Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself

Settling in at work

2009-11-21T08:38:00.000-08:00

It's only been one week and I'm already starting to settle in, this should be good. I still have time for Battle Cat, so that's the main thing.

The problem is, is it good to feel settled in? I can't say too much about what we do because mainly if I start to say things that let people know where I work etc, I can't be so open about other things. In fact I've already been to open to feel comfortable with anyone knowing who I am unless I've checked them out first.

Mainly I'll say that it's a call centre and involves credit card transactions. I'll also say that it involves unreasonable and unrealistic things like monitoring how long people spend on each call and bollocking them if they spend too long, regardless of whether they've sorted the problem out.

I know that when I call a call centre about a problem I resent the idea that they're watching the clock and trying to get me off the phone. I'm not calling for a chat or to waste someone's time I'm calling to get something sorted out.

So is it really okay for me to feel settled in and happy to be doing this?

I remember when I was at school having a part time job in a nearby factory. I also remember a friend starting at the same time I did. He quit after three days because he could still see the job from the outside and knew that sometimes you shouldn't slip into that comfortable feeling. It looks uncomfortable for a reason.

Volunteering in Prisons and Hot Baby Roy

2009-11-20T06:20:00.001-08:00

I was walking over the Ormeau Bridge last night when I bumped into Hot Baby Roy, he was telling me that he thought his idea for a pub quiz would never get off the ground and that he thought people thought he was a joke. He'd show them, Hot Baby Roy was going to rule this city one day. He'd become something important, like mayor.

He was getting pretty worked up and I told him that I thought he should do some voluntary work, just to show the community he cared about them in his heart.

He snorted and said that the only person he ever knew that did voluntary work used to go into prisons and the guards would sedate all the prisoners and he'd go in and molest them then fuck off home and Hot Baby Roy thought that was disgusting.

I told him he should go to Oxfam and sell clothes. He said that he couldn't be trusted on a till. People have to know their limits and he knew his.

He asked me how the call centre was working out and I told him it was shite because I didn't want him getting a job there. I said on the first day they take you into a room and kick the shite out of you. He looked keen and asked if any women did the beating.

I told him no, it was all ugly men.

Forget it, he said. But I can't I've been thinking about it since yesterday.

David Cameron doesn't care if his wife doesn't cum

2009-11-18T10:15:00.000-08:00

Today I had a whiff of what Kissy Boy does to earn his sex man status in the call centre. He started a conversation today about making women cum. He said that all men care about making women cum and that it's just a myth that men role over and go to sleep after they've cum.

Some girl said that her last boyfriend used to wank in the shower and wipe it on the wall. The room went quiet then and it seemed she'd cast herself as the unwanted one in the office (Little My smiled to herself at that point).

Kissy Boy spoke up and said: "I can't believe that men like that exist, I always make sure the woman comes first."

"Yeah right, all men want to come," said Little My, rampant on 5 cups of tea.

"Don't worry, I always cum. It's easier if I know my woman has cum too. It's great when we cum together."

"I think David Cameron wouldn't care if his wife SamCam came," said Book Boy. Book Boy is intelligent, he has a masters degree in politics and likes to talk about intelligent things.

"Yes," said Kissy Boy after a thought, "I don't think Conservative Party leader David Cameron would care if his wife came or not. Even Labour Leader Gordon Brown would make sure that Sarah Brown came."

We all agreed that David Cameron would only care about his own orgasm and would drift off to sleep soon afterwards, and if SamCam whimpered or asked what about her he'd slime :"at least I came."

The Great Office Love Triangle

2009-11-17T12:13:00.000-08:00

I ended up talking to Little My at lunch today, because I'd nothing better to say I asked if her and Rap Superstar hit it off on Friday night.

She said that they had but that that was old news. He wanted a good time but she was after mister right now. She looked all confused after she'd said it, like she'd missed a joke, so she repeated it with swear words but still didn't get where the joke should be.

Anyway, she fancied Kissy Boy now, like all the office girls.

I asked her who Kissy Boy was?

She said he was the office hunk.

