No Way, No Way

This has to be the worst song I've ever heard, and I quite liked it when it was the Muppets' theme. Anyway, I had forgotten about this almost (it was always there, or had just finished, when I woke shivering on cold nights and I would have worked it out if I hadn't been scrambling to work out where I was). I came home last night from a smokin' hot jam with my sweaty metal band when I found that Fabian Wildman had thrown a party and invited the cast of the video along (I'm not sure if it was the real cast but it looked like them).

I often wonder what's happened to him, whatever happened to the Fabian that ate boiled eggs out of Betty Blue's pussy? Back to my Doctor Who analogy for Fabian Wildman because I think this sums him up. He's like when Paul McGann did the TV Movie. You could tell at the heart of it all he was the right guy and he was very much in the right place but everything else about it stank. So yeah, I want Fabian to be cool and fearless again and not moping around on crack with this skanky bunch.

Revenge on the Metallers

I still haven't calmed down about not being invited to the house party. So much so that last night I decided I couldn't take it any more. So I broke in next door and spat all over the Sweaty Metallers while they slept. I gave them both the fingers and went downstairs and helped myself to tea and toast that I knew they would want for their breakfast.

Then I went back round to my house and celebrated by sniffing some felt tips. It was in the middle of this that I realised that they didn't wash and probably wouldn't notice I'd spat all over them. So I went back round and wrote "I spat on you" all over their mirrors and "heavy metal is devil music".

That will teach them.

Heavy Metal House Party

I went round to the Sweaty Metallers' house today. I brought them a housewarming present. I was sure this would get things off to a great start.

"Hello Sweaty Metallers," I said when they answered the door. "Here's a Phil Collins album for you to listen to when you're slam dancing."

The sweaty metaller told me to fuck off and slammed the door in my face. Fuck them I'm not going to try any more. I decided to have a quiet night in but the metallers started playing loud heavy metal. I looked out the window to see people in the garden. It looked like they'd invited everyone else in the street, even Mr Spoon.

I was so upset. I tried to tell Fabian Wildman but he didn't care; he was too busy talking about his five-year plan. I couldn't be arsed listening I just sat around pissed off wanting to lick the bowl.

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.