere at the top of the Ormeau Road (where it meets the Ravenhill Road). I'm not too bothered by him because I'm going to win. I'll stick my stickers up everywhere I find him or some other prick has taken them down.

He can party down and go fuck himself just like me.

Up Above The Streets and Houses Rainbow Climbing High

Me and Battle Cat were out walking down the Lagan Towpath out by Central Station yesterday and it was pissing down. The weather's funny nowadays and we need a big old thunderstorm to sort it out before I fuck off for the Twelfth (yay!) because I don't want shite weather ballsing it up for me. Anyways me and Battle Cat were stuck out in it and had nothing to do other than head the fuck for home but the more we walked it kept looking like it was about to stop before turning heavy again.

This lovely rainbow showed up on the other side of the river, really vibrant probably the most intense one I've ever seen, and I noticed that the clouds that surrounded it were dark, really dark but the ones inside it were lighter and I thought something but I can't really remember it properly, one of those touchy feely thoughts about how beauty or our dreams keep the stuff that can be dark light or lighter because you know that the dark clouds and the light clouds were the same clouds but the rainbow was making the ones inside it light and the rainbow is just an illusion or some shit. I forgot it like I said I just wanted to get me and my puppy dog home to warm clothes and hot chocolate.

When I got home Hot Baby Roy and Hot Firey Love Lady had made some tasty pasta dish and were up in his room getting fresh, they'd left a note on the fridge for me saying I could take some.

It was all feeling like some nice sort of day where you jump in the air and shout yahoo or something because you're happy. Then my phone beeped. It was a text from Fabian Wildman.

NOT SURE IF YOUR STILL USING THIS NUMBER. IT WAS GOOD SEEING YOU THE OTHER WEEK. WANT TO HANG OUT A BIT SOMETIME SOON?

I Can Whoop Some Ass

I was going to post up the funny crap inside The Suicide Diaries but instead I went for a walk with a nice bottle of pink champaigne down the Lagan Meadows. I should really describe the Lagan Meadows to some of you after all this time. It starts in Stranmillis in South Belfast and cuts an upside down V all the way out to Lisburn (not a fucking) City. It's great because it feels like you've walked for miles out into the countryside but you're never really further than a mile away from some houses.

So there I was down there when I ran into Rock and Roll Stephen, he was balling his eyes out and saying that The Indie Kid leaving was like Pete and Carl going their seperate ways.

I said that he'd be happier wanking off cows, he was a country boy really and all this roley smoking posturing was fucking him up. He didn't know how to do one and now he can't remember how to do the other.

He told me I better get out of here because an enemy was on the way. He fixed me a steely stare and spat on the ground.

Suddenly Clarence Pishflap and the Unicorn Girl came into view.

"Hello Clarence Pishflap and The Unicorn Girl," I said.

The Unicorn Girl gave me a big hug and called me the truster of poems. Clarence growled. I asked him if he was still wanting to beat Hot Baby Roy up and he said that he was going to meet up with him at a later date and knuckles were going to bleed.

"My knuckles will bleed," he screamed before falling to the ground screaming.

"Stop acting like a fucking wanker," The Unicorn Girl shouted at him. "I've told you it doesn't fucking impress me."

She stormed off up the path, he stood up and ran after her shouting apologies.

Rock and Roll Stephen laughed. It was nice to see him happy. He laughed as he walked down into the meadows singing Libertines songs to himself. I don't think he'll miss The Indie Kid all that much.