Fabian Faces Facts!

Thank fuck, we've finally got some rain to get rid of this pish heat. I've been sleeping in the nip at night and Fabian Wildman has been slithering about in his zentai screaming that it's all too much. The zentai wearing has lasted for a bit longer than usual but I think he's just having one last fling because his next flatmate might not be so understanding about it.

He emerged from his cocoon (his analogy - not mine) this morning looking malnourished but surprisingly more clean asking if he could have some toast.

I told him to help himself and he stormed off in a huff. I don't know what's up with him. Betty Blue called round to see him later and they spent a long time up in his room listening to Michael Jackson records and I'm sure I heard him wailing at one point. Poor Fabian, I didn't know he was such a fan. Jacko was never really here nor there with me. I think the press were ballbags to him but really it's none of my business.

Betty Blue came out to get some tissues for him and a glass of water because he was nearly dehydrated. I asked her if she was a Jacko fan. She said not really, when she was a wee girl her favourite song was Martine McCutcheon's Perfect Moment but that it wasn't really that good. It was just because she thought it was like Martine's character Tiffany from Eastenders' perfect moment, not Martine's.

Not So Happy Birthday for Fabian Wildman

Today was Fabian Wildman's birthday so I bought him a cake. I'm skint on the dole so it was a nice big 99p cake from the Spar. Fabian didn't mind because he's in the zentai stage of crack withdrawl. He's jittering about the place skatting morning, noon and night,

scoodley boo scoodley boo scoodley scoodley da da toe toe scooby wooby wooby wooby just hit me now wooby wooby doo doo doo pa pa pa pa de de de de boom

is all you hear from him.

He skats for a bit then he bursts into tears and screams about wanting to see his face. I don't know who's face he means, he's started talking long into the night (between skats) with someone called Boom Fizzle. Boom Fizzle owes him money and won't give it to him. It's something to do with some robbery they've both committed that went horribly wrong. Fabian Wildman wants Boom Fizzle to armwrestle for it. These conversations always end with Fabian Wildman bouncing off the walls in his room. I run in to see what's wrong and Fabian Wildman shouts:

"That mutherfucker Boom Fizzle attacked me, he'll hurt my children, stop him please."

That's when the screaming and crying starts but five minutes later he's back skatting and shaking like a crackhead.

Anyways, he got the cake and said:

"Thanks for this but I'm not sharing it with anyone but Boom Fizzle," then he went to walk upstairs and walked into a wall and squashed the cake against his chest. The whole fucking thing fell on the floor and the only one who got any way Battle Cat.

Fabian Wildman told me I could lick some cream off his chest if I wanted. I told him no and he said that "Boom Fizzle will jump at the chance."

Then the doorbell went. I thought it might be Hot Baby Roy coming to wish him well so I answered it.

It was the peelers again looking for Fabian Wildman. There he was standing covered in cream and in a Zentai. I just said, "no one's here but me and my sweet Boom Fizzle," (this is actually a lie but it sounds cooler than what I did say so fuck it, poetic licence).

The peeler fucked off them and Fabian slithered up the stairs covering them in cream.

Fabian is coming off crack again

I've been lying round the house, thinking of getting the old leotard back on, Fabian Wildman has bee rolling around in his zentai all day because he ran out of crack. He melted the front of one yesterday because he was sliding so much around the house, there's a big bit of melted carpet in the hall.

He keeps saying all this mad shit about how "Al Pacino is coming back, back through the flames" he flickers his tongue when he says flame. I wish he'd fuck up because it was funny for five minutes, now it's just creeping me out. He keeps breaking Al Pacino's name down and just parts of it. He just let a gigantic howl out of him and I thought something was wrong but when I went to see what it was he was just doing the crab and giggling all gleeful like a dog who's licked its own balls.

Johnny Davro and Peace Man come to a Jam

Today I was jamming with the sweaty metallers. It was wild, I was screaming at the top of my lungs. It was a new song and there were no lyrics yet so I just kept screaming about Satan! and Sex!

