Those Poor Shops of Belfast

We have new neighbours. I heard them moving in yesterday. Two big sweaty metallers. When I saw them move in I was so shocked I just blurted out:

"Hello Sweaty Metallers, do yous worship the devil?"

"Get fucked you spidey ballbag," one of them said flipping me da bird.

Then I explained that I wasn't judging him it was just that the peeps who used to live there were satanists.

"Do you want your shit kicked in?" he asked, thinking I was just taking the piss more.

It wouldn't have been right to slap them around the place, because I'm sure they get people saying this shit to them all the time. I went inside. I figured I'd go round another time and introduce myself properly.

Fabian came home today in tears. When I asked him what was wrong he said that he'd caught a wee kid shop lifting and called the cops, when the cops came it was the same ones that busted him last year. The cop didn't recognise him but Fabian realised there and then what a scumbag he was.

"So you're not going to catch shoplifters anymore?" I asked.

"No!" he spat. "I'm a scumbag for thieving. Those poor shops of Belfast."

One of the chairs in our kitchen has a wonky leg. If he'd been sitting on it I'd have kicked it out from under him. But as it was he was on a sturdy seat.

Be true cause they'll lock you up in a sad sad zoo

Fabian seems to have really taken to his new found employed status with the same ferocity he took to being a crackhead. In other words he's come home every night this week talking about "lazy dole scum bastards" and wee kids in the shop that he knows are shoplifting and how if he catches one of them stealing he's going to nail their hand to whatever they're stealing and boot them out of the shop on their arse. I think he was high on felt tips when he said it but that's no real excuse.

I've been taking Battle Cat for walks down to the Odyssey Arena. He likes the picture on the underpass of the bear wanking and giving the fingers but I keep telling him it's a shame he's not human because if he was then we could go in for a boogie on a friday night and maybe get a woman or two.

For now though we just sit and stare across the smelly Lagan at the Masonic compasses on the far bank.

A storm is coming.

Looking for a new hobby

Already I'm hyped because I'm amped. I got up early yesterday morning and licked the bowl. I'm going to need to find a hobby in the coming weeks so I don't get lonely, what with Fabian Wildman having a job. There's only so much dog walking you can do. I think I might start going to the zoo and feeding the animals. I haven't been to Belfast Zoo in years and it'd be nice to go and hang out with all the monkeys and thank fuck one of my ancestors decided to jump down from the tree and walk upright. It's strange to think about how your parents and beyond influenced you. Like all the people who have big wonky heads because their ma's drank booze when they were in the womb.

I thought about researching my family tree but when I said this to Fabian Wildman he said that there was only so much I could find out on line, I'd need money to travel about the show so that was a big no no.

When I asked him for suggestions he gave me a funny look and said - "you could try getting a job."

Fuck me, he hasn't even started and he's already talking like a big capitalist scumbag. See if he starts catching shoplifters I'll loose all faith in humanity.

If he forgets who he is I'll play him this Neil Young song to remind him: