I Only Want To Party With My Baby

It was Betty Blue's leaving do last night. Me and The Punchbowl Girl showed up nice and early because we weren't going to stay long. The Unicorn Girl and Clarence were there and for once Clarence wasn't being the biggest pishflap there. He actually made himself scarce after he saw me because he knows I'm going to boot him a new arsehole for what he did to Hot Baby Roy.

The Unicorn Girl was making catty shitty remarks to and about The Punchbowl Girl, nothing overt, really dickish shit about her getting fired, said in that kind of I'm nice and friendly but saying shit.

Betty Blue and Kissy Boy took off upstairs to fuck early on in the night so me and The Punchbowl Girl fucked off with our beer and a few bottles of wine that belonged to someone we don't know or care about.

We fucked off home where it we had a better party on our own.

Since the last post it hasn't all been a blur of hot spandex (though that has featured). In other news:

Pearl Jam 10 is the best grunge album (I've learned this after an intensive week of grunge).

There should be a second series of This Is England 86 (there fucking better be).

Will the road works outside Primark ever be complete?

A man can find some great clothes in a charity shop but he needs a woman with him.

Ed Balls has a defective nose.

This website makes me laugh lots and lots.

Tonight Was a Disaster/ Dreams of Spandex are So Very Far Away

So me and The Punchbowl Girl went to this party on Monday night. I was all set to be there acting all cool and saying "this is my girlfriend"/ "have you met my girlfriend"/ "my girlfriend likes that film but I haven't seen it yet" (you get the idea).

On walking in I was surprised to find that I didn't know anyone. It was full of new students at Queens who were out partying for their freshers week. This was great because I could be that guy with a girlfriend (I've had girlfriends before, loads but if you've been following this blog long you'll know I've had a dry run).

Anyway I'm having a good time and The Punchbowl Girl is having a great time and she's telling me this really funny story about getting fired and how she had phoned the work sickline the week before and left a message giving a real sob sob excuse but didn't press the hang up button on her mobile and was dancing around her room singing a song about how she wasn't going to work with a hangover and it was a shit job anyway before she realised it was still recording. Then she left another message saying it was a joke and she'd be in for her shift.

She'd just finished when My Protege walked into the room.

"Tuesday Kid, I haven't seen you in ages, what's the craic?" he said.
I didn't get a chance to answer him before his mate went:

"That's that gay fucker who wears women's swimsuits. He's so gay!"

My Protege elbowed him in the ribs and said, "he's not gay he's a transvestite. What he does in private is his own business."

Then his mate started some rant all about how his da used to wear his mum's clothes and she split up with him because he was a weirdo and he's in jail now.

"You're da's in jail for kicking two blokes fuck in," My Protege said. "That's as macho as you get."

Everyone was staring at me by this stage and probably trying to picture me in the Baywatch outfit. Including The Punchbowl Girl who asked if I did.

I said no and that the only swimsuit I wore was a pair of Speedos. My Protege tried to fix things more by  telling stories about how I'd been a great influence on him and taught him how to be a man. Everyone listening knew fine rightly that the spandex stories were true.

I went to the toilet and thought about how I'm going to find that wee prick down Stranmillis and turn his ass into toast. I went back into the party and told The Punchbowl Girl that I'd a headache and I was going to go home because I've barely drank anything and I'd boked my ring up in the bogs. She knew I was making an excuse but she said she'd text me. She has but I haven't replied yet.

Fuck this.

How to Find a Job Quickly

The Punchbowl Girl was round mine last night and no I'm not going into details, other than to say that I had to find a place to hide my spandex collection because I think it's a bit early days for her to find that out. I think spandex isn't so grunge, more 80s hair metal.

                               Spandex - It's about how it feels.

This morning she had a phonecall from the agency saying that she wasn't to go into work today. I had the day off too so I took her into Belfast to cheer her up.

She says she's lucky because she's going to have enough for this month's rent so she'll have a few weeks to find a new job. She says there's an agency she can get some temp bar work with.

I like her attitude, she sounds like one of those people who can graft when they need to. Something I can't/don't do but I admire it in others.

No Party for Me, I Still Go and Fuck Myself

I didn't go to work today, not because I'm bad, or I'm depressed but because the Leotard Girls had a party last night and kept me awake all fucking night long? On a Tuesday? My day? It was all to entice Hot Baby Roy into their lair of gyrating spandex. He didn't go for it. He wasn't here. I nearly went round in his place to say I'd do but no I couldn't be arsed. It spilled out into the street in the morning and someone called the cops.

I don't know who did and I don't approve on principle but I'm glad they did. I don't have it in me any more to go wielding baseball bats at tramps.

I called in sick and slept til it was too hot and I was stuck to the bedsheets with my sweat (this is supposed to sound sexy - I've just realised it doesn't).

How To Feel Sexy In Public For Transvestites

Today it feels like spring and it just doesn't seem so desolate walking about Belfast. I took Battle Cat for a walk and I'd my best new togs on (I figured since I've been fired I mightened be able to afford anything decent for a while) and I was getting smiles and hellos from many a lovely lady even though I've big puffy eyes from all the boozing I've been doing. I figured since I've nothing against getting into the old drag from time to time I shouldn't have anything against using moisturiser, especially since I dehydrate myself with pink champaigne on a pretty much daily basis.

Sexy Carlos and his gang were grinding it up in the Botanic Gardens in acceptable spandex, I might do the same. I think all male joggers are just men who want to wear their spandex in public. They have every right to do so, and I might join them, although I'm not sure you can get leopard print men's joggers. Could take the sewing machine to a leotard, I suppose.

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?

That's Bad Crack

So I got my pay and headed straight up to get some crack but my old crack dealer isn't there any more, probably busted. I deleted all my numbers when I gave it up. Fuck that. Hot Baby Roy might have some numbers on his phone so I fucked off to the house to see if I could get hold of his phone.

I bought a bottle of gin on the way and was pure pished by the time I reached the house. The Raven Princess Spandex came to the door and I started babbling away about how hot she was and I was sorry if Hot Baby Roy had tried to steal one of her leotards. And just as I started to catch on she'd been looking puzzled for ages I shut up.

"Hot Baby Roy was great, some guys showed up and started trashing the place and he stopped them. I just wanted to give him this," she put a present in my hand and I didn't know what to say, so I boked all over myself.

"I hope none of that hit you," I said to her as I slid down the wall.

The Raven Princess Spandex is so hot, and now I've no chance. I've been so embarrased I've been up in my room sobbing and swaying gently, I still hope I can fix this.

Who needs to lick the bowl?

Nanny Boo Boo and Me have a Talk

Nanny Boo Boo asked me to call down to hers after work today. She had a cup of tea and nice buns all laid out when I came in.

She said that My Protege had been round balling his wee eyes out about how I was a big puff and sitting in front of the TV drunk in women's clothes and she hit him a clash round the face and told him to mind his own fucking business.

I knew Nanny Boo Boo would be cool about it even though some older fuckers can be right squares about that sort of thing. She said whatever I did was cool and that it was my own business and she could get me some nice tasty stuff or even kinky negligees out of her club book if I fancied it. I said thanks but I thought that might become awkward if I couldn't keep up the payments.

She said that My Protege was a wee wanker but that's just because of the age of him and she hasn't forgotten about what he did to the cats arses with bangers and she told him that if it wasn't for me My Protege would be selling his arse on the streets for freedbased cocaine and soda pop, and no one would touch the spotty wee bastard. She told him so, but she said that if he came around to my tranny ways then he'd be a successful man when he grows up.

This made me happy. Then she asked me if I'd a girl name for when I wore my clothes. I said Lily but this is balls. I don't go in for that shit. I'm just a man in tight spandex.

The Leader of The Razorlight Fan Club Falls

The Banshee moved in next door today with Derek Baby so Fabian Wildman's pissed off about not being able to move there. He'd been brushing up on his sweaty metal moves and he was looking forward to comparing spandex with Derek Baby and now it's all gone to shit.

He was fumming about the house so I decided to get out and clear my head. I ran into Rock and Roll Stephen who was in a wile state. He said that his girlfriend had left him for some other dickhead who had skinnier jeans and looked more like Johnny Borrell.