Johnny Davro and Peace Man were there, they are the coolest dudes in the city and they make the scene. If they go to a gig and stay for longer than one beer then whatever band are onstage have made it in Belfast.

In the middle of the jam Johnny Davro got up and started dancing all slow and metaphorically. Peace Man sat clicking his fingers. The sweaty metallers stood there nodding proudly between each other. Then when the song ended Johnny Davro asked me if I'd ever heard of Rimbaud? I thought he said Rambo so I nodded excitedly. He smiled a knowing smile and said:

"I thought I heard some of his influences in there."

After he left, the sweaty metallers said that he must like me because he said more to me today that he's said to members of his own family in his entire life.

I felt so cool I skipped next door and told Fabian Wildman, he was too busy slithering around the floor in his Zentai screaming:

"Mummy let me lick the bowl!"

I know how he feels. I love to lick the bowl.

Congratulations Fabian Wildman

Fabian Wildman found out today that he's got the job he applied for, pretty cool. We had a celebratory bottle of Vodka last night and he bought Battle Cat some dog treats. He made me promise not to say the name of the shop on here, so I won't. He also said if anyone works out who he is from this blog he'll let you away with shoplifting (to be honest I think he'll let you away anyway, so go for it).

Betty Blue and Hot Baby Roy came round and we had a right oul knees up. Well done Fabian. I bought him a new Zentai to celebrate, but it was really an excuse to get myself another leotard - leopard skin this time. Yeah!

Pancake Day

I woke up this morning in a leotard. I cried for hours. How could that rotten bastard have done this to me in my sleep. My knife was still there so I suppose he could have done worse, besides once I got over the affront of it all it was quite comfortable.

"Nobody spark up a fag!" I heard Fabian shout from downstairs.

I ran down to find him opening the windows.

"We left the gas on last night," he said.

Then he said he saw I was still wearing my leotard. I told him someone put it on me in the middle of the night. He told me I put it on before I went to the 24 hour garage. I told him that was balls and that I'd remember that. He said that I might have put some clothes on over it but that I was definitely wearing it. I told him there was someone hiding in the roofspace. He told me he used to sleep in people's roofspaces. He once got locked in for a few days, and that there were all these weird sex dungeon devices and costumes, that's where he got his zentai. He was glad to see that I was into spandex fetishwear because he always worried that he was creeping me out when he did it. He said it was a far superior fabric to leather unless you're wanting to roll down the motorway at 70mph on your hands and knees (which he didn't).

Anyway I went and got dressed and once we were sure it was safe to turn the cooker on we had some scrumptious pancakes. Oh yeah, we rock.

Accidentally Kelly Street

After sorting stuff out with Indie Kid I started thinking about sorting things out with the rest of the street: Fat Rab and Hooka, that would take a while and is best left alone for now, Mr Spoon, I was going to have to think about that; for all his huffing and puffing and moralising and all that crap he just wants to think he lives somewhere nice where (nomatter what people do in their home) that sort of stuff doesn't happen on the streets.

I know he likes to make weird wines so I went to the veg shop on the Lisburn Road and bought him loads of beetroot and ginger and an aubergine.

I went round his house and knocked his door but no-one answered. It didn't sound like he was in. I went to the shop and bought a notepad and a pen and wrote him a wee note:

"I hope you can make some of your nice wine with this lot. I liked the bottle you gave me last summer Christmas."

Then I left it at his front door in a bag.

I was about to go in the house when I heard this Rolling Stones song playing loudly from the living room:



I looked through the window to see Fabian Wildman slithering about in his zentai giving it his best Jagger moves.

He was shouting: "Betty Blue! Whip my ass! Aren't you hypnotised by my ass!"

I didn't look any more to see her. I decided to leave them to it. Fabian more than deserved the house to him and Betty Blue for the rest of the day. So I went round the back and got Battle Cat and me and him went off to the Lagan Meadows for a nice big long walk.

