How to removed a bottlelox security tag

I was at Nanny Boo Boo's a few weeks ago just catching up . She was in a bad mood, because she'd bought a bottle of her favourite vodka from Sainsburys and they'd forgotten to remove the security tag. So off she came home thirsty and unable to drink the lovely drink.

I told her she should have called me and I'd have come round right away, and prepared ! told her that I'd nicked bottles of stuff with the bottlelox still on it in my wilder days and taking it off was as easy as taking a piss down an alley when you get caught short. She said that it wasn't quite for easy for women as it was for men. I told her that removing a bottlelox was.



Basically getting the lock off is a piece of piss as long as you have a drill, which Nanny Boo Boo didn't. After hoaking through her old junk cupboard the only thing I could find was a wee hacksaw which I used to saw around the bit you drill. It took a little longer than the sleek job the guy makes of it in the vid but afterwards we settled down to vodka ice and nothing else because Nanny Boo Boo had drank all her mixer in bad temper and neither of us could be arsed walking to the shop for more.

That Kicking Didn't Go According To Plan Then

It was such a simple plan; I had his address and I was on my way round to Mother of Bowling Ball's to give him the kicking of his life.

Instead I spend last night sitting in casualty.

I left work early complaining of having a dicky tummy, which was a complete lie. I was fighting fit. I went home to do some press-ups (not too many because they tire you out, just enough so I'd be all big and fearsome looking). I took no weapons with me; this was going to be a clean street brawl. I thought about texting Hot Baby Roy so he could come and watch, maybe even lay a few digs in while Mother of Bowling Ball was flat on his back crying. But no, Hot Firey Love Lady would try to stop me, this was going to run as smooth as Barry White sliding out of a fridge.

On the way over I did a Rocky Run and thought maybe some street kids would run along with me because they knew I was the champ. I stopped just round the corner from the house to get my game plan together. I was going to have to knock the door, storm in when it was opened and slam it behind me. If it wasn't Mother of Bowling Ball that answered the door I was going to have to tear the place apart to find him.

There was a sound coming from inside a bin like a dog had a toothy accident when licking it's balls. It was distracting me and I needed focus. I opened the lid to see Wino Jo in there with a big yellow face half hiccoughing, half screaming.

"Wino Jo? What the fuck are you at?"

He couldn't remember. He banged about inside the bin until it fell over, then he crawled out and boked all over the alleyway.

He's off the wagon then. Worse than that he'd been drinking Turgenev (vodka and Berroca) all day. Bad fucking move. Because Berroca is full of vitamins you're only really supposed to have one glass of the stuff. It gives you a nice kick if you're trying to keep a bender going but no way should you get drunk on it.

The Turgenev left in the bottle was the colour of a happy horses pish (yellow - not clear). I took him to the city hospital where we had to wait for hours to get seen. I kept getting water into Wino Jo and making him go to the toilet to boke. By the time we were seen he was a complete mess but he was past the worst of it. The doctor just sent us home and asked me to keep an eye on him.

Yes he's back at mine, he's off the wagon. I don't know how long either is going to be fore but I hope both are not long.

Not So Happy Birthday Hot Baby Roy

Yesterday was Hot Baby Roy's party. He was so excited and I'd been sitting with my fingers crossed that someone was going to show. I'd managed to get a crisis loan off the dole and I bought him a Mr T keyring and a Hollyoaks Girls calender that had been reduced to 50p because it was half defunct.

Hot Baby Roy was all talking about the presents he was going to get and about how he'd put a note through the leotard girls' letterbox saying they were very welcome but Rock and Roll Stephen wasn't.

I sat watching the clock crossing my fingers so tight I left big purple tracks in them. A few taxis pulled up in the street and I thought it was going to get a bit easier but the people who got out went next door. I couldn't believe the leotard girls were throwing a party on the same night like they were trying to say fuck you to Hot Baby Roy. The longer we sat the more people went next door and no one came near us. Then at about half nine. Hot Baby Roy started to drink the bottle of vodka Nanny Boo Boo sent, and then he started to cry.

