So I was in a music video

So I was in a music video. I'm in around 2:48. Blink and you'll miss me. I'm there, or I was, you'll know what I mean when you see it.

Take it away, BeeMickSee:



Wasn't I great?

That's all folks!

Yesterday was my birthday and it started me thinking about it being time to wind the blog down. I've a lot going on in my life at the mo and the blog isn't so easy to keep up.

I've been at it two years now and it's been great. I've went from being a sad crack head who was secretly the coolest dude in town to everyone knowing just how mutherfucking cool I can rock. I've played electric rock and roll guitar solos, talked to daemons and kissed lots of sexy girls.

I've enjoyed massive support from the rest of the blogging community, particularly the Northern Irish blogging community. I'm not saying this is it for good but for now that's me.

Thanks for reading, I might post on here from time to time so it's not a total goodbye but if you do want some other good blogs to read in the meantime there's plenty listed down the side there.

On My Own Again

So last night the Punchbowl Girl sits me down and says she wants to talk about us.

This sounds bad but instead of bursting into tears and screaming "no this isn't fair," I say. "Sure what's up."

She says that we've been having a lot of fun and she wants to know if I'm just hanging out with her or if I'd like her to be my girlfriend.

I tell her that I thought it was a given we were boyfriend and girlfriend especially after the whole spandex thing and she says no.

Then I say that I'd like her to be my girlfriend very much.

Then we kiss and it's all looking like it's going to be a happy ending until she tells me that she's off tomorrow for a week long holiday with her family.

Then I burst into tears (I don't really but it's funny because it refers to me doing something I thought I was going to do earlier but didn't do). I huffed a wee bit because the truth is I'm going to miss her while she's away.

I'm turning into a sappy boy. Oh dear.

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.

When I went to kick everyone's ass I didn't leave the house

So I tried to get Hot Baby Roy to clean himself up a bit before he took me round to where Mother of Bowling Ball lived. He was saying no no, and that he didn't want to make things any worse. I asked him how it could be any worse. He's been beat up and dumped.

He said that both Clarence and Mother of Bowling Ball were at Hot Firey Love Lady's house waiting for me to show up. So they could break my bones.

I asked him what the fuck had happened.

He said that him and Hot Firey Love Lady were just chilling out when Mother of Bowling Ball and Clarence Pishflap came in. Clarence Pishflap was making dicky remarks about him and how he was a pervert with a suspect film collection. He told Clarence to fuck off or he'd be sorry. Then Mother of Bowling Ball laughed and told him that he should sit and take his slagging because he was in no position to act the hard man. He knew because he'd had a fight with him and sometimes still laughs about how easy it was to win.

Hot Baby Roy jumped up and told him that he wasn't going to be laughing about this. Then he tried some of his Karate from a book that he'd been learning. And when he shouted key-eye! Mother of Bowling Ball blocked his punch and nutted him in the face. Then him and Clarence started laying in the digs. Hot Firey Love Lady split the whole thing up and told Mother of Bowling Ball she'd get him kicked out this time but Mother of Bowling Ball said that he was just defending himself.

Hot Firey Love Lady asked Hot Baby Roy to leave because she didn't think he was into violence but she's not sure she can look at him in the same way again after what he did, or tried to do.

I told him that me and him were going to break some legs. I could take both Mother of Bowling Ball and Clarence Pishflap out with brow slaps but he started crying even more and telling me that I'd ruin his chances of getting back with Hot Firey Love Lady if I did. I told him that it didn't even sound like he was definately dumped.

This really puzzled hopeful look came across his face and I told him that I wouldn't go round there now as long as he gave me the address and was okay about me breaking Mother of Bowling Ball's legs at a later date.

He said he'd like that.

I also asked if I could teach him how to fight because Karate from a book works only in the book.

He said he'd like that too.

Then I bought us some beers and we talked long into the night about the kicking I was going to teach him to give Clarence Pishflap but Mother of Bowling Ball was going to be mine.

Not Planning On Quitting, Still...