What about me? I thought. Surely no one called Kissy Boy can be hotter than me.

She pointed Kissy Boy out to me later. He was posing around the office all bleached teeth and steroid arms hanging out of his Ironic T-Shirt. I told Little My that Kissy Boy used steroids so his dick wouldn't work. She said I was just jealous. I suppose she had a point, and I couldn't believe that I was trying to get Little My to like me over Kissy Boy, when the truth was that if she did I'd probably tell her a big list of why she should go back to fancying Kissy Boy.

I've been too busy trying to get to grips with my job I haven't taken the time to look round for a Mrs. Tuesday Kid.

There's bound to be one.

I will find her, no matter what occurs.

First Day on the Floor

2009-11-16T14:45:00.000-08:00

So today I was in bright and breezy at nine for my first day on the floor taking calls. It's such a sweat shop. We were threw down to answering calls and having fuckers rant at us fullscale from the word hello, actually we've this pish script to recite at the start of the call, it's not as bad as what dicks at McDonalds have to say but it's not as accurate as "If you're going to be a dick to me, fuck off," which I'm gonna say if this keeps up.

People came round and every so often asked if we were doing alright but when we said no they didn't really do much.

I was called off to the side by my manager for telling a woman that I only just started working here and had never spoken to her before because she was sitting going, "you did _____" and "you did _____" and then later I was called again for telling a customer to stop spitting (I thought this was funny but the manager didn't).

Not much of a start, but a start at least (or most).

Windy Day Sexy Fais

2009-11-15T12:17:00.000-08:00

I stood in some glass this morning. I was pure raging I thought about that Bruce Lee movie where he makes the baddies eat paper and warns them that next time they act like muthafuckers he'll make them eat glass.

Still at least Battle Cat didn't stand in it. The wee bit of glass is stuck in my foot and I've tried wiggling it and putting it in a bucket of warm water but nothing.

Then I sat down for a good cry and watched the rubgy, did you see O'Driscoll's try at the end, good on you mutherfucker, class only wish we'd won instead of drawn.

Sat making a doll of My Protege so I could teach Battle Cat to attack him but I can't draw for shit and it ended up looking like Prince Harry, and Battle Cat would bite him anyway.

Broken Windows will Earn Someone a Broken Mouth

2009-11-14T12:06:00.000-08:00

Sitting down watching Harry Hills TV Burp getting ready to support the Jedward Boys (by the way Derek Accorah is a funky dancer, who knew?) when a brick comes flying through the window. Luckily it missed Battle Cat, me and the TV. I jumped up and ran out. I knew who it was My Protege the wee bastard. What a wee fucker?

Like all bastard kids they were far away before I was even out the door, I just heard the wee fuckers cackling at the end of the street. It's a sad fucking day when some wee bastards want to bust your windows for wearing clothes.

I'm gonna get my protege and stick my foot so far up his arse my leg will disolve in his guts.

Come on Jedward.

Going Drinking With Office Peeps

2009-11-13T09:34:00.000-08:00

So we had our last day of training today and Monday we're out on the floor robbing folk.

Not looking forward to it, especially since we have all these targets to get to for how long we spend on a call and how much we fleece people in doing so.

I'm sure I'll be balling my eyes out at some wee old lady who buys our guff over tins of cat food for her wee bald cat.

We all went out for drinks after the training, or we were supposed to, but half an hour in and one pint down we were down to just me, Rap Superstar and Little My.

Rap Superstar said that we were the three musketeers and started rapping about killing the King of France with an amazing dance.

It was embarrassing as fuck and people in the pub started sniggering and pointing. I felt so small.

He went to the toilet for a big pish and Little My (who hadn't noticed the responses) started talking about how Rap Superstar was so talented with all his rapping.

I said I thought raping would be more his sort of thing.

She didn't hear me and I caught myself on in time to not repeat it. I just downed my pint and said that I'd leave the two of them to get to know each other a bit better, I tried to give a knowing wink but I think it came off a bit sleazy. Little My gave a shy giggle and I felt a wee bit sorry for her. I hope they're hitting it off now.