"Nobody came," he kept saying. And he started hugging Battle Cat and crying even more. "I want friends," he said.

I felt bad for him. Nobody came, not even just to pop in and say happy birthday. He didn't even get a text. He started to say that he thought moving in with me was going to be the start of him having a social life and that when he started to make friends with the leotard girls he thought maybe he'd get a girlfriend but now it was his birthday he saw that people just were having a laugh at him and he was going to go next door with a baseball bat and show mutherfuckers what time it was.

I tried to talk to him to calm him down, I told him that me and him should go out for the night, that I was his friend and that I wanted him to have a happy birthday.

He was a sorry mess by the time we hit the city. He was plastered and boked a few times on our way there. I don't know how we managed to get in anywhere.

We ended up in Lavery's back bar swinging and dancing like wild apes. No one wanted to kiss or cuddle us and we ended up sitting down for most of the night. I bought Hot Baby Roy a few pints and he fell asleep. I walked about looking for someone to talk to and ended up boking in the bogs for a wee bit. Then when I came back to him he was away. I looked for him and found him sitting talking to another wee ginger girl. She and him had twisted up faces like they were commiserating each other on not having things a bit more like they'd like them.

I left him to it, hoping that he'd pull her. He's still in bed, that or he didn't come home. I'm going for a long walk to ease my hangover.

Still Just Me and Hot Baby Roy for his Party

I went down to visit Nanny Boo Boo today to ask if she wanted to go to Hot Baby Roy's party and she said that she didn't. She tried to be nice about it but she gave me a bottle of vodka and said to say happy birthday to him for her.

At least she gave him something which is more than I'll do. I've no money and I'm scared of going on the rob. I think I've lost my nerve for it but I have to get him something.

I asked her when her birthday was and she said that it had been last year when she went to London. I asked her why didn't she tell me and she said that if she had I'd have asked her her age and we'd have fallen out but she knows I'd have said happy birthday and then we drunk loads and forgot about it.

An Unwelcome Guest

I woke up this morning and the house was freezing. I went downstairs to find Clarence lying on the livingroom floor clutching an empty vodka bottle in one hand and rubbing his crotch slowly with the other. He'd Hot Baby Roy's Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging DVD tucked under one arm. It was rotten looking.

"Clarence, how'd you get in here?" I asked.
He just groaned.

Fabian Wildman came down stairs asking why the house was so cold. He said he didn't know how Clarence got in, then we discovered that he'd kicked the back door in while we'd been sleeping.

My first thought was Battle Cat, if he'd ran away again, Clarence was dead meat. I ran out into the back to find him lazing about in the garden. Clarence had left the back gate open. Bastard.

I shut the gate and ran back inside.

Fabian Wildman was already going through Clarence's pockets for money. He shook his head at me to say there wasn't any.

"Who does this bastard think he is?" he said. "This is our home."

It was touching to hear that Fabian Wildman still thinks of this place as his home. We gave Clarence a few gentle shakes to wake him up, then after asking how he was feeling, me and Fabian Wildman beat the shite out of him.

Clarence Rubs His Crotch

I was sitting in the living room today when I heard a knock at the door. It turned out it was Clarence. I didn't know whether to let him in or not but one of the upstairs windows were open and I could see him eyeing it up. He walked over to the drainpipe and started pulling at it, like he was seeing if it would take his weight.

I opened the door to him.

"Nice drain pipe," he said cheerily.
"Aye, I like it a lot," I said. "What can I do for you Clarence?"

He stood their rubbing his crotch and asked me if I'd the number for the Unicorn Girl.

"No, I don't," I said. "You should leave her alone, her heart is pure, yours is mucky."

He snarled at me and snapped that he wanted a sweetheart and it was time Clarence stepped into the limelight!

He said that he would take her shopping and they could drink vodka in the park and she could rub his crotch when he was too tired to wank. It was all he wanted and I shouldn't try to stand in his way. Or he would figure out a way to destroy me.

I told him to eat his own fuck and leave me out of it.

He said he could prove he was nice. I should hang out with him and I'd see he just has a bad rep.

