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.

Shitty Weather Makes Some People Happy

Today as I was walking down through Botanic Avenue in the shitty weather I saw a pretty girl walking along with an umberella, she was telling the big guy with her about how as a kid she used to want to always wear her wellies and umberella even when it wasn't raining. And that her parents wouldn't let her unless it rained so she always hoped she'd wake up in the morning and find it was rainy.

It made me feel good that sometimes there are things you don't like and don't want but that some people look forward to them, not because they piss you off but because they like them, and that the fact they like them shows that there is something good about them and you can at least learn to tollerate them.

I'd like to meet some people on the dole who like it, just in case some of their good cheer can rub off on me, because I think I need it.

I also think some of you who read my blog in shitty office blocks might appreciate the tetris widget I put on the side.

Gerard Taggart is a Thieving Bastard

Hot Baby Roy was sitting in tears at the kitchen table today. He said he'd been back to his old house to collect some nifty housing benefit cheques but there was none there. He had to go down to the housing benefit office to find out where they were. He was told that they had been sent out and that their records showed they had been cashed by a man called Gerard Taggart who had presented ID saying Hot Baby Roy allowed him to cash it.

Hot Baby Roy was furious and said that he hadn't given anyone his ID. It turned out this Gerard Taggart had only presented ID that said he was Gerard Taggart.

Hot Baby Roy was told he had to go to the cops and get a crime number and then he'd be able to get his money paid to him.

By the time Hot Baby Roy had all this the Housing Executive was closed so he now has to wait until Monday to get his money back.

I told him that this Gerard Taggart bastard once stole my housing benefit cheques back when I lived on a bedsit on the Lisburn Road. He's an old fucker in his fifties, looks like Nick O'Teen and has a face like a melted candle.

I told Hot Baby Roy I could point him out to him, he hangs around the Lisburn Road and Botanic Avenue in the early morning.

One time I followed him to Stranmillis but he sussed I was following him and hid in a phonebox. When I clocked where he was he bolted and I didn't see him again for months. If you read this and know him or where he is, tell people to watch him. He's a theiving bastard.

Morning in Belfast

Something about being sick makes me appreciate the ability to get out and stay out of the house. I went the long walk to work this morning and had a dander down Botanic Avenue. I went into the new French cafe, where the hippy shop used to be.

Pretty nice menu, you can't go far wrong with a pancake stack, maple syrup and a big mug of coffee, yummy scrummy.

Old man on Botanic Ave wandering around picking up scraps of paper, and throwing them back down again. Wonder if he thought they were cash, there is a recession I suppose.

Standing at the bus stop opposite The Empire a young man in a tracksuit couldn't keep his hands from down the front of his trousers, maybe he has his wallet down there.

Man on the bus kept doing a Jim McDonald and saying "so it is," all while he sat and shot out random sentences about "that's not how it is," and "you can't expect that for minimum wage". In fairness he seemed to be preparing a conversation he was actually going to (or wanting to) have with his boss rather than just randomly talking to himself.

Went into Waterstones to shoplift but couldn't find a book I wanted. Catcher in the Rye was pure class. I really want to get into this reading thing, any recommendations?

In work I was told that I had to have a back to work interview, it's tomorrow. Never had one of them before. Hope it's not a formality for getting fired.

Crap Day in Belfast

Nanny Boo Boo´s house is much nicer than mine and I´m half tempted to stay there but I´ve drunk all the wine and there´s not much else in the fridge so I had to go back to mine today.

My house is a bit skanky and to tell you the truth if I was paying the money rather than the housing executive I´d move out.

I played some groovy spoons while I waited on the radiator to heat up. I think it´s pish that not only does Fabian Wildman not come round but Hot Baby Roy stays away too. I went down Lisburn Road looking for Good King Thumpo but he was nowhere to be seen. Apparently he hasn´t been seen for ages. I hope he´s in jail or lying at home with broken legs.

Then I bought a bottle of whiskey and walked up and down the Lisburn Road, Botanic Avenue, Ormeau Road and on out into the countryside hoping to see a friendly face but all I saw were phantoms...

I almost felt like buying some crack.

i no can have cheezburger, cat's have all...

Fabian was sitting twitching and dribbling today. It wasn't a pretty sight. He was telling me all about stuff he'd done in the past. A lot of it sounded half mixed in with fantasy but something he'd never told me before was that he'd went to be tested for asperger's disorder a few years back.

