Dirty Old Men in The Countryside

Not long back in Belfast. The country is a weird place. Full of weird people and strange animals that make strange noises in the night. I found a cool canal path that was something like the Lagan Towpath and wandered out into the countryside with a bag full of beer, I drank them all day and didn't see anything but cows and sheep until I came to a stone wall that I wanted to jump over.

There was a wee old man standing beside it with a grin that looked like he was doing chin stretching exercises. He asked me if I was having a nice day and I said yes and asked him how his day was. He stood and toul me all about how this was his brothers farm but he thinks that his brother stoul it after his father died and he must have tampered with the will because he'd worked these fields while his brother was out hooring and gambling and sure everyone in the country knows he's nothin but a dishonest hoors bastard, no disrespect to his ma, it's just an expression. And that he has to pay to keep his sheep on it but he should let him do it for free because sure the land would go to fuck if he did nathin with it.

I offered him some beer to cheer him up but he said no he said he had something better than beer and pulled out a bottle of poitin and I had a few swallys of it and woke up in the field in the dark wearing no clothes, glad I still had my kidneys, but fearful my hole had been tampered with.

Back to the Bad Old Dole

I slept all day apart from waking up occasionally to boke or cough up nasty green shit (not so much red so yey). Anyway it finally hit home about an hour ago that I'm going to be back on the dole again and it was no fun before. Being on the dole and working shit jobs are really two sides of the same coin, basically having no money and having shitheads hassle you about bollocks. Is there any way out of the cycle?

Sometimes I think I should just quit Belfast and go live in the countryside and all that but it'd probably end up being like one of those bad movies about how the city fella moves to the country and he thinks the culchie folk are dicks and they think he's the dick but they both end up learning that they each know stuff the other doesn't - bollocks. I'd go back on the crack in no time and end up running bollock naked through the mountains killing fish with a homemade bow and arrow.

That or I could go back to live in Larne but that's where old people go to catch arthritis and throw their marbles in the sea. No that's not for me.

Christmas Shopping In Belfast

I tried to do some Christmas shopping today but Belfast was bunged. I headed straight for bargain books. This is where I'd get most of my stuff. I saw a book on true crime which I thought Fabian Wildman would like but then I remembered him saying he was going to stab Ron Weasley for me, so I decided I didn't want anything that might push him in the wrong direction. I know he'll steal anything he gets me but just like the Hermione Granger poster it'll be a good gift. I think he's been dropping hints it'll be pajamas, after my two recent bollock naked incidents. I hope he steals them out of a shop because I don't want to wear something someone might have wanked in.

I bought him a book on dreamology because it might help him understand his nightmares a bit better, even though dreaming about a violent satanist with a knife can really only mean one thing.

I bought Battle Cat a squeaky bone out of a pet store because he's chewed the shit out of the other one and he's started on anything that can look shit with a bite out of it. I bought him a few.

I found a little wooden horse in a knick-knack store and thought about getting it for Hooka, but then I thought it was a bit gay and left it.

Then I went and found Wino Jo and invited him to mine for Christmas day, but he said that our Metaller brother in Larne had already invited him. So I gave him his Christmas Present (a bottle of Black Bush) and wished him a happy Christmas.

Then I went back to the knick-knack shop and bought the little wooden horse for Hooka.

Sticking it to the man Part 1

Our bath is a bit fucked at the minute. It keeps shooting out rust along with the hot water so we can't have a bath. I reported this to the landlord last week and today I had only got out of bed when I heard the door. I rushed down in excitement to answer it, and only realised at the last minute that I was bollock naked.

I threw the door and stood behind it so the plumber could only see my face. Only to find it wasn't the plumber but the TV man.

"Hi our records show you don't have a license at this address," he said.
"We don't have a TV either," I said. Even though we could both hear the Neighbours theme coming from the living room.
The TV man gave me a look of disbelief.
I stood out from behind the door in all my bollock naked glory.
"You can come in and have a look if you want," I offered.
"No you're alright," he said hurrying away up the path.