Pete Doherty Plays Belfast!!

The Indie Kid across the street threw a party last night. A kind of 'let's get the parties started' thing but later he told me (when totally pished and close to tears) that it had all been about getting some of the fine pussy across the street. She didn't show up but there was a motley cast of indie rock and rollers from around Belfast.

Rock and Roll Stephen was there, meaning business, wearing the tightest pair of women's jeans and the tightest perm and his mothers handbag. He'd a wee silver case full of rollies.

I told him he looked like he meant business and he said: "From now on things are going to be full on, with relationships and studying."

I winced and told him that I once met Johnny Borrell in Donaghadee (a lie but the Indie Kid will back me up because he thinks it's true).

For some reason Sexy Carlos was there and he was walking around bare chested with the words "Who do I trust? I trust me!" scrawled across his chest in red lipstick. A thing Rock and Roll Stephen told me he'd stolen from the Manic Street Preachers, I thought it was Scarface.

I got talking to this girl at the punch bowl who told me that she was going to comit suicide when she turned twenty one. I asked her what age she was and she said nineteen. I told her that she should extend it to twenty five because after school and uni there's a lot of fun to be had lying around on the dole playing computer games and smoking crack (if that's your thing, it's not mine any more).

She told me that what I'd just said was profound. I smiled like a dog who's just realised it can lick it's own balls. I pretty much talked to her the rest of the night giving out half-wisdoms which she pretty much lapped up like a cat who'd been left out a bowl of milk by people who aren't it's owners.

Rock and Roll Stephen nearly spoiled it by bringing out a guitar and shouting:

"Who says Pete Doherty can't come to Belfast. Rock and Roll Stephen brings Pete Doherty right here!"

Then he started playing some Pete Doherty but no one really listened. I was glad when he fucked off home in tears.

Bows and Arrows, and Felt-tip Pens

Today I woke up to find Fabian Wildman out in the garden talking to Battle Cat. He'd his knife out and was using it to sharpen a long stick. I wasn't pleased about him being round Battle Cat with his knife but I was more interested in what the fuck was doing.

"I'm sharpening arrows to shoot the milk thief in the ass," he said.

"What milk thief?" I asked.

"Every morning I wake up to get my milk from the door step and it's not there, so I'm going to stay awake tonight and wait for the thief, then I'm going to shoot him in the ass with my bow and arrow."

"Fabian Wildman, we don't get milk delivered to us, that's why there's no milk."

"No, at the start of the year this big wonky fucker who looked like Sammy Wilson came round the house when you were out. I asked him if he was a milk man and he said yes, so I gives him a hundred pounds and says, that's for milk, call again when it runs out. We haven't had milk yet."

"Have you been smoking crack again?" I asked him.

He shook his head but then I noticed he had big blue nostrils.

"Have you been sniffing filt tips?"

He nods and giggles at this.

"I gave up crack," he said. "Not everything, so what if I want to relax with a sharpie from time to time. I don't trust a man who don't get wasted; they're never big in the mouth."

I took Battle Cat inside, even though I don't think Fabian would do anything to harm him, off his face or otherwise, I just don't want him to see Fabian when he starts digging a hole in the ground to fuck.

1 Day Off Crack

I couldn't sleep last night, I think I managed to drift off for twenty minutes here and there but nothing like proper sleep. Anyways I heard Fabian Wildman take Battle Cat for a walk and when he came back he called me down to the kitchen.

"Okay so It's been 24 hours since your last smoke of crack," he said. "So me and Battle Cat have got you a cake for your one day anniversary."

"Thanks," I said, I was a bit overwhelmed because I really wasn't expecting this.

"You see when you've done a week we'll have another, then every month, then so on. You know."

"Aw I already owe you a day, week and month one," I said.

"Never worry," he said. "Let's eat cake."

"Woof!" said Battle Cat.

We were tucking into some cream cake when there was a knock on the door.

Fabian went to answer it. I heard him talking to Fat Rab and Hooka. They sounded angry. They were shouting about the police.

Fabian invited them in.

"There's some people here to see you," he said.

"That wee indie wanker across the street videoed you on his mobile not only pouring milk through our door, but pissing in it too."

I shrugged.

"You'd need to do better than that," Fat Rab said. "Unless you want to wake up some night to some of our occult mates kicking your door in."

"Tuesday Kid here is celebrating giving up crack," Fabian Wildman said. "He did a lot of stuff on crack that he can't remember, so if he can't remember it, everyone else should forget it."

I looked at Hooka but there was nothing soft in the way she looked at me.

"We're going to the fucking police," Fat Rab said all smug. "Then we'll set the lads on you."

"Fine, we'll stab the pair of you," Fabian said.

Hooka gave a wee sound like she was scared, and Fat Rab tried to look like he wasn't scared but it was obvious he hadn't expected Fabian's answer.

"It's okay," Fabian said. "We won't kill you. But we'll stab some of your satanist mates too, especially the Death Owl. I know none of you dicks can fight for fuck."

Fat Rab and Hooka just stood there looking stunned.

"Right now if you've said your piece, fuck off," Fabian said motioning at the door.

"We're gonna party down, they can go fuck themselves," he said taking a bit mouthful of cake.

The Coolest Crackhead in Belfast

Hooka and Fat Rab went on holiday today. I don't know how since both of them are on the dole. Anyways, Hooka came round to ask if I'd look after Gobbolino. I said yes, like the sappy bastard I am.

Anyways I thought I'd let Gobbolino and Battle Cat play but I had to watch them because Gobbolino is still very tiny, and he could fit easily in Battle Cat's mouth, but Battle Cat was nice and they had lots of fun.

Fabian has started being twitchy and it's starting to do my nut. He gave me his knife to look after at the start of the week but that hasn't stopped him being a scary bastard. I watched him this morning have a conversation with himself in the mirror about how he was the coolest. He went on to list all the things that made him the coolest including rollerblading and shoplifting. I didn't know he rollerbladed. It kind of explains his love of spandex.

I got so stressed out about looking after him and the animals and the thought of Hooka and Fat Rab in some fancy hotel together (probably more like some shit B and B in Portrush) that I went and pissed through their letter box. That'll be nice for them to come back to.

I went in the house and told Fabian Wildman about it and he says milk would have been better because it smells worse than piss after it soaks in.

I went round later and poured a bottle of milk in. Fuck them.