An old school friend of his who is now a primary teacher said that a pupil of hers had it and the kid reminded her of Fabian Wildman when he was at school. He went to see the autistic society people on Botanic Avenue. The lady behind the counter told him that he had to make an appointment with the doctor to get tested but that she thought he was "neat" for taking the initiative. I thought of the scene from In Bed with Madonna where the old harpie makes fun of Kevin Costner.

He said the the doctor told him he might have it and that he showed signs but they were very mild and unless he felt he needed help he should think about not getting tested because he'd have it on his records for the rest of his life and regardless of equality legislation people can be prejudiced about these things.

Fabian Wildman said that he had read all these books on body language and social cues since he was a teenager and that's why it doesn't show on him so much, but he's convinced he has it.

Then he boked on himself and asked for Boom Fizzle. Personally I don't think he has it, because I know he had a sheltered upbringing, but I could be wrong.

Belfast Get's Me Down Sometimes

It's indicative of Belfast being bounded by the sea and high hills that you inevitably run into some really inbred people from time to time.

Yesterday I was walking down Shaftsbury Square when I watched this mutherfucker in a car try and cut out from behind this wee old lady in a car and what the fuck happened? He nearly got hit by another car coming from the Donegal Pass. So there they both were at the lights and the wanker who cut out from behind the old ladies was sitting swearing at the other driver (the one from Donegal Pass) so what happens? The one from Donegal Pass just sat there with his window up making wanker signs at him. I really thought there was going to be major road rage and I was all prepared to split it up but it never happened. The wanker just drove off beeping his horn at anyone who cared to listen to him.

Then on my way up Botanic I met this wanker who told me that he thought I was scum and that he hated beggars. I told him that just because I hadn't washed that morning didn't make me a tramp and that my flatmate's ex-flatmate was into black magic and he should fuck off if he knew what was good for him. He wandered off and got in his car. I took the number plate down and if I ever see his fucking face around I'll be chucking stones at his shit fucking Renault (you'll never afford an Audi you bastard).

So I went home and cried in Battle Cat's empty food dish.

WHERE IS MY DOG?

There's still no sign of Battle Cat. I started getting worried that maybe he'd bitten someone, then he'd get put down, even though he's only a puppy still and he'd only do it if he was scared or a bit mad with hunger. Me and Fabian searched all weekend. In a way there was something nice about all the people who helped us look for him but I was so tired after searching for him and it was so hot and me and Fabian Wildman are burnt to shit. I wish I'd a picture of him to make a poster with. Hooka took one and I had a copy but I threw it out when she fucked off.

I was in the Sahara takeaway in Botanic the other night and I asked for a curry chip with onions. Halfway up the road I opened it to find no onions. I started foaming at the mouth (not literally) and shouting about how I was going to go back and bollock the guys for not giving me onions (because to be fair they've done this a few times) but Fabian sensed how stressed I was and got me home okay. I just miss my puppy.

The weather was cooler today so I went to my dealer to find out he'd been busted by cops (ha ha). I suppose this is karma for him not coming to my house yesterday but it left me drugless. That is until, as I was walking home, I bumped into Fabian Wildman in the Crescent Park. He could tell by the way I was twitching that I needed something to take the edge off it, so he invited me up to his flat to smoke crack with him and his flatmate The Death Owl.

The Death Owl is a weird muthafucka who likes to set fire to his big long toenails and then stub them out before they burn his feet. He also wears a big grim reapers cloak and to be honest I don't think he's doing it for a joke (which makes it funny). 

Anyways I had a nice big smoke of the crack pipe and went out for a walk. Fabian Wildman came with me and we went about Botanic where there were lots of pictures of a guys face that had been flypostered everywhere. It was a bit weird. We wished we had markers to draw over them but he already had a silly moustache. We wanted to give him speech bubbles saying funny stuff like "I'm a wanker" but we hadn't got any. So I went home and Fabian Wildman went back to his flat with The Death Owl.

He gets a bit scared of The Death Owl sometimes. He was telling me that sometimes he wakes up to find The Death Owl standing at the foot of his bed or staring in the window at him.

Poor Fabian. I went home thankful that I don't live with scary wankers and went the fuck to my bed (still no access to coke!)