I said okay, maybe me and him could go to the pub quiz Hot Baby Roy runs down at the Rangers Supporters Club on Sandy Row.

He snorted at this and said Hot Baby Roy did nothing of the sort, that he wanted to run a pub quiz and he often talked at great length about how running his own pub quiz would be his one true dream, just like Clarence wanted a sweetheart, but that no one was going to trust a jittery fool like Hot Baby Roy with such responsibility. So Hot Baby Roy has been lying to people about it.

I told Clarence that stories like that are the reason he wasn't getting the Unicorn Girl's number, the real reason is that I fancy a go at her myself.

It all comes out (a bit)

I got really pissed the other day when I was down at Nanny Boo Boo's, that old lady likes to pack her vodka away. I like it too but vodka always leaves me in a really emotional state and after blurting out to her that I wasn't looking forward to Fabian Wildman leaving and how my brother Wino Jo had been missing all year and no one's seen him and I hadn't heard from my brothers in months and I was pissed off that no one gave a fuck. I told her about Foosted Wotsit head and how I thought he'd done something to Wino Jo but that he'd disappeared to and all the leads were cold.

She said that I should put an add in the Belfast Telegraph but I said I'd no money and sure no one reads the classifieds except for spooks looking for instructions on their next mission.

She asked me some more about Foosted Wotsit Head and when I told her she said that she'd known him years ago and that she was surprised he was a wino because back in the day gambling was his thing and that he played a mean game of stud poker.

I was so plastered but when I got home Fabian Wildman was out and so I phoned my metaller brother in Larne but he wasn't in so I left him a voice mail. I have to admit I was pretty emotional so it just came out something like:

"Wino Jo...Wino Jo...where is Wino Jo....f-f-f-Foosted Wotsit Head has had bad dreams."

Or some shit so I hate to think what he made of it. I haven't heard back from him. I might leave it a week or two and call again.

Party Time

So on Sunday we'd a big cool party to celebrate Battle Cat being back. We didn't want to make it a rock and roll heavy metal vomit one because Nanny Boo Boo was coming over and we were worried about how she'd find it. The Sweaty Metallers were on their best behaviour but a few sherry's in Nanny Boo Boo starting asking for the vodka and asked for us to play some loud music. She was a right riot. Listening to all the sweaty metaller's funny stories about rock and roll vomit parties and all the sweaty metal things they get up to. It was then I realised that both of them were competing for the affections of the Banshee who lapped it all up.

Fabian Wildman and Betty Blue were hanging out in the corner talking to Mr Spoon because Betty Blue wants to start making weird wine with beetroot and rhubarb and other weird stuff. Mr Spoon had kindly brought round two bottles (which, no harm to him, made everyone who tried them boke). The special place was reserved for Battle Cat who sat in the corner most of the night woofing away pleasantly and glad to be home.

Mr Spoon left around ten and Nanny Boo Boo a short while later. I told her I'd bring Battle Cat down to visit soon. She said she'd like that and that she'd enjoyed her time at the party and maybe she'd get an invite to the next heavy metal vomit one. I don't see why not.

After that we all played strip twister which got very messy and we were all drunk and didn't understand the rules.

I can't remember how it ended but I woke up bollock naked in the living room on my own with Battle Cat licking my face.

Sweaty Metal Jam No 1

I went round to the sweaty metallers today to see about their sweaty metal band. The metallers plugged in their flying v guitars and played some mean ass dragon force shit. I got carried away and started slam dancing their and then and they loved that almost as much as my heavy metal screaming.

They handed me some song lyrics they wanted me to sing. It was here that it went down hill a wee bit, because the lyrics were sheee-ite. They were all about how some fellah (me I assume) and hi wuman were at some banquet getting it on when the orc hords invaded and tried to slay us all. It was pure pish but I just screamed away hoping I could change them at a later date. The sweaty metallers loved what they heard and told me I had to come to a vomit party at their mates up in Newtownbreda

I went home to get changed but had to stay in because I found Fabian Wildman sitting with a bottle of tesco's vodka and five lighters for a pound drinking and sniffing away and balling his eyes out too. He's just lost his job.