I can tell my updates are going to get more and more sporadic. Not just because I'm now in a relationship but also because there's isn't so much funny/strange/violent stuff happening now, or at least stuff I want to be more than an in-joke between me and The Punchbowl Girl.

The spandex is for now hidden in the roofspace, my enemies are out of reach for the time being or licking their wounds, and even Hot Baby Roy has been calmed by his other, better half.

Don't despair I've no intentions to stop, it just might happen gradually after this.

How Do You Meet Justin Bieber

I told Hot Baby Roy yesterday about my meeting with Clarence Pishflap. He said that Hot Firey Love Lady's met Clarence already and thinks he's a pishflap. He'd been round her house because he knows Mother of Bowling Ball.

I suppose it makes sense because I keep forgetting how everyone in Belfast knows everyone else. The only reason I met Mother of Bowling Ball is because he was at a party with Betty Blue's mates. And Clarence hangs around with The Unicorn Girl, and Betty Blue said he used to go out with Sandcastles.

Hot Baby Roy laughed his hole off when I said this. He said their relationship was little more than a horny girl fed up with frozen cucumbers. He had shagged her a few times and told her he wanted a relationship. Sandcastles couldn't be arsed with his whining so she said yes but then one time Clarence took him round to her house it was awkward as fuck. They barely spoke for over an hour. Then Clarence went to the toilet and she started asking him if he liked her legs. He said that he didn't want to insult her so he said yes. Then she told him that he could rub them if he wanted, and to hang around after Clarence left. Hot Baby Roy thought he was going to get his hole but Clarence had been on the other side of the door listening to the whole thing. He burst in all Hercule Poirot. Aha!

And that's why they're not friends anymore.

I asked him how he met Clarence. He said he'd thrown a party at his a few years ago when he lived with his parents. He invited a load of people he didn't really know because the object of the party was for him to make new buddies. He was having a wild time when the party started swinging but because of all the booze he'd drank he needed to have a big pish. So when he went to drain cyclops in the bog he heard funny noises coming from his parent's room.

He went in and found Clarence rummaging through his mum's underwear drawer. He turned around all startled.

"I'm not wanking," Clarence shouted.

Then they became friends.

People You Meet When It's Raining

The Punchbowl Girl was working yesterday so I was all on my lonesome. I went for a walk but it was pissing down so I stopped in at The Empire for a beer. I was just sitting supping away and flicking through The Suicide Diaries for something to laugh at/read to my girlfriend.

When Clarence Pishflap wandered over with his Taboo and lemonade.

"So Tuesday Kid, I hear you've finally got your hole."
"How dare you speak about my lady like that?" I asked.
"How dare I? How dare I? Listen I'm going to fuck things up for you with her. Just like you fucked things up for me with The Unicorn Girl, you and that ginger halfwit dicking around talking shit and acting up so I could never make my move and now we're in the fucking "friends zone"."
"Hot Baby Roy has a girlfriend too now."
"Don't think I don't know it. I'll fuck it up for the pair of you. I'll tell those dolls all about your crack addiction, and your cross dressing and your rotten pish drinking ways."
"I never drank any pish, and as for The Unicorn Girl, that was your move to make. If you wanted to fanny around like a sappy bastard and fucked it up for yourself that's your own fault. She's a nice girl, you should take being friends."
"You rotten bastard..."

I didn't let him finish. I threw the arse end of my beer at his crotch soaking it. Now he had to leave or face everyone thinking he'd pished himself in the midst of all his excited ranting.

I bought another drink and finished it in peace.

She said ___________

I'm feeling so cool that I nearly bust my spine trying to do a back flip. Luckily I did it on the sofa or Battle Cat would have to do a Lassie right now. (Hot Baby Roy is away out with Hot Firey Love Lady).

                             I'm glad I didn't need this touchy feely mutt

The Punchbowl Girl said yes! I'm now taking her out on a hot date tomorrow to (unnamed venue)! Yeo! I took Battle Cat for a big long walk and told him all about it. He woofed away, I think he's happy for me.

It's a Tuesday Kid kinda day!

