My Hot Date in Belfast

So me and The Punchbowl Girl went to China China last week for our hot date, and I haven't posted since. So here's what happened.

I show up at four like we'd arranged. You see China China has this all you can eat buffet deal. I you leave before five you are charged £5.99. If you leave before seven you're charged £7.99 and I think there's a third price but I don't know what it is.

Anyway I'm sitting there at four thinking we've an hour to stuff our faces and go somewhere else. Come half four there's no sign of The Punchbowl Girl. I'd been worrying since I arrived that she might not get there in time for us to get a good scran up.

I was starting to think she wasn't coming at all and maybe I should just get a big feed and ball my eyes out. I thought about texting her but I didn't want to blow my cool. What if she was coming. I felt like crying. I couldn't believe it. She'd come in and catch me balling into ice-cream and banana balls. Then at a quarter to five (way too late for us to get the £5.99 scran up) The Punchbowl Girl walks in looking all pretty punk rock. And when she sits down and says:

"Sorry I'm late, I suppose we could maybe get the £5.99 if we're quick."

I say:

"Take your time Punchbowl Girl I'm not cheap."

We started off on prawn toast and spare ribs and had a nice giggle watching all the other diners run for the till at five to five.

We had a nice romantic dinner for two for £7.99 a head. It was worth every penny. I'd have paid more.

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.