Nanny Boo Boo and Me have a Talk

2009-11-11T15:00:00.000-08:00

Nanny Boo Boo asked me to call down to hers after work today. She had a cup of tea and nice buns all laid out when I came in.

She said that My Protege had been round balling his wee eyes out about how I was a big puff and sitting in front of the TV drunk in women's clothes and she hit him a clash round the face and told him to mind his own fucking business.

I knew Nanny Boo Boo would be cool about it even though some older fuckers can be right squares about that sort of thing. She said whatever I did was cool and that it was my own business and she could get me some nice tasty stuff or even kinky negligees out of her club book if I fancied it. I said thanks but I thought that might become awkward if I couldn't keep up the payments.

She said that My Protege was a wee wanker but that's just because of the age of him and she hasn't forgotten about what he did to the cats arses with bangers and she told him that if it wasn't for me My Protege would be selling his arse on the streets for freedbased cocaine and soda pop, and no one would touch the spotty wee bastard. She told him so, but she said that if he came around to my tranny ways then he'd be a successful man when he grows up.

This made me happy. Then she asked me if I'd a girl name for when I wore my clothes. I said Lily but this is balls. I don't go in for that shit. I'm just a man in tight spandex.

Busted in Drag

2009-11-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

So there I was downing a full bottle of whiskey, wearing the oul drag and watching X-Factor on Saturday night, when I looks out the window and sees My Protege and one of his wee wanker mates standing outside.

My Protege had a face like beetroot (he's a big beetroot head at him but anyway) and his mate was pishing himself and shouting "he's so gay!"

"Here you wee bastard, come on in and my dog will eat you for saying that."

"I'm not going into your house, you're gay!" he shouted.

I opened the front door and walked out all Get Carter and said:

"Battle Cat eat this wee wanker."

Battle Cat ran out woofing and the wee fucker ran off. In truth Battle Cat would have just licked him but he wasn't to know and didn't stick around to find out.

"He's right," shouted My Protege "you're a fruit," and he ran off crying.

Fuck him. I just find it comfy.

Fuck Work It's The Weekend

2009-11-06T12:54:00.000-08:00

That's it for another shite week, after next I'm in the call centre proper, so fuck that. I'm going to get pished with the last penny I have and after that I'll be thieving until the wage packet come in. Yeow!

Getting To Know My Cellmates

2009-11-05T11:54:00.000-08:00

Now Hoors Bastard is gone I've been able to start getting to know the rest of the group.

It isn't pretty.

While they're are no Hoors Bastards they mostly seem to have problems of their own.

Only today Little My was sitting talking about how at night she also works in an off-licence. She said this like it was something to be proud of, working all the time. I was close to telling her I spent the past year sitting on my hole smoking crack but I didn't want to be the new Hoors Bastard so I just nodded and said: "that's nice."

That's starting to be my new catchphrase, there's another guy who works there and he says he's the baddest rapper in the game, he started spitting out all this shit about shooting people and rolling up the Ardone with the crips. He keeps trying to talk in rhyme. Little My thinks he's a genius. He thinks she looks like a gnome. It'll all end in tears, hopefully both of theirs.

Bye Bye Hoors Bastard and Fuck You to the Dole

2009-11-04T10:35:00.000-08:00

Hoors Bastard started a conversation with me about music. I told him that I liked hip hop and R and B and he started all this shite about how I must be gay because Techno was the only thing that real men listened to.

I told him that he was sum craic and he had a big happy grin pasted all over his wobbly fat face all day, right up until our trainer told him he'd balled up his last test and he was out of the game.

He sat in the reception crying and told the trainer he'd get his da to come up and slap him on the bake. I'm glad to see the back of the fucker. Him and his sum craic and his happy hardcore collection. He'll need it now he's back on the dole queue. Speaking of which I went down there and asked for my £300. You see if you're on the dole for 6 months and then you get a job they'll give you £100 and the housing will give you £200 until you get your first wage. It's really a year but they're sneaky bastards about this. Anyway I had my dole cut off for two days a few months ago (long story) and because of this they say I haven't been receiving it for a whole year. Fucking bastards the lot of them. I hope Hoors Bastard turns their heads with his craic from now until they drop dead of being bastards.