Wandering around the Lagan Meadows catching up on my thoughts

I spend my weekends recharging. It's not unusual to see me take off early on a Saturday morning with Battle Cat and a bottle of pink champaigne. I walk for hours, even in the heat. I'm burnt after the weekend, pure balls.

I thought about calling up The Punchbowl Girl but I just needed to recharge. I think I'm what they call an introvert. A few hours blethering away to Battle Cat makes me feel all gangsta again. I sometimes think he gets what I'm saying. Or at least he knows what some of the words mean in doggy speak.

                                      "Woof," said Battle Cat.

I told him all about the Punchbowl Girl and about Fabian Wildman. Battle Cat let a woof out of him. I think he missed Fabian after he moved out and he was glad to see him the other morning.

Fabian left while I was at work and didn't steal anything (I think he stole a big block of cheese but I'll not quibble about that). He sent me a text asking if I wanted to hang out down Nanny Boo Boo's. I haven't replied, and part of me thinks I should because if he's coming off crack then I feel like I should help him out.

He was saying stuff about Betty Blue but I don't think he's sorted out enough to be trying to get her back, not when she's long ago moved on and is with smooth talking Kissy Boy. She's going back to university soon anyway.

I think I need to move on too.

In and Around Nordirland.

I'm hiding out in the countryside (in the North still) and the only way you'll find me is if you follow the trail of duderay stickers.

Hot Baby Roy and Hot Firey Love Lady are looking after Battle Cat.  Hot Firey Love Lady is really excited about it so much so that I'm really starting to come round to her. I think Hot Baby Roy has landed on his feet with her so lucky bastard.

Anyway me, my laptop and a big bottle of whiskey are deep in the Irish countryside.

Happy Twelfth for those who care, even happier one for those who don't.

The Suicide Diaries

The Indie Kid came to my house this morning. He was lucky to catch me because I didn't have to be in until twelve. He had on his best Pete Doherty kit and an acoustic guitar by his side. He tipped his hat and said:

"Mr. Tuesday Kid, I'd sure appreciate it if you'd take my moleskin jotter and keep my dreams alive somehow."

The wee skittery notebook had "The Suicide Diaries" scrawled across the front of them in tippex.

"Are you going to top yourself?" I asked him.

"Naw, it's just poems about my life, and sure isn't life just suicide in slow motion?"

"Not really, no, why are you giving them to me?"

"I have to go back to live on my dad's farm now Uni of over, and I always thought there'd be some wee lassie I could give my poems to and say there's one in there about you but thon never happened and so I have to go back to milking coos and all that shite. Wee ladies down round Banbridge aren't really into poetry."

"What do they like?"

"Fighting and calling folk cunts," he said. By the look of him I'd say he isn't too hopeful about his ability to do either.

"I'll keep your songs alive," I said. "When I'm drunk down by the Lagan I'll sing them to the wind."

He pulled this face like I'd just said something wanky but I only did it to give him an indie kid moment. He sauntered off with a tip of the hat whistling an old Libertines tune.

I flicked through "The Suicide Diaries" there's not one thing I like, even all the stuff about the smoker. I'll put a few of them down here from time to time, but I haven't picked out which one makes me laugh the most yet.

Lets Play Pinball

Hot Baby Roy hasn't been here all week so I called him to ask where he was. He said that he was in Donegal with Hot Firey Love Lady. I told him I was happy for him but that this call was costing me da bomb (I think that's the right context to say that, isn't it?).

I'm jealous as fuck of him and gingerella swanning around being all cool and luved up and me just lonely and playing pinball in my tightest spandex. Sometimes I think I'll go coco bongo and walk out into the middle of the street wielding a baseball bat and singing "I'm Tuesday Kid and I am funky," as I batter civilians at first, and cops as they try to play the heroes. Something is holding me back though and I'm not sure what it is. It's something to do with Battle Cat, something about how I was sure I'd bought a big violent dog (in the making) but he ended up a big cuddly friend of a dog. I hope it's my influence. I hope I'm holding back because I'd end up shouting for a bit and make it obvious that I'm unhappy. I want my parties back, I want a big bag of crack. Wages are in, maybe I'll call up Zim Van Bindle and see if he wants to watch the sweat drip from my balls.

