Looking after Nanny Boo Boo's Place

Today I thought it was about time I cheered up. So I went and got a lend of Mr Spoon's lawnmower. Not because I wanted to mow my lawn but because I wanted to huff the petrol out of it. Only the rotten old bastard never told me there wasn't any in it. So I just waited a few hours and gave it back to him (after breaking the blades) and telling him he'd broken blades and I couldn't use it.

He looked pissed off but then again so was I, so fuck him.

I took Battle Cat down for a walk to Nanny Boo Boo's because she's gone to stay with her nephew in London for the week and asked me to water her plants. I let myself in and found a big bowl of sausages and a note saying "help yourself to wine". I got pished on her wine and listened to her LPs. This one is fucking rocking, it reminds me of Jive Bunny:

Fabian Faces Facts!

Thank fuck, we've finally got some rain to get rid of this pish heat. I've been sleeping in the nip at night and Fabian Wildman has been slithering about in his zentai screaming that it's all too much. The zentai wearing has lasted for a bit longer than usual but I think he's just having one last fling because his next flatmate might not be so understanding about it.

He emerged from his cocoon (his analogy - not mine) this morning looking malnourished but surprisingly more clean asking if he could have some toast.

I told him to help himself and he stormed off in a huff. I don't know what's up with him. Betty Blue called round to see him later and they spent a long time up in his room listening to Michael Jackson records and I'm sure I heard him wailing at one point. Poor Fabian, I didn't know he was such a fan. Jacko was never really here nor there with me. I think the press were ballbags to him but really it's none of my business.

Betty Blue came out to get some tissues for him and a glass of water because he was nearly dehydrated. I asked her if she was a Jacko fan. She said not really, when she was a wee girl her favourite song was Martine McCutcheon's Perfect Moment but that it wasn't really that good. It was just because she thought it was like Martine's character Tiffany from Eastenders' perfect moment, not Martine's.

Heil Fabian!

I've been a bit disturbed about Fabian Wildman's drunken outbursts and rather than blow up at him and start going over a load of old PC shite I decided to take the softly softly approach. Basically if he's recently been talked into this, it might be easy enough to talk him out of it.

So I sat down with him last night and asked what the craic was?

He told me that he wasn't a racist but that he didn't want poles taking our jobs.

I asked him if it was because he got fired.

He said no it wasn't.

I asked him if he thought that it was right that people from this country go all over the world taking jobs.

He shrugged and then showed me a text he'd got with a polish joke on it about how a hundred poles died in belfast last night when the bed 60 of them were sleeping on collapsed killing them and the 40 sleeping underneath.

I told him I didn't think it was funny. I asked him if he was upset about other stuff.

"No," he replied. "I just want to huff gas all day."

Then he brought out his 5 lighters for a pound and started huffing away.

This isn't over yet.