Homeless, Like Kurt, who was deep

I'm in the house watching the Nirvana night on BBC4, or to be honest I've only just turned it on. Right at the point where they're saying that Kurt Cobain used to be homeless. Something I never knew.

I've been homeless myself, but never for long, never more than a few weeks before I found somewhere to stay. If I had to spend a few nights under a bridge or in a park or even in a casualty waiting room (like Cobain did) I always managed to get myself a sofa in someone's house, or crash out in a cupboard at a party.

The first time I spent a night out was during some shitty rioting that happens in Northern Ireland from time to time. I was coming home from a party at a friends house (I was only a teenager at the time by the way) when I heard more noise than I should have heard at that time of night in that area. I turned a corner where I could see a lot better a crowd of angry bastards charging up the street in my direction. That was my cue to turn and run like a mutherfucker, not in the opposite direction, back the way I came (at a right angle to the rioters route). I managed to get to a bridge that I had to cross on my way to school. It was in a remote part of town, and not lit, so I tucked myself under it to sleep. It was stupid for a lot of reasons. It's a bad idea to put yourself in an obscure area far the fuck away from anyone, but since the town was getting fucked up it was the best of nothing but bad options.

It wasn't the last time I slept under a bridge, or that bridge, but I hope that part of my life is over with, unless the economy sends everything to shit again, and in that case there's always cat burgling and crack.

Cowboys Vs Indians

Yesterday was my Fruitarian Brother's birthday party, and like those of you who read this will no I haven't really seen much of them this year (except Wino Jo - who I used to live with.)

He was in good form. He's off the drink now and he seems not to be telling people what to do or how to do it anymore. He asked how Hot Baby Roy was and when I told him that he was seeing Hot Firey Love Lady he laughed his ass off and said that he bet she was an ugly monster and that he knew Hot Baby Roy didn't stand a chance with the Raven Princess Spandex. I told him he didn't stand a chance with Princess Cheetara either, and that the Leotard Girls were annoying as fuck and do nothing but hold big milbag parties that spill out onto the street fighting.

He says that never bothered him because he has a wee rock and roll step that Foosted Wotsit Head showed him. I asked if he'd heard from Foosted Wotsit Head and he shrugged.

My metaller brother was in good form and just talking about work and the new Iron Maiden album. The Hot Shot Banker was missing because he's living in Switzerland now (lucky bastard) and the Fruitarian was there with all his hippy mates.

I bought him a baby apple tree that he can grow and get apples from when he's in a fruitarian mode.

Some of his hippy mates had guitars and they started playing lame hippy stuff that went:

"Bumble bee, don't sting me,
we are friends, make honey."

Repeat until you have forgotten what you were doing before the song started. I hated it but clapped politely. Then ran like fuck.

The Punchbowl Girl is like being totally weird

I've been in work now since nine o'clock. I asked The Punchbowl Girl if she wanted to go to my brother's birthday but she said that she had something on that day, something vague. I asked her if I could have her number because I wanted to send her a text when I was off but couldn't.

She looked a bit awkward and gave it to me. After I keyed it in she said that she had to go back to work and walked off to her desk. She was sitting between two other people so I couldn't even sit with her.

I've been trying to work out what's wrong and here's my options:

1) She reads my blog and doesn't appreciate all our red hot sex life being telegraphed to all the world.

2) She thinks it's a bit soon to be meeting my family. This one if fair enough because we haven't even went on a date yet or agreed we're a couple. We're only colleagues who shag.

3) Typical guy thoughts about girls that I won't put here because I think they're the most unlikely of the three and if 1) is true writing them here will cause no end of shit.

Any thoughts on what it could be? 

I Will Risk Shitting Myself for Love

It's my Fruitarian Brother's birthday this weekend. I'm thinking of having a dead cow dumped on his lawn just to let him know that I'm a meat man.

I've been off work for the past few days because I ate a dodgy kebab the other night and didn't want to risk shiteing myself with rotten diarrhoea in front of everyone especially not The Punchbowl Girl. I'm getting a bit sweet on her and it's not just the sex and it's not the grunge and it's not even that she wants to be the new Betty Blue. I don't know it all seems to come together in the right way.