A Good Job Interview

I went to my job interview today. It was strangely uneventful. The guy interviewing me was pretty nice. He offered me a tea or a coffee at the start and when it turned out the coffee pot was empty he took me up to the canteen to get one.

The call centre seems chilled out enough. He said that they expect you to get your targets but if you're coming close then they don't mind you having a bit of craic with each other.

I've heard this talk before so I'm not swallowing it yet. I will say that I'm not doing outbound sales again so already it seems a better deal.

I'll find out if I have it tomorrow. Cross your fingers please.

Hot Baby Roy is still off at Gingerella's. It gives me space to wear my drag but it can get a bit lonely. Battle Cat is a great listener but a shit conversationalist.

Cross Dressing Cheers Me Up

So Hot Baby Roy is off to Gingerella's (I assume) so they can make a lovely love next there for a few days. They bought some food for their lovers breakfast while I was asleep and when I got up they had a wee note on the fridge saying help myself. I'd have helped myself anyway. Nice stuff, cinnamon and raisin bagels and cream cheese.

Battle Cat was all licking his lips so I gave him one too. Then with the house to myself I pulled on some tights and a leotard and watched crap daytime TV. The Girl That Stole The Eiffel Tower was talking on Facebook about buying velvet leggings. I'd like to know where to buy a velvet catsuit I'd get some serious carpet burn out of that thing. It'd be so worth it.

Then while I was all writhing around my phone went. An agency I registered with ages ago has me lined up for a job interview for tomorrow. It's in a shitty call centre and I remember how bad I got last time I was in one of those places but it's better than being lonely and skint. At least in there I'll meet people I can either have a laugh with or at and it'll get me money for my velvet catsuit.

Another Missing Person

Hot Baby Roy is no longer missing. He sent me a jokey text yesterday after I sent him one saying if you haven't replied in an hour I'm reporting you missing.

It was all "Calm Down Tuesday Kid. I've been too busy with my bonnie lass for texting friends!"

Fuck him. I was so worried. I sat up the night before sniffing felt tips and spooning coffee into myself because I didn't know what to do.

I haven't heard anything more from him but I think I suspect his bonnie lass is that ganger wonder I saw him with at Lavery's. He might not be missing any more but I am. I can't find the Tuesday Kid who used to feel like he knew what was going on. I need a fucking job.

I hope this ganger girl has non ganger friends.

Not So Happy Birthday Hot Baby Roy

Yesterday was Hot Baby Roy's party. He was so excited and I'd been sitting with my fingers crossed that someone was going to show. I'd managed to get a crisis loan off the dole and I bought him a Mr T keyring and a Hollyoaks Girls calender that had been reduced to 50p because it was half defunct.

Hot Baby Roy was all talking about the presents he was going to get and about how he'd put a note through the leotard girls' letterbox saying they were very welcome but Rock and Roll Stephen wasn't.

I sat watching the clock crossing my fingers so tight I left big purple tracks in them. A few taxis pulled up in the street and I thought it was going to get a bit easier but the people who got out went next door. I couldn't believe the leotard girls were throwing a party on the same night like they were trying to say fuck you to Hot Baby Roy. The longer we sat the more people went next door and no one came near us. Then at about half nine. Hot Baby Roy started to drink the bottle of vodka Nanny Boo Boo sent, and then he started to cry.

"Nobody came," he kept saying. And he started hugging Battle Cat and crying even more. "I want friends," he said.

I felt bad for him. Nobody came, not even just to pop in and say happy birthday. He didn't even get a text. He started to say that he thought moving in with me was going to be the start of him having a social life and that when he started to make friends with the leotard girls he thought maybe he'd get a girlfriend but now it was his birthday he saw that people just were having a laugh at him and he was going to go next door with a baseball bat and show mutherfuckers what time it was.

I tried to talk to him to calm him down, I told him that me and him should go out for the night, that I was his friend and that I wanted him to have a happy birthday.

He was a sorry mess by the time we hit the city. He was plastered and boked a few times on our way there. I don't know how we managed to get in anywhere.

