Pop Star to Ringo Starr

My time spent sitting on the sofa has turned into convalescence (the last big word Book Boy ever taught me sniff sniff). I've been happed up with a blanket and me and Battle Cat have been watching shit like Pop Star to Opera Star, and trying to work out why Darius Danesh is now called Darius Campbell. I think they should make a show called Pop Star to Ringo Star where failed pop stars have to learn how to play some Ringo tracks on drums, read Thomas The Tank Engine stories and end it all by recording a big "Peace and Love" message saying they were retiring from showbiz.

Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo have been acting weird and Hot Baby Roy isn't spending every night in the house anymore, I think he's going to fuck off and scab off another better off friend.

Wino Jo has been talking about where he's going to go now. I haven't told anyone I'm kicking them out but they both just want to fuck off now the good money is gone. I think I'm going to get Battle Cat to bite them, he's still young but he's big enough to chow down.

How to Make The Tastiest Pancakes

This morning I was coughing up chunks of green stuff. It's all the walking about drunk in the cold, Wino Jo says, he says he's an expert in this stuff. It seems his being back on the drink was a temporary thing as he's not been drunk since that night.

There were streaks of red in the coughed stuff and I'm not sure if it's blood or colouring from the pink champaigne. Either way none of the others in the house seemed too bothered and I just struggled out of bed and made my way to work via the off-licence and custom house square. I'd hoped that some pink champaigne would give me strength to get through the day but I've been sitting shivering in the disabled bogs since I came in.

No fucking pancakes. Book Boy says it's just a commercial holiday and that the marketting ploy that starts every year after Valentines Day is sickening. He was near in tears when he said it but I think that's because he doesn't have a sweetheart or anyone to make him pancakes either.

First One To Leave

Rap Superstar quit today. Not in a big dramatic fuck you to the boss or anything. He'd handed in his notice last week and off he went (after emailing us all a shite rhyming couplet or two to say farewell). He's the first from our training group to go (the ones that made it past training that is - 9 left). Didn't last long.

Me and Little My were talking about it when Kissy Boy told us that there was only him and Book Boy left from their training groups and they'd been there only two months.

Seems turn over is really high in this job, so he says they're unlikely to fire me because they don't like letting people go after training them up, because they find it hard to hold to people anyway. Even if they do get cheap bowling at the Odyssey (company perk).

London Girl is still trying to make me sweat but Kissy Boy says that's just her way, he's had five final warnings but knows he's in with the bricks.

How to Get on the Internet at Work!

I can post at work now because Book Boy showed me a way of getting on blogger. See on Internet Explorer everything like this is blocked but if you use Firefox nothing is blocked. The tech dudes are a bit pish like this. Anyway Firefox is hidden away in some folder so the bosses just don't seem aware it's there. He said to keep it to myself because only a few of us know about it and if the boss finds out shit will fly.

Speaking of the boss, there's a lot of them about and I don't want to dump them all on you at once so I'll talk about my team leader London Girl. London Girl is from London and always bangs on about it, how it's bigger than Belfast and how Belfast closes down at night but London never stops. Little My said if she doesn't like it here she should fuck off back there. Book Boy says this is racist but Little My says it's not because London Girl is white. I think Book Boy has a point though. I think London Girl might be alright outside of work but in work she likes to crack the whip. I think in a past life she might have been a slave driver and maybe that's why she's experiencing racism in this life.

Lemon Bonbons and the Secret of New Moon Cinema

I was in work huffing and stuffing my face with lemon bonbons when Little My asked if she could have one because she thought they tasted so nice.

"Ha! No!" I said shoving four into my mouth at once.

"Why are you being nasty?" she said.

"I didn't start it," I said.

"Tuesday Kid, are you annoyed that you didn't get to go and see New Moon with us?"

"No way," I spat, but a tear rolled down my cheek and gave the game away.

"It is that. We'd have invited you but it was a spur of the moment thing, we were all at the pub after work, and you'd hurried home to see your dog, we all said it was a shame that no one had your number. We even had book boy try to use his big brain to work it out but no luck. Please be friends. If you won't be it's just mean."

"I suppose," I said pushing the bag of lemon bonbons towards her.

"Thanks," she said. "We all thought you seemed a bit hurt yesterday so we'd a wee chat, and keep this a secret, but we're all chipping in when we get our first wage packet to get you a skateboard."

I beemed a big smile and said this was class. I always wanted to be a skateboard dude and I couldn't wait.

I gave her another bonbon and told her to pass them round, among the friends.

New Moon Cinema Extravaganza

So in work today all the rest of the staff (my team anyway) were all talking about how they'd went to see New Moon on Friday. I was the only one who hadn't went. I hadn't been invited. Kissy Boy and Little My were talking all about how it was so romantic and all that. Little My took this to mean she's in with a chance but I have my doubts. Book Boy was saying that I hadn't missed much, he just went to hang out with everyone.

Me too! That's why I'd have went. I haven't even seen Twilight. I was so annoyed I just sat and my desk and kept my mouth shut. I was still raging when I bumped into Hot Baby Roy in the continental market. Both of us were there on the rob (stealing always cheers me up). He said he'd go and see it with me, he'd been looking forward to it and that Dakota Fanning is growing up feisty and nicely.

I don't want my face kicked off so I told him it wasn't missing it that I missed but the companionship.

"Who better than with friends?" he said grinning.

I know he means me and him but he's going to get so arrested one day and I don't want my house searched as a result.

I tried to steal a wicker snowman but it was too hard. I fucked off up the road while Hot Baby Roy was on the Belfast Big Wheel.

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

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."