So yeah, I don't want to shite myself in front of her, not yet anyway but I'm going into work tomorrow, if only to see her, just so I can ask her to The Fruitarian's birthday party. I'm downing a bottle of flat Coke in the morning just to make sure my pants stay clean.

DISCLAIMER: I have not shit myself but it has been close.

"It's My Birthday So You Have To Sleep With Me"

So Hot Baby Roy's been getting all excited and asking me who I'm inviting to his party. I know he thinks the Leotard Girls are top of the list and that he's going to get a "it's my birthday you have to sleep with me" fuck off the Raven Princess Spandex but it's not going to happen. Even before I went next door to invite them I knew they weren't coming.

So I get invited in and The Raven Princess Spandex is saying that she likes Hot Baby Roy but that he hit Rock and Roll Stephen and she thought that was mean, even though it was one of her spidey fucker friends that knocked Rock and Roll Stephen's teeth out. She says she knows but that things are different now and she's been hanging out with him and she likes him and that Hot Baby Roy is in a bad place and blah blah blah. She's into Rock and Roll Stephen and Hot Baby Roy can go and fuck basically. I knew this was going to happen, basically because Rock and Roll Stephen is a good looking guy and Hot Baby Roy isn't. That's not a dig at gingers, he just isn't handsome and doesn't carry himself in a way that makes girls want him.

That basically leaves the list at me, him and Battle Cat.

I asked the Raven Princess Spandex if The Death Owl had shown up again and she said that her and Princess Cheetara had just made it up because Rock and Roll Stephen had told her about how I was scared of the Death Owl and used to fancy the girl that lived here and she had to move away because I was always following her around.

Fuck them.

I Should Never Go To Parties

Last night was the Raven Princess Spandex's birthday party and me and Wino Jo and Hot Baby Roy were all getting ready to go. I came into the livingroom all dragged up in a nice tasteful evening gown and high heels. It's not often I get to wear drag (neither of them are clued up about it) so a fancy dress party is a great occasion for me to mill around in softer fabrics.

Wino Jo and Hot Baby Roy were all pissed off because they thought we should go as The Beastie Boys but I said that no one would get that and they huffed and puffed and said that I was a rare boy in my dress and I told them that they should try it, they did and said that it actually felt nice and that we should all go as girls.

We were all kinkied up and headed round to the party. The door was answered by Princess Cheetara who was dressed up as Supergirl and not Cheetara from the Thundercats as I had hoped.

The Raven Princess Spandex was dressed up as old-skool Catwoman Julie Newmarr. We weren't right in until I noticed Rock and Roll Stephen and the Indie Kid all done up as the Libertines (the jackets were pretty close to the real deal) all set to sing some songs.

It was only after the first one "Ballad of The Smoker" that I twigged who they were singing about. Here's the lyrics:

"The Smoker smokes, but is it tobacco?
Is it for release?
Is it because he thinks he's cool
like my idol Pete Doherteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

They kept giving me smirky looks during the song and The Indie Kid even looked at Princess Cheetara and licked his lips. I was about to wade in with my fists flying when a nice spide (not sure if he was in fancy dress or not) waded into them with:

"What's this shite, are you two fruits?"

then he grabbed the guitar off The Indie Kid and nutted Rock and Roll Stephen in the face. This half stopped the party before it started. I realised that the house was teaming with spides.

Princess Cheetara came over and was laughing away about Rock and Roll Stephen getting nutted. I felt like shit, she's a big millie.

Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo didn't seem to care, but I cared. I watched as they followed the Leotard Girls round the house like sappy puppies, while the Leotard Girls went to great lengths to tell stories that were all about someone getting demeaned and ended with "It was some craic!"

How had I been so blined by beauty and spandex? How?

How Do You Break Things Gently?

Last night was excrutiating. When I got in from work Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo sat me down and told me to be honest about their rendition of the Anfield Rap.

Instead of a backing track they took turns at human beatbox while the other rapped. It was pants, they looked as awkward as any X-factor finalist and wore expressions of "please say this is shit to get me out of doing this".

I didn't want to be the bad guy who spoiled their dreams of being cool fly rappers who get the leotard girls. I also thought that maybe if I let them make dicks out of themselves it might make me look a bit cooler and then I could be sensitive and pull. In the end I had to tell them.

