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.

A Nice Day on the Sofa

This morning I broke the bad news of my firing to Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo, they both started shouting at me about how could I do this? And how I couldn't go back on the dole. I reminded them that they both were on the dole and that maybe now they could stop scabbing off me and go out and find jobs and treat me to the spoils of their hard earned jobs.

They both started shouting again and I just went back upstairs and had a snooze. When I woke up neither of them were in the house so I went down and sat on the sofa with Battle Cat. I told him that I was fired but I wasn't going to stay on the dole long because I want money. I just want a better job than the shit one I had.

There was fuck all on TV so we watched a Chuck Norris DVD were Chuck stares down a bear. I don't know why everyone goes on about Chuck being all hard. I'd slap the ginger wee pishflap about with my big toe.

Bum Fights

Somehow Wino Jo's old drinking buddy Foosted Wotsit head has found out that Wino Jo is staying with me. Seems he didn't hear that Wino Jo is off the drink and he arrived up at the door with a big three litre Scabby Nettle Gang welcome pack.

Wino Jo was happy to see him but Hot Baby Roy told him to get knotted. That Wino Jo had been dry for a while and was staying dry despite what degenerates like Foosted Wotsit Head tried to do about it.

Foosted Wotsit Head beat the clean shite out of him and showed him that alcos can fight as well as healthy boys anyday, or that was the way Wino Jo put it.

Foosted Wotsit Head didn't give him a severe enough beating though because it wasn't long before Hot Baby Roy was on his feet and in and out of the broom cupboard and beating the shite clean out of Foosted Wotsit head with a baseball bat.

Wino Jo said he just sat back and laughed and he never realised how funny street drunks were until he stopped being one.

I thought this was a shit thing to say about his old mucker Foosted Wotsit Head but since Foosted Wotsit Head fled the city last year when I thought he'd killed Wino Jo in an alcohol fueled rage I patted Hot Baby Roy on the back and told him there was only room for one ginger in this house.

What is it With Sex?

Seriously like, what the fuck? I've lived in this house for years and barely get a shag the whole time, Hot Baby Roy has lived her about a month and he's about to shag one of the hottest neighbours who's ever lived here? How can this be? He's ginger and reads Barely Legal/Shaved.

Then there's work. I'm about to get the boot because some Dwarven Sex Pest can't just go to the toilets and wank about a twelve foot amazon in peace. I'll go into the specifics another time but he sat in HR crying today while his severe eyed mother patted his hand.

And what about wanking? When the frost and snow thaw it'll still be white outside my house. I... No, wait that's enough for today.

Tuesday Kid Brings Knowledge to the Streets

After the other day I decided it's time I took more interest into my Protege. I don't want him to become another version of me. I want him to be better.

I went down Stranmillis to find him and ran into Hot Baby Roy.

"This is a bit out of your stomping ground," I said.

"Not at all," said Hot Baby Roy. "The joggers, the fine athletic wear on the nice women here."

I told him that someone would twist his balls if they caught him perving. He snorted and said that he could take care of himself.

I told him that the joggers didn't take too kindly to being leered at.

Then my protege came along and said that he needed another lesson.

Hot Baby Roy said. "Tell girls a fake name, but one that sounds similar to your real name, so you can say they misheard if you like them."

"Hot Baby Roy stop corrupting him. I'm teaching him knowledge to get him off the streets."

Hot Baby Roy looked all shocked.

"Tell him how to get his hole and he'll be fine, he'll work out the rest if he needs to," he said.

Then he went off to perv at jogger ladies.

I turned to my protege and said, "if you ever find yourself in the company of ginger people, make your excuses and run before they learn your name."

Good King Thumpo Can Get a Shag?

Hot Baby Roy went home yesterday. He took Wild Child with him still unwatched. I think it's his favourite film. He left the others lying scattered on the floor. I came downstairs to find Battle Cat chewing the S Club 7 box. I took it from him and he barked angrily. I'd forgotten he was in the room when Hot Baby Roy stuck it on.

"Don't give me any of your cheek wee lad," I said to him and he wandered off into the kitchen.

I went for a day on the rob because I was pissed off at being skint. There's no fucking jobs anywhere. I applied for an admin one the other day and haven't heard fuck all back. I ran into Good King Thumpo who was bragging about some doll he pulled in Laverys the other night, "a wee rocker chick," he kept saying. He was nearly crying he was that happy.

"I love heavy head girls, pure leathal! Unless their into that voodoo shite, I went out with a doll who was and she was a fucking head wrecker. I love the oul heavy stuff though, see when you come home at night with your head roared, Megadeth! Fucking Megadeth! Tell the neighbours to fuck aff it's time for Megadeth!"