Call Centres Make Me Want To Smoke Crack

2009-11-03T09:51:00.000-08:00

November is a miserable month, I'm all trying to keep things street and at work we're being told how to fleece people. See in all the contracts there's these wee clauses (not my work one, the ones that customers sign up to) and they say that customers aren't allowed money back if they don't want our products anymore but in court they could get it back (that was a struggle). This is bullshit, we're supposed to sit and say "read the small print (and weep)" and why should we, it's not as if we get any richer by ripping them off, I'm on a fixed hourly rate that will increase every year slightly below inflation.

I didn't know half this shit until some dude in the training started spouting it out. He wasn't there by the end of the day. I wish it had of been the fat hoors bastard because he's just caught on that one of the other guys is gay and he's started making all these really bad gay jokes and when no one laughs he says "What are yous like, I'm just being some craic!" Dunno about craic, I'd prefer a bit of crack after the money comes in.

Then when someone else says something properly funny he just sits with a big grumpy face and tries to outdo them with a big sweary gay joke, whoors bastard that he is.

Work is Hard Work

2009-11-02T09:24:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven't been around for a few weeks. My new job has been taking up a lot of my time (it and Mafia Wars).

The new job is not much to write home about (or write here about). I'm stuck in a training group of boring bastards. One fat fucker walked in on the first day and said: "Has anyone here got the last name Campbell?" this wee guy says "Aye, me," then the first tool says: "Yeow! Soupy." What a whoors bastard. It's enough to make me want to start smoking crack again.

I haven't had time to see anyone and I've been too pissed off to write this up. Was getting a job the right decision?

It gets worse, because I started after a certain date (not saying which one because I don't want anyone at work knowing I write slabbery things about them online) I won't get paid until the end of next month. Fuck that. It seems I'm going to have to go on the rob or die!

My Year

2009-10-25T04:05:00.000-07:00

So I started this blog just after my birthday last year and what a year it's been. I've been sitting back taking stock of everything that's happened.

I started it because I was always going round in circles and getting into the same old crap.

I can say though that in this past year I've given up crack, started looking after a pet, joined and been kicked out of a sweaty heavy metal vomit rock and roll band and met a tonne of new people, some of which are good friends. Not just that but if you look down my side bar you'll see a load of other cool people you should check out.

That said here's a few wee stats about my year.

I've had 3 housemates - Fabian Wildman, Battle Cat and Hot Baby Roy (briefly)
I was going to count the number of fights I was in but I couldn't be arsed, you just need to know I won them all.
I've had sex a few times (not enough) and still have no girlfriend.
I started wearing leotards
I met someone who thinks that unicorns are an extinct species
I've been asked to watch Wild Child 143 times and said no 142.
I vomited in a woman's mouth (and she vomited in mine)
I saved a few people from unjustly getting their balls kicked.
I forged a member of Razorlight's autograph (to stop someone going to the police)
I cried a bit but I laughed a lot
I sniffed a few felt tips
I shoplifted loads
and I may or may not have licked the bowl (some people may wonder though).

I've not had a job but as of yesterday I have now found one and I start my pish call centre training on Monday. Wish me luck!

A nice Suprise

2009-10-21T13:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday started off really pish. I went and bought more booze and went down to Tomb St Carpark where all the Emo kids hang out but it was too pish for them to be out so
I sat by myself listening to cars passing overhead. Then I took a walk out Corporation Square and watched the boats leave. Lucky bastards. Someday maybe me.

Then I walked home pished and pissed off. I stopped in at an internet cafe and tried to look up porn but the guy behind the counter kept staring at my screen so I could only see parts of a naked lady as I had to shrink the window and scroll.

I still haven't heard back about my job.

