Indie Kids Fight Back

Last night I was waiting on a bus on the Lisburn Road when I saw the funniest thing. This indie kid (not the one from my street) was standing at a bus stop with his his girlfriend when this spide comes along and starts slagging him off for his tight jeans and non-ironic moustache.

The wee indie kid took it for about a minute, then he looked at his girlfriend, then at me, and then he said to the spide to leave him alone.

"What the fuck like?" the spide said. "I'm just being some crack, no need to be a wee fruity boy about it."

"I'm not being anything," the indie kid says. "I'm just wanting to catch my bus."

"Wind yer neck in ballbag," the spide says slapping him around the head.

"YOU DON'T SLAP ME IN THE FUCKING HEAD," the indie kid shouted at him getting all up in the spide's face.

"Are you fucking starting?" the spide says getting his pigeon chest going.

"YOU WERE STARTING FIVE FUCKING MINUTES AGO," The wee indie kid shouts as he rattles him in the side of the face and starts knocking fuck out of him. "THIS ISN'T A GAME OF YOU MAKE A DICK OUT OF ME AND FUCK OFF SNIGGERING."

The indie kid's girlfriend started to cry. I didn't know if she was crying because of fear or because she didn't agree with violence but I wanted to tell her that he was in the right and the spide was the one who was bad.

Busted in Drag

So there I was downing a full bottle of whiskey, wearing the oul drag and watching X-Factor on Saturday night, when I looks out the window and sees My Protege and one of his wee wanker mates standing outside.

My Protege had a face like beetroot (he's a big beetroot head at him but anyway) and his mate was pishing himself and shouting "he's so gay!"

"Here you wee bastard, come on in and my dog will eat you for saying that."

"I'm not going into your house, you're gay!" he shouted.

I opened the front door and walked out all Get Carter and said:

"Battle Cat eat this wee wanker."

Battle Cat ran out woofing and the wee fucker ran off. In truth Battle Cat would have just licked him but he wasn't to know and didn't stick around to find out.

"He's right," shouted My Protege "you're a fruit," and he ran off crying.

Fuck him. I just find it comfy.

Another Shite Day at the Dole

It's been a weird few days. It's been great sunny weather and I've been miserable as fuck. I ran out of money and had to go down the dole for a crisis loan. Nasty fuckers, say that they can't give you one unless it's an emergency so I told them that a water pipe had burst and spoiled all my food.

They asked for my landlord's number but I told them that I didn't have it on me and couldn't go home to get it. They eyed me up all suspicious. It was this fat wanker who wore a polo shirt and looked like he'd never played polo, or any sport other than "find the bags of crisps" which he's very good at, the fat crisp eating bastard.

Anyway he told me I had to wait an hour on the loan to be decided and I sat there feeling bored and pissed off. There weren't even any newspapers to read.

I looked on the job search machines and there was fuck all going. Most of the work on offer is part-time which is pish because you have to work sixteen hours a week and you come off worse than dole and housing benefit combined.

The place was bunged, loads of fuckers in looking crisis loans because unemployment and the price of stuff has went up so you have to sit there like a glum fucker and wait for your cash. Some of them had kids with them who crawled around goo-gooing a load of spidey shite.

I got a text from Fabian Wildman, the first since he's moved out, I took my phone out to read it when this wee bitch of a security guard came right over and got up in my face saying: "you can't text in here, you can't text in here."

"I'm not texting. I'm reading a text," I said.

"Same thing, same thing. You can't use phones at all."

Then I had to go outside to read it.

It was just Fabian saying that he'd left some socks and would I be in this evening for him to come and get them.

I didn't reply.

I didn't get my crisis loan either, so I just went to Tescos on the rob.

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.

I kissed a girl

Fabian Wildman's back with Betty Blue. She came round this morning and they've been in bed all day. And if you're curious about whether they've boiled eggs in there with them I haven't looked the fridge yet.

Either way they were riding away all day Fabian was blasting out Tom Waits, which was a nice way to drown them out, better than Angry Anderson, speaking of which I bumped into Hooka today when I was down the Lagan Meadows with Battle Cat. She had a camera with her, she said she loves how it looks in the winter. She wanted to take a photo of me and Battle Cat but I told her I hate having my photo taken. I let her take one of Battle Cat off the leash but I'm not posting it up here. We walked down to close to Shaw's Bridge and it was getting dark as we were walking back. You get bats down there and they kept flying close to us. Hooka was scared, even though she's a witch; I'd have thought she'd be okay with them. She said that's a stereotype and that she doesn't have a cauldron or toads or a broomstick or anything other than a black cat.

I kissed her, she kissed me back but afterwards said she shouldn't have because Fat Rab would come after me if he knew. I told her it didn't matter because I wasn't scared of him or his mates. I kissed her again but she pulled away and told me she had to go. I let her walk off because it would have been an awkward walk up the road.

I waited down there with Battle Cat sulking and when some spides came along I kicked the shite out of them and stole their beer. I went home and drank it while listening to Tom Waits through Fabian's wall.