How Do You Break Things Gently?

Last night was excrutiating. When I got in from work Hot Baby Roy and Wino Jo sat me down and told me to be honest about their rendition of the Anfield Rap.

Instead of a backing track they took turns at human beatbox while the other rapped. It was pants, they looked as awkward as any X-factor finalist and wore expressions of "please say this is shit to get me out of doing this".

I didn't want to be the bad guy who spoiled their dreams of being cool fly rappers who get the leotard girls. I also thought that maybe if I let them make dicks out of themselves it might make me look a bit cooler and then I could be sensitive and pull. In the end I had to tell them.

"Listen lads," I said. "I think you need more practise."
"But is it going to work?" Hot Baby Roy asked, he kept rolling his hands waiting for me to elaborate.
"No," I said after a while. "I don't think it will."
They looked crestfallen.
"You know you can both sing," I said. This is half true, Wino Jo can sing, Hot Baby Roy, while not being awful, is only tolerable for one song. "Why don't we get them a Kareoke game or something, then you can both croon at them."
Hot Baby Roy went up to his room and started smashing things. A single salty tear rang down Wino Jo's face and he licked it off and whispered:

"Salty," without looking at me.

Spring Cleaning in Winter

I started cleaning out the spare room today. Now Fabien's a proper housemate he needs a proper room. The spare room is full of a lot of junk that I bought and intended to use but never did.

There's a glockenspiel, an unassembled pool table, a surfboard, a dead body in a suitcase (that smells a bit), a load of tobacco that I found at the dump that I started making into fags to sell (but a visit from some local lads put a stop to that if you know what I mean) and a kareoke machine for fun nights in (that had never been used).

One of the things on that list is a lie by the way.

I wasn't the only one in the mood for sorting stuff out round the house. Today saw (or heard) the second rare outburst from Mr Spoon in as many days. I was lying on the sofa hazy from crack when I heard him banging on the wall. I wondered what he was at but the regular thumping sounded like he was putting up shelves.

Suddenly there was a crash and the sound of something heavy falling on and smashing something ornamental (like a china vase).

"AW FOR FLIP SAKE!" he shouted.

Such a nice polite man, even when he's not in the mood.