When I got home I found my key wouldn't work in the lock, some wee bastard probably tried to pick it. I hoped I'd get in round the back, that or maybe one of the neighbours would let me kip over at theirs.

Battle Cat ran to the back gate when I jumped over it and jumped up on me and started licking me.

"Hello pup, at least you're glad to see me," I said. He woofed in agreement.

The backdoor was easily opened but I'd no sooner got inside than the lights went on and everyone shouted "surprise!"

There was Nanny BooBoo, Hot Baby Roy, My Brothers (apart from the hot shot banker),My Protege The Sweaty Metallers, The Banshee, The Indie Kid, even Rock and Roll Stephen (who invited him?), Good King Thumpo (this could be trouble), and two girls I didn't know (my new neighbours).

I didn't have a chance to say anything before they launched into a big chorus of Happy Birthday. This was rock and roll at it's best.

After everything I didn't know what to say, I was a bit overwhelmed because I hadn't mentioned it to anyone and I hadn't planned on celebrating it.

Battle Cat saved me by coming padding in wagging his tail. He's grown so much in the past year.

"Right let's get some cake in you," said Nanny BooBoo. Then the party took off Rock and Roll style with everyone coming up to me and giving me presents and pats on the back.

Nanny BooBoo gave me a leather jacket (because in her day that's what cool dudes wore), Hot Baby Roy gave me a DVD of Wild Child ("no excuses for not watching it now," he said). The Indie Kid gave me a piece of paper that said No Hard Feelings signed Johnny Borrell, My Protege gave me some cans of spray paint which I'm sure he's stolen but he was talking about how we can do some cool graffiti together, my Metaller brother gave me a Phil Collins CD which actually had a Metallica one inside it and a post it saying - this is real Heavy Metal. Then there were all the typical bottles of assorted booze that we were going to get pished on throughout the evening.

The party was in full swing and I was having a great time running round everyone blabbing shite. My metaller brother was having a great time talking to the sweaty metallers who seemed to be getting on again (there was talk of them starting another band). I said thanks to Nanny BooBoo because I knew that it could only be her who organised it. She said that it was nothing I was always doing things to help out other people, so she thought it was time someone did something nice for me.

After a while the booze started to run low so I popped out to get some more. It was pretty late and the off-licence near me was closing. It (like a lot of fucking shops in Belfast) always closes about ten minutes before it's supposed to.

There knocking on the door was Hooka, she looked so different, she'd none of the goth witch look about her anymore, all blonde hair and pink flourescent tights.

"Hey Hooka, how've you been?" I said.
"Who are you?" she said.
"It's me, Tuesday Kid."
"Oh," she said. Then went back to knocking the door.

We weren't getting booze there. I walked off to a place I know sells it after hours (can't say where, I'd feel shit if it got busted because of me). Seeing Hooka was fucking strange.

Not as strange though as turning the next corner and seeing Fabian Wildman leaning on the gate post at the edge of someone's garden. He leaned over and boked all over the footpath.

"Tuesday Kid," he said seeing me. "You better not stick around, Mother of Bowling Ball's inside. if he comes out it'll be bad."

"Fuck him, why aren't you at my party? Why haven't you been round?"

"I've been busy with other things he said. Sandcastles came out. She took one look at me, then gave Fabian a kiss and went back inside.

"So you're not with Betty Blue anymore?" I asked.

"No, it's me and Sandcastles now, we're heading for the goal line," he said. I don't think he meant it. He'd a hole in his shoes and his clothes looked pretty dirty. He's going back into one of his phases where he sits around doing fuck all but getting wasted. I can't see her sticking with him then.

"You're a bastard, after all I did to help you out and you just shrug and fuck off with your dick head mates."

"Things are taking shape for me," he said. "You're going through some things, you need to sort them out for yourself."

"I gave you a place to live, I lied to the cops for you."

He pulled some face like this was no big deal. I wasn't to me but I could just as easily have let them arrest him.

I wanted to hit him but Mother of Bowling Ball came running out.

"So, you're Tuesday Kid? Let's see you act tough now," he said.

I dropped him with one punch.