The Obel Tower (to begin with)

After I'd a good smoke of crack I took Battle Cat for a walk. I decided to take him somewhere other than the Lagan Meadows so we went down along the front of the Lagan to where they're building that big Obel tower which will fall over a few years later because no one will want to live in it and they'll turn it into a bail hostel and all the crims will be swinging from floor to floor like monkeys pushing dope and trading dirty playing cards for pick axes and making a right old fucking mess of the place smashing their enemies skulls into the walls and pissing away the blood stains. They won't even notice when it starts to crumble and every so often the building will seem slightly smaller but the chaos will reign. I hope it happens sooner rather than later. It'd be nice to have a few yuppies in there first, all sitting cowering and ringing the peelers night and day and getting told they can fuck off (not in so many words, the cops are way too polite, at least until they get you in the cells).

I stood and told Battle Cat about this and he looked excitedly at me, I don't like that he seems so eager to be a criminal. The best kinds of criminals are the ones who don't feel that it's a choice.

Anyways when we got home there was a loud banging noise upstairs. I went up to find Fabian Wildman in my room in his zentai running and throwing himself at my Hermione poster to splat spread eagled into it. Then he'd slide down the wall with a blissful sigh and say "she's magic."

It looked really fucked up but I gave it a go (minus the Zentai of course) and it felt really good (if a little painful) but believe you me I was screaming with delight. Poor Gobbolino and Battle Cat just sat at the edge of the room watching us bemused. I'm sure I saw them shake their heads, but they shouldn't judge. Courting is a lot simpler for animals.

Coming off Crack

Me and Fabian Wildman smoked all our crack with Betty Blue on Friday and as bad luck would have it couldn't get any yesterday. I went round a few dealers today but still couldn't get any. So I bought some cough medicine on the way home.

I came home to find Fabian Wildman smeared across the wall in his Zentai muttering and screaming about how "tongues fly" and "my body slides" and hissing like a snake.

I told him to cut it out or he wasn't getting any cough syrup. I don't like the idea of him all sketchy tonight with Battle Cat. If he scares the pup with his knife I'll kick him out, and I really don't want to do that because I'm actually liking having him around. He doesn't pay any bills but he buys most of the crack, he's tidy and he helps out with Battle Cat. Most of all I like him around because he's good company. He doesn't follow me around, he does his own thing a lot and when we do hang out he always has something interesting to say. Of course when he's coming off crack it's a different matter.

"Let'ssss kill the ssssssatanisssssst," he hissed as he slid slowly down the wall and slithered across the floor to get some cough syrup. "I'll sssssssssstab the Fab Rab mutherfucker."

"No, no killing, I want to get that fucker a different way," I said passing him the bottle.

I'm going to let Battle Cat stay up in my room tonight. He's started catching on that the newspapers are for shitting on, so hopefully I won't have a big mess to clean up tomorrow. If he shits on my carpet I'm dragging it into the alley and setting fire to it.

As for Fabian I only hope I can get my hands on some crack tomorrow.

Hot Baby Roy called round again today. I was surprised to see him standing at the door wearing a pair of jeans and a bomber jacket. He also didn't have the afro. His real hair is ginger though so it was nice that something was still the same about him.

Fabian Wildman wasn't in but I invited Hot Baby Roy in for a smoke anyway.

We talked about stuff for a bit and I was a bit thrown that he wasn't going over any of his 'hot baby' stuff from yesterday.

"What happened your hair?" I asked him.
"What? Oh the afro? that was just a wig," he giggled. "I was going to a fancy dress party."
Of course he was. How stupid I was to think those were his real clothes? This is a sure sign that I should get off crack.

Hot Baby Roy left after a while and a few hours later Fabian Wildman came back. I told him that Hot Baby Roy called. He didn't seem too upset, but maybe that's because he'd nabbed an old record called Japanese Boy. It sounded weird and a wee bit more recent than he usually plays but he said it's a great song for when he's feeling intense. He played it and played it and I kept getting mental images of him when he's got no crack listening to it and dancing around the room in his zentai with his knife. It was weirding me out so I went to bed. I kept trying to work out if the song was a wee bit racist or not but that was weirding me out even more so I tried to sleep through the sound of it coming from the living room below.



Aneka - Japanese Boy