Belfast's First Snuff Movie

I've put up a new poll asking which job I should go for. I'm getting to that stage where if I want to be earning good money in a few years I need to be on track for it now otherwise I'm just going to be one of those grumpy bastards that never got what they wanted and makes it their job to see everyone else hates their job. I'd sooner go back on crack than do that. (I'm not planning to go back on crack by the way).

The Punchbowl Girl wasn't in work today and much as we've been banging away I don't even have her mobile number, a thing to rectify soon.

Yesterday after work I was walking up Shaftsbury Square when I bumped into Good King Thumpo. He was asking me where he could get a cheap camera. I asked him why and he said that he was looking to make his own snuff movies because he can't find decent snuff anywhere. He's tried St. George's Market, Nutts Corner, that place in the Smithfield. Fucking nowhere does it. He says he knows he can't be the only one who wants it so he's going to exploit a niche in the market that will save his balls and feed him and Ma Mutt when the tories cut his benefits. Posh bastards.

He says that he was thinking of kidnapping some of those wee indie fruits that hang around in Charlies Coffee Shop but he'd a better idea and now he'll try and get a foreigner because no one will miss them and that it's hard to prove snuff is actually snuff and not just mates dicking around, especially because he'll be laughing in the film so much. He says there was some zombie movie where the director killed people and got away with it in court because he'd killed foreigners. I think he's got the whole story arse about face but I can't remember the name of it. Anyways if I hear of him making it this could be the first and only time I'll shop someone to the cops.

                             Good King Thump Stars in - Snuff (like Speed but shit).

Belfast Get's Me Down Sometimes

It's indicative of Belfast being bounded by the sea and high hills that you inevitably run into some really inbred people from time to time.

Yesterday I was walking down Shaftsbury Square when I watched this mutherfucker in a car try and cut out from behind this wee old lady in a car and what the fuck happened? He nearly got hit by another car coming from the Donegal Pass. So there they both were at the lights and the wanker who cut out from behind the old ladies was sitting swearing at the other driver (the one from Donegal Pass) so what happens? The one from Donegal Pass just sat there with his window up making wanker signs at him. I really thought there was going to be major road rage and I was all prepared to split it up but it never happened. The wanker just drove off beeping his horn at anyone who cared to listen to him.

Then on my way up Botanic I met this wanker who told me that he thought I was scum and that he hated beggars. I told him that just because I hadn't washed that morning didn't make me a tramp and that my flatmate's ex-flatmate was into black magic and he should fuck off if he knew what was good for him. He wandered off and got in his car. I took the number plate down and if I ever see his fucking face around I'll be chucking stones at his shit fucking Renault (you'll never afford an Audi you bastard).

So I went home and cried in Battle Cat's empty food dish.

Good King Thumpo and The Indie Rock and Rollers

I bumped into Good King Thumpo earlier. He was wandering around Shaftsbury Square pished out of his face. He was blabbering on about being hard and kicking the shite out of people and the usual. I was plastered too and it only put me in the mood to go home and kick the shite out of Fat Rab. Good King Thumpo was kinda hard to follow because not only was he slurring his words he was also jumping from topic to topic. He started blubbing and singing wee bits from Suzanne Vega's Luka and some song about "ma wee babay" he looked to be near collapsing.

Then a car drove past playing this happy hardcore classic



Good King Thumpo took his top off to reveal his heavily tattooed, roid addled torso and started dancing all buck mad. I felt so shit I joined in (I kept my top on). We got into this cool thing where we stood opposite each other and had our hands interweaving as we raved like a bunch of cool dudes.

Some indie kids gathered round for a chuckle so we slapped the fuck out of them. We didn't draw blood so it was okay. Like typical indie kids they burst into tears and I think one wet himself.

Good King Thumpo felt much better.

"Nothing better than knocking those wee pish flaps about," he said tearing into another can.

I went into a phonebox and sobbed for a good half hour. Then I sat on the street and scrounged for a bit, something I've never done before but I figure it might become a handy skill to have what with this credit crunch.