"Fuck you," I said to Fabian Wildman, then I fucked off up the road. I even forgot to get the booze, I just went back to mine.

It was strange seeing him and Hooka. In a way I'd no bad feelings towards her. She looked like she's sorted herself out a bit, I always got the impression that she wasn't so happy with being a witch, Fabian though just looked like he was bumming from one lot to the next working out how he can get wasted and fuck about.

I went back to mine and found my party was getting a bit of a shambles too.

The Sweaty Metallers were squaring up and my metaller brother was getting in the middle telling them to take it easy. Rock and Roll Stephen was shaking with fear close to tears and a big wet patch on his tight jeans as the pish flowed down his leg. Good King Thumpo had him backed into a corner and was getting ready to hit him.

Nanny BooBoo was trying to stop The Indie Kid and My Protege from fighting with blunt butter knives. What had went wrong?

"Friends," I said jumping up on the table. "If you really are my friends then listen to me. All I want you to do for me is one thing - be cool!"

"I told you he was fucking deep," said My Protege. Everyone nodded. Then this started playing.

Hot Baby Roy (who put the song on) lined us all up and got his camera out. He told us to look at it and shout "Who are we?"

A deep question indeed. Some people maybe look to me for the answer. I just realised it's not important to answer it.

Another Job Interview

2009-10-20T12:46:00.001-07:00

My day with my protege really helped me yesterday.

I realised that I had to accept who I was and if other people had a problem with it screw them. What's important is that I'm okay with being me.

I thought about this all the way to my interview and I thought that when they asked me what I'd done I'd just say:

"Listen, I used to smoke crack, but now I don't. If any of you have a problem with that then you deal with it. I'm just setting out on my journey and I'm gonna screw up from time to time. If you don't like it then I'll screw your ma, wife and any legal age female offspring you might have."

I felt great. I felt okay being me.

In the interview when they asked me that question it was like a wake up call. That answer would get me nowhere.

"I've been travelling in foreign countries, very far away. There's no way they'd answer the phone to you."

They asked me where and I just rhymed off a load of names I wasn't sure if they were places I'd made up or places from films.

They looked pleased. Maybe I gave them a good laugh. They'd better give me the job. If they were just laughing at me they're getting broken windows and a fucked family.

My Protege Teaches Me

2009-10-19T14:13:00.000-07:00

I took the Death Owl's money and went and bought a bottle of wine and sat down at the Lagan Lookout at Stranmillis.

I couldn't believe I was here on my own, with no job and pish all money. How the fuck had this happened?

How had I not found a job? or why wasn't I living somewhere nice? Or had a girlfriend? Cunts like the Death Owl seemed to be winning why I was a busted loser.

My protege came and found me. He told me he wanted a new lesson.

I asked him what could I teach him? In truth I'm a terrible teacher, and that's usually okay for my terrible students (he's not the first I've given knowledge to) but it wasn't okay for him.

He told me he thought I was badass and that he could learn how to be cool from my coolness and he knows that I've made mistakes and that's cool because he wants to learn from them too.

"Okay," I said. "Here's your last lesson: do as I say, not as I do," then I boked all over myself and burst into tears.

He gave me a hug and told me I was a great role model because I taught him that it was okay to cry if you were a badass.

A big snotter came out my nose. He didn't mention that.

Old Enemies Really Do Run Belfast

2009-10-17T09:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went for a job interview. It was a shitty call centre one. I was sitting in the reception all prepared to lie about my experience and intentions when I was called into a room with non other than The Death Owl and Mr Ponti. Except Mr Ponti wasn't really called Mr. Ponti, he was called Boris something or other.

They had big smug bastard grins written all over their faces when I sat down in front of them.

"So, if it isn't crack headed Tuesday Kid?" The Death Owl smirked. "Want a job do you?"
"That's right," I said trying to brush off the fact that I was sitting in front of two complete wankers that I'd hoped I'd never see again.
"We don't employ crack heads. Our business is serious. However..." the Death Owl said.
I sat waiting for him to finish.
"How is your dog?" said Mr Ponti.
"That's none of your busines," I replied.
"That's not very friendly," said the Death Owl. "Especially since you're wanting us to give you a job."
"Are you going to give me one?" I asked.
"I'll give you something else," said the Death Owl bringing out his majik wand.
He was about to zap me before I took off my shoe and threw it at him, snapping the wand into shite.

