Hot Baby Roy hasn't been here all week so I called him to ask where he was. He said that he was in Donegal with Hot Firey Love Lady. I told him I was happy for him but that this call was costing me da bomb (I think that's the right context to say that, isn't it?).
I'm jealous as fuck of him and gingerella swanning around being all cool and luved up and me just lonely and playing pinball in my tightest spandex. Sometimes I think I'll go coco bongo and walk out into the middle of the street wielding a baseball bat and singing "I'm Tuesday Kid and I am funky," as I batter civilians at first, and cops as they try to play the heroes. Something is holding me back though and I'm not sure what it is. It's something to do with Battle Cat, something about how I was sure I'd bought a big violent dog (in the making) but he ended up a big cuddly friend of a dog. I hope it's my influence. I hope I'm holding back because I'd end up shouting for a bit and make it obvious that I'm unhappy. I want my parties back, I want a big bag of crack. Wages are in, maybe I'll call up Zim Van Bindle and see if he wants to watch the sweat drip from my balls.