"Listen lads," I said. "I think you need more practise."
"But is it going to work?" Hot Baby Roy asked, he kept rolling his hands waiting for me to elaborate.
"No," I said after a while. "I don't think it will."
They looked crestfallen.
"You know you can both sing," I said. This is half true, Wino Jo can sing, Hot Baby Roy, while not being awful, is only tolerable for one song. "Why don't we get them a Kareoke game or something, then you can both croon at them."
Hot Baby Roy went up to his room and started smashing things. A single salty tear rang down Wino Jo's face and he licked it off and whispered:

"Salty," without looking at me.

I've 100 Followers

I guess that makes me a cult leader a lot like the late but seldom missed Jim Jones. I dunno, all I do know is that Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo are currently in preparation to commit a double suicide next week.

That's because it's The Raven Princess Spandex's birthday next week and the three of us are invited. Or at least Hot Baby Roy was invited (his side of the story). Then when I was leaving the bin out I bumped into Princess Cheetara (who I'm crushing on):

"any ideas yet what the three of you are going as?"

I asked her what she meant and she said

"The party, next week."

I made some excuse about it being morning and me forgetting then she suggested the three muskateers. I was well pissed off with Hot Baby Roy and told him (in a polite way) that Princess Cheetara had said the invitation was for me and Wino Jo too. He looked so disapointed (more when he looked at Wino Jo, who had a big red happy face).

Anyway Liverpool's newest fans are down in the livingroom now working out how they're going to perform The Anfield Rap at the party.



They're arguing now because neither of them want to be Bruce Grobbelaar because apparently his rap is shit. Hint lads: the whole thing is shit and this is going to end badly for yous.

Talking Street Drinking and Missing Cool Partys

Hot Baby Roy left for the party looking cool last night and I sat in with Wino Jo, who was in a wile state thinking he was back on the drink. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I'd beat him up in his sleep.

Hot Baby Roy was spurting all this shite about spandex and making fetish videos with the Leotard Girls once he had one or more of them for a girlfriend. It was not fucking fair. He's going to ruin our chances with them when he lets his drooling hard on do the talking, bastard.

I told him that I wasn't going to save him if some big musclebound lughead beats him up.

He went away saying I'd thank him for it when I saw it working.

Hot Baby Roy heard the loud music coming from next door a bit later and he asked what was happening.

I told him there was a party and we'd been invited if he wanted to go. He said that he'd probably make a dick out of me if he went there and got drunk.

I told him Hot Baby Roy was probably already doing that for me.

I took him for a walk into the city centre because I couldn't hack him sitting round the house in the state he was in. I thought it would make him calm down a bit.

This made him worse, he kept seeing all the tramps and saying "there's where I'll end up."

I the end I stopped outside a pub and told him that I'd go in with him and make sure he didn't drink. I wouldn't drink either.

He was scared to go in but I told him that I'd look after him.

He agreed that he'd go in for a coca-cola.

When we went in there was live music playing and he sat and talked to me about how the music was decent and I told him that he needed to learn to let other people do what they wanted and that it was okay if other people have different tastes.

He said that he had a right to say if things were bad. I told him he did but sometimes you just have to let things go and let other people do whatever is making them happy.

He said that was a fair point and said that he wouldn't stab Hot Baby Roy. We drank our mineral and went home.

He seemed calmer and he went for a walk earlier when Hot Baby Roy stuck on a mucky DVD.

Hot Baby Roy isn't talking about the party but he has a black eye and came home in tears last night. I'll get to the bottom soon enough.

Hot Leotard Muscle Party Time

One of the Leotard Girls came round to the house today, it was the one with the black hair. Hot Baby Roy was out walking Battle Cat. I've seen this pattern before. Fabian Wildman used it go get his feet under the table and I just can't feel bad towards someone who's nice to Battle Cat.

Anyway she asked if we would like to come to a party at their house this weekend. I was very happy but with them being sporty they probably know big beefy muscle men and me and Hot Baby Roy (oh fucking dear) are going to have our work cut out pulling them with the beefy boys in town.

I went upstairs to do some press-ups and found that I could only do five before my arms stopped working, Hot Baby Roy came back to find me lying on the ground sweaty and panting.

He thought I was doing a cool new wank but I told him we need to beef up for the Leotard Girl's party this weekend or we're never going to pull them.

A nice Suprise

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.