Amazon war on society, is it nothing more than a feminist myth?

Fabian Wildman was awake when I came downstairs this morning. He said thanks for what I did yesterday. I told him it was nothing and he said he thought he was fucked. I asked him what he was doing there and will Zim Van Bindle send his amazon army after us. He said he didn't know anything about an amazon army. I told him that Zim Van Bindle was trying to get an amazon army together to bring about a sex war that will topple society.

Fabian Wildman said he hadn't heard of this but that it sounded like something that crack addled fool would think up. He said he hadn't seen any girls in the livingroom last night. Much less roid addled amazons.

I puzzled over it all morning on my way to work. I quickly forgot about it when The Punchbowl Girl took me into the Disabled Toilets and wasted £4.83 of the company's money.

I told her what happened and that it was actually an ex of Betty Blue's that I saved. Then this twinkle came into her eye and she said she wanted to know more about him. That was silly of me. I'll not mention him again in front of her.

Rescuing Fabian Wildman from the Amazon Porn Army

Nanny Boo Boo phoned me in a wile state earlier. It was horrible, she was saying she had a phonecall from Fabian Wildman and he was in a wile state, she thought he'd been smoking that horrible crack and he said he was chained to a radiator in the house of some guy called Vandle van Bundle.

"Do you mean Zim Van Bindle?" I asked.

"That's it," she sobbed down the phone.

There's nothing to spur you into action like an old woman crying. I forgot all about not being so keen on Fabian Wildman and his piss drinking ways anymore. I pulled on my coat and told Nanny Boo Boo I'd be back with a safe Fabian in no time.

I hoped on a bus (or two, maybe two) and in no time I was at Zim Van Bindle's house. I knocked on the door and when no one answered I braced myself to kick it down king kong kung-fu style. I was worried and thought that maybe a snarling horny Battle Cat could have won the day for me. I gave the door a final knock out of politeness and some sketchy man with black eyes answered the door. I pushed past him into the living room where Zim Van Bindle was sitting watch a DVD of Barb Wire surrounded by some she-ras.

"Where's Fabian Wildman?" I shouted.

"He's in the bathroom, he's going to test out the amazon warriors for me," Zim Van Bindle said. "I have to know that they can do this."

He pointed at the TV screen where this was happening:



"Fuck that," I said heading for the stairs.

"I went upstairs where Fabian Wildman was quivering below the sink with a load of other soon to be pulp guys. I did a macho thing and kicked the sink off the wall and screamed "Girl Power" the guys all ran off screaming.

Fabian Wildman and me escaped out of the window because we knew that the She-Ra's would destroy all the wimpy men running down the stairs. That plus Fabian Wildman owed Zim Van Bindle lots for weeks of crack he'd let him smoke.

Fabian is now sleeping on my couch. Hopefully he's learnt his lesson. I'm still not sure how I feel about everything but I'm glad that Zim Van Bindle's amazon army didn't fuck him up. Nanny Boo Boo was so pleased when I called her, she said that I should bring Battle Cat down for a big bowl of rotten sausages and me and Fabian Wildman down for wine.

The Old Gang Back Together?

Based on Hot Baby Roy's loved up humane suggestion we had Fabian Wildman round for a few cans the other night. The conversation started boringly and stopped a wee while later. Fabian was trying to be nice about everything, starting with Hot Baby Roy's trendy girl bought new clothes down to how clean the place is now I have money for cleaning products. Hot Baby Roy kept mentioning Hot Firey Love Lady in a way that made it obvious he'd always dreamt of sitting round talking to his buddies about his girl, not in a romantic slushy way. In a casual kind of "we bought scotch eggs the other morning" type stories that have no point other than illustrating he has a girlfriend so beat that.

I tried to ask Fabian a few questions just to see how he was keeping it turns out he's living in a homeless hostel and still smoking crack but trying to give it up. He said he'd been having a smoke with Zim Van Bindle and he'd mentioned I was back smoking it. I said that I'd had a few smokes earlier in the year but that was over with and that crack and Zim Van Bindle could go and fuck themselves.

The room went silent. But we were used to it by now.

Fabian started talking about how he wanted to get Betty Blue back and how he'd seen her out in Belfast some night with some wanker (Kissy Boy by the description) and that he was going to make her his again because they were meant to be, and they were going to be again.

