Hangovers are becoming the norm for me, when I wake up in the morning without one I start to realise I'm not keeping up with myself. I was wandering about the lower Lisburn Road when all I heard was:
"Tuesday Kid lad, bout ye!"
I turned to see Good King Thumpo rolling up to me all happy and with a big rottweiller saying he was out to rid the streets of tramps and Ma-Mutt was helping him in the fight. It was all a bit much with my fuzzy head. I asked him why he wanted his mutt but bite the homeless and he said that he was training up the dog on tramps because no one misses them if you go too far.
Then he started to get really excited when he said that once he was rid of the tramps he was going to start on immigrants.
Then he went for a pish in one of the phoneboxes beside Charlie's coffee shop. He gave two fingers in the window and shouted "What you looking at?" at them.
Then he asked me if I wanted to go to this really high class brothel he knew about on Botanic? No foreigners apparently.
I told him no. He looked hurt and said that we hadn't hung out in ages and he'd missed our craic.
I told him that I didn't agree with his politics and he said that I didn't seem to have a problem with it when he was out breaking the other side's legs, just cause he's now into breaking black or yellow legs suddenly I'm saying it's wrong.
He said that he needs a side to belong to but he isn't the one picking the teams.
I asked him what he was talking about and he waved a copy of some shite local tabloid. Then he made his dog sniff it and told it that it would know what was tasty when it met it.
Ma-Mutt woofed excitedly and Good King Thumpo pulled his nicest face:
"I love you too Ma-Mutt," he said.