Congratulations Fabian Wildman

Fabian Wildman found out today that he's got the job he applied for, pretty cool. We had a celebratory bottle of Vodka last night and he bought Battle Cat some dog treats. He made me promise not to say the name of the shop on here, so I won't. He also said if anyone works out who he is from this blog he'll let you away with shoplifting (to be honest I think he'll let you away anyway, so go for it).

Betty Blue and Hot Baby Roy came round and we had a right oul knees up. Well done Fabian. I bought him a new Zentai to celebrate, but it was really an excuse to get myself another leotard - leopard skin this time. Yeah!

OG Loc of the Holylands

When Fabian got back yesterday I didn't have the heart to give him the summons. he was taking Betty Blue off for a romantic weekend. I don't know how he was able to afford it but he said that since he's quit crack and not stopped stealing he's got a nice wee packet tucked away.

Once he left I locked Battle Cat in the kitchen and went round to The Death Owl's with a bottle of vodka. I sat outside on the doorstep for hours and drank the bottle. I was going to smash the bottle over his face. One of his neighbours came out and asked me what I wanted. I told him I was going to kick fuck out of The Death Owl when he came home.

He told me I shouldn't mess with The Death Owl because he was a wierdo satanist and at night he could be heard cackling and going over a load of mumbo jumbo.

I told him I was friends with Fabian Wildman who used to live there. He said Fabian was a no good druggy bastard. I told him Fabian was off the crack now and that he wants to get a job.

He said he hadn't a job either but that he had bought decks and he wanted to get lethal on them so he could play at a rave club. He asked me if I wanted to hear him. He took me in and played a mix of beats. I thought he was bollocks. He started doing all this freestyle rap which was arse bisuits.

It was all:

"yo fly homies, I'm so lonely
got me a gun, gonna shoot yer mum,
my shit ain't wack even though I'm not black,
what yo ass think of that?"

I told him he should hire someone else to do the rap but the beats were good.

Then he started into another freestyle just to show I was wrong:

"One day I'll be on top-o-tha-pops
living my dreams cause they don't stop
you'll be smokin crack wit yo druggy mate
and whinnin about how yo life ain't great.
Are you digging my fly rhymes homie?"

I told him he was the greatest rapper I'd ever heard. He told me he couldn't wait for the next election because he voted DUP and was going to do a song to help Sammy Wilson get re-elected. I eyed him suspiciously because if he likes that daemon then he may be in league with The Death Owl. I make my goodbyes and thanked him for his knowledge (see raps) and left. Then I went to the shop and got a permanent marker and wrote OG Loc on his front door. Then I put the empty vodka bottle through The Death Owl's front window and legged it up the fucking road.

Indie Wank Boy Gets Fucked in the Mouth

I've been dying for a smoke of crack all week and today I couldn't take it any more. I went out to the bin to search for my pipe, to find that the bins had already been emptied. I went in the house and started pacing up and down the living room thinking about how I could get myself some crack and be back here and high in under an hour.

Then I went to the cupboard and found a bottle of Vodka. I thought if I'd a few slugs of it it'd calm me down. I downed it in about ten minutes and felt great for about half an hour then I boked all over the place and passed out.

When I woke up the house was empty and in darkness.

I went across the street still a bit pissed to speak to the indie dick who filmed me pishing through Hooka's letter box.

"What do you want?" he said.

I grabbed him by the throat.

"What do you think you're at videoing me with your phone you wee wanker?"

Some Razorlight rock and rollers came piling out of the livingroom.

"Let go of him bozo," they said.

"Okay," I said letting him go. "I want you to destroy that video."

He started laughing and looking at his mates. I kneed him in the balls and brought my fist up to hit him in the mouth as he doubled up.

He keeled over unconscious. His mates stood there looking worried.

"Any of you wee wankers fancy a taste?" I asked them. They shook their heads.

I went through the wee indie wanker's pockets and found his phone. I found the video on it and deleted it. Then I put it back in his pocket.

"See when he comes round," I said to his mates. "Tell him if he's made any copies he'd better delete them too, because if I find out there's any floating around I'll give him some more of the same."