Imaginary Batman, Chav Santa and Me. Christmas is a laugh eh?!

So did we all have a smashing and wonderful few days? Did your cuppeth runneth overeth with shiny neweth stuff and shit from family and friends? My own tea stained cup spilled over with splendiferously white and shiny Apple shit. Shit man, I do love my Apple shit. I'm actually running out of "Designed in California, Made in China" products to buy, save for the iPhone which is scheduled to improve my life and make me a better person in March. It will do that wont it, make me a better person and improve my life? I really really need something to.

manuel
off on one of my lovely cycles...
pretending to be Batman(uel)

It's funny the absolute highlight of the xmas period didn't involve any Apple products. It was just me on my bike wearing a long black coat (all coats appear long on me due to my stumpy legs). There I was cycling up the deserted Lisburn Road with the wind puffing out my coat and making it appear more cape like than it really was. Of course this was wonderful for me as I pretended for a moment that I was Batman.

Well you would, wouldn't you?

Fair enough a cheap assed Batman with breathing issues riding on the fantastically named Kona Humu Humu Nuku Nuku Apu'a (it's a real thing!) is an unlikely and somewhat farcical sight. I suppose I was more a credit crunch Batman on my Batmo-bike-mobile. If you will, a 2009 Batman who cant afford to run a proper Bat-mobile due to the recession and the rising cost of Bat juice or whatever it is that makes it go.

I stopped pretending and reigned in my Bat cape as I nearly ran into a group of pished up football/bother fans all bedecked in new tracksuits and kicking boots. I swear on Gordon Ramsay's mother's life each one was wearing shiny new chains and rings.

Tasteful I'm sure.

I mean nothing says I love you and want to celebrate the birth of baby Jebus in the manger more than a shiny gold Glasgow Rangers necklace or Silver Cannabis Leaf bling. I believe they have a different Santa than the rest of us, think an unshaven and drunk Ray Winstone in a red velour tracksuit pishing into your christmas tree and swearing at your little brother and you'll know what I mean. Chava Claus takes more than he leaves and gets everything else from Argos.

"Aye yer bike", says the one with acne like a pop up book of the Alps. I shall call him Craig, or even Craigso. Such is their want to add "so" onto the end of all names, "so" or "sie".

"Aye yer bike hahahahaha", added the rather "special" looking chap I shall call Jamesie.

He stared up at the taller one, possibly a Jason maybe a Gary (Gaz), who had the biggest and shiniest bling, looking for approval or maybe just for a rub of the shimmery swinging pendant. He made no response and this seemed to confuse the littler hoods. So they had another go. I was too close to them now to turn around as I rightly assumed that they would be able to catch me if I did try and make a break for it.

"It's fucking gay, wah!" says Jamesie, again. But this time he got the psychotic belly laugh he was looking for from the lead chav/spide/knacker/ned (take your pick). He was laughing so much he nearly took his hands out of his track bottoms. Nearly.

I was too full of christmas joy and left over beef, we don't do turkey in our house, to be getting into brawls on the street with beered up louts. Anyhoo they would have kicked the thumbs of me whether I was full or not. So I pulled a quick maneuver on the Kona and successfully managed to dodge them. I say maneuver but really I just turned left. But I did it with no small amount of nonchalance so as to make them think I wanted to turn left onto the dimly lit and in retrospect slightly more terrifying alleyway. As I cycled like a manic into the dark and unknown they spotted my man bag.

Crikey!

"Ahahahahaha. What's yer ma doing for a handbag?", they shouted in apparent unison. "He's so fucking gay....FAG BOY!"

Cycle faster Manuel, faster.....into the dark and ominous alleyway that has probably got a drunk sleeping in it and cats shagging. Eventually I came back out onto my own street and home. Seriously I like to think I looked impressive - all Batman like ducking between the shadows and the alleyways. Bet I looked like a peeping Tom/fat lad on a bike up to no good.

Anyway this near death incident meeting with the three wise men from the East, of Belfast, put an end to my Batmanning about and I rode of into the dusk with my coat tucked under my ass. There had been shenanigans at the match and I didn't want to be hanging around to see if the had got all the pent up man rage and anger out of their delicate and easily annoyed systems. I mean as much as I will moan, and I will moan, about having to work on New Years Eve I'd still rather bring in 2009 there rather than by sucking my dinner through a straw in the intensive care unit of my local hospital.

Still I might go out in my pj's tomorrow and pretend I'm Spiderman. Did Spiderman ride a bike? Probably not but what the hell, it's still Christmas.