Mr. Ponti dived over the desk at me but I uppercutted him, knocking him clean out cold.

The Death Owl started dancing around the room.

"You're so dead," he said, "I'm a yellow belt in Karate now."

He pulled off some fancy Chuck Norris roundhouse but it missed me by miles. I pinned him up against the wall.

"I'll scream for help," he said.

"Do it," I shrugged. "They won't get here before I twist your balls."

He fainted right away. I spat a big drooly spittle all over his face.

Then I stole money from both their wallets. A result of sorts. Though not the one I was hoping for.

Pete Doherty Plays Belfast!!

2009-10-16T03:41:00.000-07:00

The Indie Kid across the street threw a party last night. A kind of 'let's get the parties started' thing but later he told me (when totally pished and close to tears) that it had all been about getting some of the fine pussy across the street. She didn't show up but there was a motley cast of indie rock and rollers from around Belfast.

Rock and Roll Stephen was there, meaning business, wearing the tightest pair of women's jeans and the tightest perm and his mothers handbag. He'd a wee silver case full of rollies.

I told him he looked like he meant business and he said: "From now on things are going to be full on, with relationships and studying."

I winced and told him that I once met Johnny Borrell in Donaghadee (a lie but the Indie Kid will back me up because he thinks it's true).

For some reason Sexy Carlos was there and he was walking around bare chested with the words "Who do I trust? I trust me!" scrawled across his chest in red lipstick. A thing Rock and Roll Stephen told me he'd stolen from the Manic Street Preachers, I thought it was Scarface.

I got talking to this girl at the punch bowl who told me that she was going to comit suicide when she turned twenty one. I asked her what age she was and she said nineteen. I told her that she should extend it to twenty five because after school and uni there's a lot of fun to be had lying around on the dole playing computer games and smoking crack (if that's your thing, it's not mine any more).

She told me that what I'd just said was profound. I smiled like a dog who's just realised it can lick it's own balls. I pretty much talked to her the rest of the night giving out half-wisdoms which she pretty much lapped up like a cat who'd been left out a bowl of milk by people who aren't it's owners.

Rock and Roll Stephen nearly spoiled it by bringing out a guitar and shouting:

"Who says Pete Doherty can't come to Belfast. Rock and Roll Stephen brings Pete Doherty right here!"

Then he started playing some Pete Doherty but no one really listened. I was glad when he fucked off home in tears.

New Neighbours?

2009-10-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

The wee Indie Fan across the street is back now for uni. I hadn't realised he'd gone until I passed him on the street and he asked me all the gossip over the summer. Turns out he knew as much as I did. (I think he might read this blog). He asked why the sweaty metallers moved out.

I told him it was lady trouble.

He laughed and said: "Was it over yer doll that sang for them? You'd tap her alright, she wasn't there because of her voice that's for sure."

Then he did some weird oos and aas that sounded like her only more in tune.

Then he said that a fitter doll had moved in in her place. He saw her this moring going out for a jog.

"Lovely thing," he kept saying.

I think he might have got his hole for the first time over the summer because now he's talking like he's Crocket and Tubbs rolled into one big cherry tying ball of spunk.

"Is there a guy there too?" I asked.

"Not that I've seen," he said. "If there is he won't be too hard to see off."

Yes he's had his hole. Lucky boy. I just hope he doesn't get his legs broke by the new girl's man (if she has one, if she hasn't it might be me doing the leg breaking).

Late Night Drunken Phonecall to Spitboke

2009-10-13T19:28:00.000-07:00

I was all drinking on my own tonight and I felt lonely so I called Spitboke. Here's the conversation or thereabouts (she's in italics):

"Hey,"

"Hey yourself, who's this?"