I wasn't too happy about hearing this but Fabian Wildman was shaking and his face was all screwed up and bitter looking. He excused himself and went up to the toilet. I thought he might be crying there but then I clocked he was smoking crack. He came down a wee while later with a big smile on his face and said he had somewhere to be. Then he wandered off out into the scruffy evening cackling like that halfwit Popeye.

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.

Rory Rides Me Raw, Raw, Raw (over and over again)

Hot Baby Roy was sat slumped in front of the TV this morning watching Lazy Town.

Battle Cat was snarling at the TV and Hot Baby Roy was saying. "Yes pup, I know, it's terrible."

I asked him what was up and he said that him and Battle Cat were disgusted because they think that Sportacus and Rotten Robbie are grooming the wee girl in the pink.

I told him that wasn't true. Sportacus was trying to get people to be sporty and the other guy was trying to get people to lay around on their asses.

"The other guy?" Hot Baby Roy said. "His name, is Rotten Robbie. Why can't you just say his name Tuesday Kid?"

I asked him why couldn't he just go and get a girlfriend instead of watching suspect TV shows with my dog.

He said that he was about to make moves on The Raven Princess Spandex. He'd been going to hot leotard muscle parties and he was getting so close. He told her the other day about getting bullied at school for being ginger and she held his hand while he faked tears. He's going to stick the lips on her next time.

It's going to end in tears. I was pissed off that he hadn't invited me to these parties, or even mentioned he was going but I just fucked off to Zim Van Bindle's. I don't know why I told him about it, probably because he'll just forget it in a few hours like everything else that happens to him.

He asked me if The Leotard Girls could fight. I told him I didn't know but they were big millies so probably.

He just sat there huffing away at a bag of glue and listening to this on repeat for a few hours.



"Is that skipping?" he asked eventually.

Fighting The War With Amazon Porn

I'm not back on crack, at least I don't see myself as a crack smoker, and that's the main thing. I read something on stopping smoking that said the most important thing to do was to change your self image from smoker to non-smoker. So I'm sticking with that. I'm not a crackhead, not again.

I'm just walking down memory lane and seeing a few old faces and finding out that it was right that we stopped hanging out. Zim Van Bindle is a scatty fucker. He's seriously all over the place and tries to present his weird wee head as some mystic shaman for the neon streetlight generation (his fucking words). He talks about building a warrior igloo but putting food colouring in the ice so that he can build a rainbow igloo to show that his part in the war is reactionary and not aggressive.

Then he asked if he could come to my house and suft amazon porn on the net.

Things I Hear While Lying on the Floor

Lying on the floor at Zim Van Bindle's house earlier in the week I listened to him tell me his plan for becoming bad ass. Zim Van Bindle is scared. He says there's war coming and only the purest will be able to stay strong. He says that he was reading about the world's strongest girl online and he's been watching Kung-Fu movies and he has a plan to get together an army of his own fighting ladies, partly for the surprise to his enemies but also partly so he can be just like Mister Han Man Bullshit here:



Then he lit up his crack pipe and he realised it was time to fuck off home.

Early Morning Thoughts

This is the earliest I've been up in a long time. I've been shifting around in bed trying to get comfortable and I've only been managing fifteen minutes here and there. I know I must have slept some because the light outside keeps changing too much for me to have been awake.

I don't know what the fuck I was at last night. It was strange to see Zim Van Bindle in that part of town. What was he doing there? Maybe he was there to set me up or something. I think I was followed home. All night I've been hearing someone walking up and down the street outside, they change their pace and the heaviness of their step but I know it's the same person.

I'm going to try and sleep again. If I hear them I might look out the window, I've kept the lights off so they don't know I'm awake.

Sweat and Balls

Not doing crack anymore I rarely see anyone from the old crack days. I never really saw them anyway, they were mostly people I saw during bouts of no crack and then sharing for when I'd no crack again.

Only today I came across Zim Van Bindle on the bus. Zim Van (to his friends) shouted down the bus at me "HEY DUDE, I OWE YOU SOME SMOKING TIME", then he realised that everyone was staring at him and he started shouting:



Then he danced all the way up the bus with his big blood shot eyes and a biscuit tin he'd probably been busking with.

"HE DUDE, YOU GETTING OFF AT THE NEXT STOP FOR SOME YAY?"

"Yes," I said. I planned to get off the bus with him and kick his fuck in but once off I went back and had a smoke of crack with him for old times sake.