I stood outside the cinema for three hours waiting for Sweet Lips. Even though we agreed to meet at six, at first I thought maybe she'd gotten the viewing times mixed up but after it reached nine I couldn't kid myself any longer.

Three hours standing in the misery that is Bankmore Square in the windy, pissy cold night. I wandered up Botanic and called in on Fabian Wildman, I hoped he'd have some crack. He didn't. He's hateful too when he's coming off crack, all twitchy and scatty as fuck.

I was telling him that I'd been lonely now for a while and I'd been looking forward to my date with Sweet Lips because it'd be nice to have someone, especially at this time of year when it's so miserable. It'd be nice to have someone to feel involved with, so I wouldn't be running around all the time inside my own head all tangled up in all the crap that happens everyday and that yeah, I would like to have someone I could think about or give a shit what's happening to them. That's why I just seem to sit there all day daydreaming about Hermione Granger, and I just feel like such a sad fucker because it's not even like something's going to happen between us.

I felt I was going on a wee bit so I shut up. Fabian just sat there for a while, then he took out his flick knife and started dancing around the room all jerky and twitchy.

"You know what you need to do?" he says, "you need to stab the Ron Weasley muthafucker,"

The stupid bastard thinks I've just been talking about Hermione the whole time. He says he's read the books and that Hermione is digging on Ron and that that's why I don't stand a chance.

"Ron Weasley isn't real," I say to him. "Niether's Hermione, that's why I feel sad, I feel like a sad bastard."

"It's okay," he says, "I'd stab the Ron Weasley for you, I got your fucking back."

I'm not going to keep this up. Stabbing anyone, let alone a fictional character, isn't going to help.

I like Ron Weasley, and if him and Hermione end up together that would be cool. I get up and leave because Fabian looks like a wanker dancing round his room with his knife. I know that anytime soon he's going to put on his Zentai and ask me to play blindman's buff. I once waited until he put it on then beat the shit out of him, but I'm not in the mood.

The thing is, if Fabian did try to stab Ron. Harry and Hermione would have Ron's back, not to mention Dumbledore and Hagrid and Sirius and Neville and Luna and all the Weasley clan, and that's only scratching the surface. Who do I have? A retard in a Zentai, and some satanist neighbours. My only real friend is my crack pipe.

I just wander off home and stop along the way to get some crack.

I don't smoke it, I just sit in my room and cry while listening to some Neyo. He really hits the nail on the head when I'm feeling like this.

The town was full today, don't know why but it was hard to get round Belfast without people banging into you. My favourite game is to walk into people who aren't looking where they are going.

There are a few exclusions to this:

Old People, people with prams (must have child in pram), pregnant women and people with walking aids/wheelchairs.

Anyone else is fair game.

There are two types of people who walk without looking where they're going:

busy people - they know where they're going, they're in a hurry and are usually deep in thought about other things. They are the lesser of the two evils.

people who are up themselves - usually female (though not always), people who spend a lot on cosmetics and don't watch where they are going because they think people are watching them (and will thus avoid a collision).

The second kind is the funniest to walk into. Today I did it at least five times. The trick is not to knock someone flying but to give them a jolt.

This one lady started yelling at me that I should watch where I'm going and that she was a poor defensless woman and I was nothing but a brute.

This dude decided to ignore the advice of fellow junky William S. Burroughs - never get involved in a boy girl fight.

He came along all, "what you doing? I'll bust your face!" I laid him out with a kick in the balls.

Then I turned to the girl and smiled sarcastically. She hit me with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, and asked if I'd buy her a drink. I obliged and we got along famously.

Her name is Sweet Lips (that's the only name you're getting) and we're meeting for cheapo Tuesdays at the Dublin Road. I dunno what's on, hope it's a horror!