Then he did some air guitar and talked about how Dave Mustane was a big ginger bastard. Then I remembered that the voodoo chick he was talking about was Hooka.

I imagined them slam dancing to Megadeth and felt a tear run down my cheek. How can Good King Thumpo get lucky? He's fucking covered in tattoos. It's a good tactic though it detracts from him going bald.

Hot Baby Roy Stays In London and Searches in Time for Jack The Ripper

I let Hot Baby Roy stay over because the doctor said he was concussed. This meant he needed someone to watch him and make sure he didn't die. So I sat up and woke him after every couple of hours. This was bad because he said that he couldn't go to sleep without a wank and I told him he wasn't allowed to wank in the house. The next day I woke up to find he'd made me a big ulster fry to say thanks and bought Battle Cat some Pedigree Chum (which even though it's expensive it gives him the runs).

Hot Baby Roy seems to have changed his tune a bit. He was telling me that he was away in London for a week visiting his sister. He said that he spent a lot of time down in shoreditch because he'd read a book about there being prostitutes there and William Burroughs was a time traveller and he was the real Jack the Ripper.

I asked him if he managed to fuck any prostitutes. I was only joking but he took thick and said that he romanced them and bought them flowers and read poetry to them. Then he fucked them.

Then he said that as a big thank you he was going to go and get Wild Child and we'd watch it tonight!

I didn't want to upset him because he looked a sorry state with his big swollen face and his ginger hair with streaks of blood through it. When he tried to smile I felt sorry for him and thought he looked like he didn't deserve his beating, even though he probably did.

Hot Baby Roy gets hot sweaty and sticky

Hot Baby Roy came round last night and said that he wanted to know the crack about Bratz. I gave him the DVD back and said I didn't know he'd left it here.

"Great wasn't it!" he beamed proudly.

"I didn't watch it," I shrugged. "And I don't want to watch Wild Child either," I said motioning at the DVD under his arm.

"It's okay," he said, near in tears, "I'll go away."

"No don't," I said. "Come in I'm about to watch Barbwire. It's about bigger girls. Well just one in particular."

Hot Baby Roy licked his lips and waved a box of tissues at me.

"I knew we'd need these," he said happily.

"You're not wanking in my house," I said. "I might, but you can forget it."

"Just a joke," he sniggered. But I'm sure he muttered something about Fabian Wildman letting him do it.

After Barbwire he wanted to stick around and talk about Hot Baby Roy stuff. He said that his favourite song was Girls Aloud's The Loving Kind.



I told him I wasn't keen on it and that it thought it was Call The Shots Part 2. He said this wasn't so and that Call The Shots was about life and stuff but that The Loving Kind was about Ashley Cole cheating on Cheryl and that it was nothing to do with the rest of the band. You can tell this because she wears white in the video and the rest wear black. I told him I heard the Pet Shop Boys wrote it and he got pissed off and changed the subject. He said that the ginger was hot and I asked him if he thought that because he was a ginger too.

He said that had nothing to do with it because lots of non-gingers like her. I told him I didn't think gingers should be allowed to mate with other gingers.

"Who's talking about MATING?" he shouted."I want to FUCK."

Accidentally Kelly Street

After sorting stuff out with Indie Kid I started thinking about sorting things out with the rest of the street: Fat Rab and Hooka, that would take a while and is best left alone for now, Mr Spoon, I was going to have to think about that; for all his huffing and puffing and moralising and all that crap he just wants to think he lives somewhere nice where (nomatter what people do in their home) that sort of stuff doesn't happen on the streets.

I know he likes to make weird wines so I went to the veg shop on the Lisburn Road and bought him loads of beetroot and ginger and an aubergine.

I went round his house and knocked his door but no-one answered. It didn't sound like he was in. I went to the shop and bought a notepad and a pen and wrote him a wee note:

"I hope you can make some of your nice wine with this lot. I liked the bottle you gave me last summer Christmas."

Then I left it at his front door in a bag.

I was about to go in the house when I heard this Rolling Stones song playing loudly from the living room:



I looked through the window to see Fabian Wildman slithering about in his zentai giving it his best Jagger moves.

He was shouting: "Betty Blue! Whip my ass! Aren't you hypnotised by my ass!"

I didn't look any more to see her. I decided to leave them to it. Fabian more than deserved the house to him and Betty Blue for the rest of the day. So I went round the back and got Battle Cat and me and him went off to the Lagan Meadows for a nice big long walk.