Tell you what, our diary, today was a reet f***** result, I'm telling ya! I just got back from spendin' the day out with our kids, Gene and Lennon, and they said it was best day they've 'ad since that time when I jumped out of a cake dressed in a monkey suit (don't tell 'em that I fell through the f***** thing and just hadn't plucked for a while).
Why was this? Cos I been seein' this bloke haven't I, all about how to bond wiv the kids 'an that. He said that I gotta make some quality time wiv 'em cos... oh, summat about the f***** strain of being a celebrity is hard on 'em and they need to know that their dad isn't just the greatest rock star ever. He's also a dad who - can't believe I'm f***** saying this - loves them an' that. Oh and he's the best rock star on the f***** planet, don't forget!
"What do you mean?" I said, "I do stuff wiv them all the time! We practise flicking V's at folk, laughing at fans an' that, taking the p*** out of our kid, all sorts. Last week I even taught 'em me favourite poses for when the bloody news photographers come round our way." I love paparazzi, me. Especially the spicy one. Anyroad, this bloke said that that's not enough, and I've gotta do more wiv 'em an' that. Cuh! More than I bloody got when I was a kid with our kid and our kid back when we was kids.
Anyroad, so I'm loading up the peoplecarrier and getting the kids ready for what we've called 'our big f***** day out'. It was a right f***** gorgeous day an' all. And we got up so early that our postie was outside when we left. "Lovely morning, innit..." he said. "F*** off! Who you think you are, mate? Givin' it all that? I'm Liam Gallagher, me." And then I took this week's copy of Amateur Politician from him before anyone could see. He's alright is our postie. We get on. Knowwhamean?
So anyway, off we go on our day out. The kids were as good as gold all the way in the car, like. Prolly cos I didn't tell 'em where we was going, I gave 'em a few clues, mind. So anyway, when we arrived outside Madame Tussaud's their little faces lit oop, and they started 'ugging me and cheering. And I got out me little book and crossed out "greatest f***** dad on the planet" from the list.
The kids went f***** wild in the museum! Running round, screaming, flicking V's at people. Bless 'em. We got through most of it in record time an' all, which was f***** sorted cos it meant we could spend even more time in the rock 'n' roll hall of fame bit. I saw our kid, no not that one, our other kid, Noel, in there. But he wasn't talking to me as usual. Must have been something I said, like: "You write the f ***** songs, our kid, and I'll take all the glory, alright? Sorted!" I gave up on 'im after about 15 minutes, and went to check out the other famous folks.
Then I spot him, over in the corner. You can tell it's him cos of his stupid floppy fringe, skinny clothes and that stupid f ***** way he stands, like he's just about to get a smacked arse. I f***** 'ate Damon Albarn, and here he is, dead set on ruining me day. So I goes up to him dead casual like, and stare at 'im for a right long time. Cocking me head from left to right, like Nicole's dog does when I play 'Be Here Now' too much. He doesn't say nothing. Just stares and pouts. So I lamp him one, don't I? And what does he do? He comes straight back. So I smack 'im again.
Next thing I know, right, the kids are shouting at me, and there's all these flashing lights going off. A copper has got 'old of me arm and is "escorting me off the premesis". And bloody typical, all these photographers are snapping away! Luckily, me and the kids go into pose mode, and we looking f***** gear! I saw little Lennon doing a right perfect 'Dead 'Ard' pose, while Gene flicked some sorted V's at the cameras, I was right f***** proud. It was dead, dead brilliant!
Anyway, I'd better go now, cos Nicole's come 'ome and she looks like she's in a right f***** mood!