"It's not a mark of a man who has the tightest jeans, she must be immature," I offered by way of consolation.

"Nobody's jeans are tighter than mine," he screamed. "I sit in the bath for hours to get them this tight, I'm going to get pains when I'm old."

He started blubbing and saying that he hated wearing tight jeans, he has all these infected ingrowing hairs on his legs and he can't walk properly anymore.

I offered to take him for a beer to cheer him up but he winced and looked even more panicked.

"I can't be seen with you," he screamed. "You're not cool, I need to be seen with someone who's cool to get her back."

I told him it wasn't going to happen. He was now on a long slow slide into uncoolness. The fact that he was using the word cool showed this. He'd be saying "groovy" next and meaning it, and wearing clothes for their comfort.

He fell on his knees and begged me to tell him this wasn't true but I said what he was doing only further showed this was the case.

"You know I used to hang about with you for cool points," I lied to him. "But not now, not now."

I walked away shaking my head while he lay on the street crying his wee indie heart out.

A Long Fucking Day

Yesterday was a weird one. Firstly it was my fruitarian brother's birthday. I haven't heard anything from any of them since my "intervention" so I didn't really know what to do. In the end I sent him a text and I got one back saying some balls about how he's thinking of going off meat again. I'll look forward to missing this intervention.

Secondly one of the sweaty metallers moved out. There was loads of shouting about how the other was "a spandex licking mutherfucker" mutherfucker was emphasised in that way that metallers sometimes do when they're wanting to get extra metal about something.

Fabian's thinking he might move in there. I think he should just stay here. The cops haven't been round in ages.

I asked him why didn't bring round Sandcastles and The Unicorn Girl again. He said that they'd been scared off by Hot Baby Roy and especially Clarence. Clarence told the Unicorn Girl that he liked to get drunk at the weekends and slap the fuck out of indie kids. Me and good king thumpo did this once but I didn't say. Fabian saw I looked upset but he didn't know why. He said he was seeing them again tonight and he'd say to them about maybe calling round again.

After he left Hot Baby Roy called round in tears saying that he couldn't find his Bratz DVD, he'd left it here but I was so pissed off I told him I hadn't seen it. He said he was going to bring round Wild Child someday soon because there was a hot dance routine in it, he saw I wasn't impressed so he added, "and there's stuff about emotions and friendship in it too."

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.

The Coolest Crackhead in Belfast

Hooka and Fat Rab went on holiday today. I don't know how since both of them are on the dole. Anyways, Hooka came round to ask if I'd look after Gobbolino. I said yes, like the sappy bastard I am.

Anyways I thought I'd let Gobbolino and Battle Cat play but I had to watch them because Gobbolino is still very tiny, and he could fit easily in Battle Cat's mouth, but Battle Cat was nice and they had lots of fun.

Fabian has started being twitchy and it's starting to do my nut. He gave me his knife to look after at the start of the week but that hasn't stopped him being a scary bastard. I watched him this morning have a conversation with himself in the mirror about how he was the coolest. He went on to list all the things that made him the coolest including rollerblading and shoplifting. I didn't know he rollerbladed. It kind of explains his love of spandex.

I got so stressed out about looking after him and the animals and the thought of Hooka and Fat Rab in some fancy hotel together (probably more like some shit B and B in Portrush) that I went and pissed through their letter box. That'll be nice for them to come back to.

I went in the house and told Fabian Wildman about it and he says milk would have been better because it smells worse than piss after it soaks in.

I went round later and poured a bottle of milk in. Fuck them.

Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself

Welcome to Party Down and Go Fuck Yourself. It's a story of love, life and licking the bowl. If you're interested in crack addiction, satanism, shoplifting, heavy metal, tight spandex, Hermione Granger, smoking hot guitar solos, call centres, millies and spides, pink champagne, cross dressing, the lessons of the street, big violent dogs, cute puppies, boiled eggs, oral sex, indie music, the Lagan Meadows, Belfast, Northern Ireland, Northern Ireland's tallest building (The Obel Tower) or the possibility that Sammy Wilson MP is actually a shapeshifting demon then there's something in here for you.

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