"This is Tuesday Kid? Is this Spitboke?"

"Yes, who are you, how did you get my number?"

"You gave it to me the other morning after we had hot sex together. Don't you remember?"

"Is this Stephen again?"

"No, who's Stephen?"

"Are you one of his asshole friends? If you are my dad knows someone who will throw you out of a window."

"No, I just want to ask you out for a hot date."

"How do I know you?"

"I pulled you in Laverys. I was with the big guy who was covered in tattoos. The one who was calling all the other guys gay."

"Sorry still don't know you and I think homophobia is so lame. I've kissed girls before and I'm cool about stuff like that."

"Me too, I've kissed loads of girls."

(Here she did one of those asshole fake laughs to say she didn't find it funny)

"So do you want to go on a date or not?"

"I still don't know you."

"Remember I had a dog and you boked on my bed?"

"Up yours creepo I don't do stuff like that. I'm from the Malone Rd."

"Come on, let's meet next Tuesday and go to Cheapo Tuesdays at the Dublin Road Cinema? I'll let you pick the movie. And then we can go back to mine for other stuff."

"This is one of Stephen's friends! My dad will like totally fuck you up and stuff. And he'll make your parent's lose their jobs."

"I'm not Stephen, listen I thought we had a cool time together, not just the sex. I want to talk more to you. I've even shoplifted a bottle of Avril Lavigne's new perfume for you. I know that's what all you wee metal girls love."

"Fuck you, Avril Lavigne isn't heavy metal, she's punk rock."

"No she has some heavy metal stuff too. Listen do you want to date me or not?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Come on, what have you got to lose?"

"My Kidneys on the black market asshole. Up yours."

Then she hung up.

This isn't fair. I was really nice to her the other morning. I didn't even charge her for a new duvet. Maybe I should just be a bastard like Good King Thumpo. I'm going to write her number all over Belfast in the perviest toilets I can find. And if I do run into her da, he'll find out how those people he fucked up feel.

Tuesday Kid the Teacher - Another Lesson

2009-10-12T10:22:00.000-07:00

The post brought me two letters, both interviews for jobs I've applied for. Both call centre shit but I can do the training and fuck off before I have to start the post.

My protege was waiting for me in Stranmillis today. I was glad to see him because I was eager to undo any damage meeting Hot Baby Roy might have done. I shouldn't have been worried.

"That guy was a wanker," my Protege said.

"He can be okay," I said, "try not to become like him."

"I won't I've got you teaching me how to be the coolest," he said (thereabouts). "Last night I was getting pished with my mates and we kicked fuck out of someone. Just some dick who was walking around minding his own business."

I hit him a boot up the hole.

"What the fuck was that for?" he said.

I dug him in the guts.

"There, you don't like getting beat up for fuck all," I said. "Neither did he, that's today's lesson."

"We gave him a worse kicking than that," he said.

Then I put him in a head lock and gave him a duck egg. He ran away crying.

Tuesday Kid Brings Knowledge to the Streets

2009-10-11T08:18:00.000-07:00

After the other day I decided it's time I took more interest into my Protege. I don't want him to become another version of me. I want him to be better.

I went down Stranmillis to find him and ran into Hot Baby Roy.

"This is a bit out of your stomping ground," I said.

"Not at all," said Hot Baby Roy. "The joggers, the fine athletic wear on the nice women here."

I told him that someone would twist his balls if they caught him perving. He snorted and said that he could take care of himself.

I told him that the joggers didn't take too kindly to being leered at.

Then my protege came along and said that he needed another lesson.

Hot Baby Roy said. "Tell girls a fake name, but one that sounds similar to your real name, so you can say they misheard if you like them."

"Hot Baby Roy stop corrupting him. I'm teaching him knowledge to get him off the streets."

Hot Baby Roy looked all shocked.

"Tell him how to get his hole and he'll be fine, he'll work out the rest if he needs to," he said.

Then he went off to perv at jogger ladies.

I turned to my protege and said, "if you ever find yourself in the company of ginger people, make your excuses and run before they learn your name."