We ended up in Lavery's back bar swinging and dancing like wild apes. No one wanted to kiss or cuddle us and we ended up sitting down for most of the night. I bought Hot Baby Roy a few pints and he fell asleep. I walked about looking for someone to talk to and ended up boking in the bogs for a wee bit. Then when I came back to him he was away. I looked for him and found him sitting talking to another wee ginger girl. She and him had twisted up faces like they were commiserating each other on not having things a bit more like they'd like them.

I left him to it, hoping that he'd pull her. He's still in bed, that or he didn't come home. I'm going for a long walk to ease my hangover.

I'm Mr Blue

I know I haven't been posting much and it's a kind of excuse that I've been depressed but it's an even bigger one that nothing much has been happening. I sometimes go looking for a blog post when I don't have one. I pick up bits of paper I find lying on the ground hoping that there's something funny/interesting written there but that recently I've found nothing but boring scribbles that I can't really read.

I spend a lot of time online filling in job applications that I never recieve replies to. I wank a lot, and cry a bit too.

Today Hot Baby Roy told me that it was his birthday next week and he asked if he could have a party here. I said yes but I don't know who he'll invite most people I know either think he's a pervert or want to give him a kicking (most of them think both).

I thought this year was going to be fun. I'm blue.

More Songs About The Smoker

I went for a walk down the Lagan Meadows hoping I might find a fiver or a tenner lying around. Why is it that I always find some shit like a letter to an ex-girlfriend or some motivational shit someone's written to convince themselves not to top themselves but no one ever drops a nice fiver or a tenner for poor old Tuesday Kid no fucking way.

I came across Panther Man sitting scabbing some drink off The Indie Kid and telling him all these platitudes. It nice the two of them can hook up and bore the shite out of each other from time to time.

When he saw me the first thing he said was; "Have you ever dreamed about wolves Tuesday Kid?"

"I don't remember much about my dreams," I shrugged.

He gave The Indie Kid a look and said "you see?"

The Indie Kid wrote something down in a wee shitty moleskin jotter on his leg.

"What the fuck are you writing about me?" I asked and took the book from him.

The Smoker never dreams
even though he falls asleep
he cannot see the wolves
even in his dreams.

"So those smoker songs are about me?"

The Indie Kid started to blush. I thought now was a good time to scab a tenner off him but he said they'd spent their last money on alcohol for inspiration for songs.

There wasn't enough in the bottle to get me drunk so I wandered home skint and sober.

The Battle for Westminster - South Belfast 2010

I've been feeling like a total dick today. I can't believe I've been back smoking crack again. I'd been quit for so long and all it took was meeting one prick on a bus to fuck the whole thing up.

That makes me wonder if I can trust myself around things like that in the future. I don't want to be around it but I'm always going to bump into people from the past who smoke it. Is that going to fuck it up for me every time?

Hot Baby Roy was in his bed when I left the house and he's away out now I'm back in. I don't know if he hit it off with The Raven Princess Spandex. I'd guess not but I'll say why another time.

I actually did vote. I'm not saying who I voted for but I will say that it wasn't UUP just because they're connected with the Tories. I know some of my readers might vote Tory, that's your choice and your right so let's not fight about it.

On my way to the poling station I bumped into Hoors Bastard, who I used to work with. He was smiling and happy and proud and said that he'd just voted DUP. He started saying that he was working in a different call centre now and that they were wanting more staff, and that I should come and join in the sum craic, Little My and Captain Cool Bastard and all the gang were there. Good King Thumpo, he'd been there to vote for TUV but there was no TUV candidate in South Belfast so he was sitting outside crying and saying that he spoiled his vote and that the other parties were only a shower of bastards.

Hoors Bastard said he should have voted DUP.

Good King Thumpo started shouting "Fuck the DUP", over and over at the top of his lungs.

Hoors Bastard told him that he'd better shut his hole or he'd be getting a haymacker in the face.

Then they started rolling about on the ground like a pair of lovers. Both of them passionate men, one of them already defeated with nothing to lose but the other with the chance of victory and the drive for success. I'm not sure who won but I fucked off to vote and went home a different way.