By Hunter Carson.

After my usual breakfast of porridge and Prozac, coffee and

Codeine, I knew it was going to be one of those days. Ever wake

up on the wrong side of bed? I woke up on the wrong side of he

Universe. Still, I have to try and induce some random acts of

kindness in Belfast today and with my face it wont be easy.

I had managed to sneak in two painful pints of Guinness

before I was given a bib and a bucket to do the Christmas charity

collection for my new job. I was in two minutes and ready to go

back out again when my team-leader called me over. Normally my

co-worker and I have a conversation two-step where she has one

foot ready to run at all times but today I couldn’t wait to get

away from her.

“Here you go Danny. You can go outside City Hall for us. Big

responsibility” - my cheery, charity chum, full of the Christmas

spirit laughs.

“On my own? For how long?” Is this trust or punishment I wondered.

“It’s only for two hours. Sure you’re a big boy. You’ll be grand.”

Me, stuck outside the busiest place in town on my own freezing

my nuts off to help save the world?

“Sure no problem, back in a cold tit” I mumble.

She smiles her nice goody two shoes smile and sends me off.

me if I don’t keep topping up. Thankfully the Continental

Christmas market is open in the grounds of City Hall. £3.50 for

an Irish coffee. Some wonderful whiskey and cream in a nice

plastic-cup. No one would know except me and I don’t give a fuck

at the minute. I take my place outside City Hall and hope

I look just fucked up,yet nice enough that people will take pity

on me to donate and not too fucked up that I look like I’m going

to flee and spend the cash on hard drugs. Maybe some tidy yoke

will smile at me instead of the usual samurai eyes I get. The

one’s that look at you like they want to run an ancient blade

through your soul with a flick of their eyelashes. None of them

yet but a trickle of people come along and stop and through some

spare change my way. This could actually go well I think. But

one Jesus-freak has to spoil all the fun. I didn’t

even see her set-up all the gear. She just appeared with a small

speaker and microphone and started screeching about

the‘Laaaawwwwwd’.

“You slobby,shopping,Sinnnahhh’s. You don’t know the real

meaning of Christmaaaaaaaaaass”

This is the last thing any cunt needs to listen to, especially

me. She has a big voice for a tiny black lady. She

looks like a weirder, female version of Bob from Twin Peaks with

her big shock of white hair. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t have

two cats stuck in her trenchcoat to add to the wailing. She has

to be some sort of failed Nun. Everyone is giving her the major

bodyswerve and the donations are drying up. I need another Irish

coffee forthis fucking about.

Holy Spirit isn’t the only sound of craziness in the air.

Two young winos wearing standard issue, seasonal shell suit

attire are dancing in front of the preacher. One is doing

star-jumps the other is attempting to entice her into a demented

tango. They are giving her awful bad manners screaming terrible

things like “My testicles wanna Testiiiiiiiiiiiffffffyyyyyy”

and “Jesus was a cunt. I never got a PlayStation last year, what

has he ever done for meeeeeeee”. If I was walking past normally

I’d laugh and do sweet fuck all about it like most people. But

the whole scene looks wrong. I feel sorry for the lady, she doesn’t

deserve this amount of abuse. I’m hoping some by-stander will

come up and do something or at least some psycho out with his

kids who can’t handle the racket. But no-one is manning up. Shite.

It’s going to have to be me. Why? Lord Why? I really can’t be

arsed with this. Where’s the cross eyed Hari Krishna that stopped

me last week when you need him?. I’d pay good money to see him

stop these two.