"The Diary of Liam Gallagher"

Volume Six
Monday
Well, it's time for the Oprah Winfrey show. I woke up this morning, all ready for a good, healthy round of drugs, and found that Guigsy had broken into our room and....disposed of all of them. How did I know it was Guigsy who did it? He was passed out in the bathroom floor. Without my early morning fix, I was pretty jumpy. I dumped Guigsy into the bathtub, left a note so that he wouldn't alarm the maid, and dragged Alan out of bed. I wanted to get to the Oprah show early. I'd heard this old joke once - "What did the narcs find when they looked up Oprah Winfrey's dress?" "Ten pounds of crack." - so I was hoping she'd have a little stash I could borrow. When we got to the show, lo and behold Noel was there. I was ready to kill him, but thought I'd wait long enough to bum some coke off him. "What're you doing here? This is MY gig," I told him, between snorts. "Just thought you'd need a little moral support, that's all. What're brothers for?" he asked through that grin I always hate. That "I'm-here-to-make-Liam-miserable" grin. I didn't have time to argue, though - the show was starting. Alan and I took our seats, as Oprah came out to start the show. "Today on Oprah....Drummers and the Bands That Dumped Them. We'll be talking to a few of these drummers and getting their feelings on this rejection, then hearing the reasons for it from the bands themselves." The audience clapped. "Get a haircut, Our Kid!" yelled someone from the audience. I had a good idea who that someone was. "The first band we'll be talking to is Oasis. Boys," Oprah said, walking over to us, "we have your drummer here today, and he's very upset. He claims he was kicked out of the band because the lead singer is egotistical and jealous." "That son of a..." "Now wait," Oprah cut in. "Let's hear his side of the story first. Mr. Tony McCarroll," she announced, as that punk Tony came walking out. I was perfectly content to be quiet. I lept out of my chair and decked him instead. The show's been postponed til tomorrow, by the way.
Tuesday
So here we are, back at the Oprah show. Guigsy's still in the bathtub in the room, Noel's still in the audience, and now I'm handcuffed to the friggin' chair. Some shite about "violent tendencies," I dunno. This time I let Tony come out unharmed - I was sort of interested in what the arsehole had to say. "Mr. McCarroll," said Oprah. "You were kicked out of this band, Oasis, shortly after completing a very popular album, and before beginning work on a second album, which was also extremely popular. How does that make you feel?" "Well, Oprah," the freak said, trying his best to look forlorn, "it just hurts. I don't know WHAT the guys had against me..." "You're a fookin' loser!" I was prepared to provide him with all the information he needed. "Now, Mr. Gallagher," Oprah said, "I'm going to have to ask you to be quiet and let Mr. McCarroll tell his side." "Yeah, shut the bugger up!" yelled my personal heckler from the crowd. I glared at Noel and sat back. "As I was saying," continued the spaz, "I was a very talented drummer..." "Bollocks!" "Mr. Gallagher! One more interruption and I'll have to ask you to leave." "Yeah, throw 'im out!" yelled Noel. "And you, Noel," I warned him. My patience was running just a bit thin. "I was a VERY talented drummer. Their sole intention was to cut me out of the money that was rightfully mine. I have a lawyer with me today on the show, and I'm prepared to take action to obtain half of Oasis' earnings on BOTH of the albums." "The bloody 'ell you are," I said. Oprah didn't figure that by chaining me to a chair all she'd done was chained me to a weapon, and I was VERY good with chairs. I stood up, lifted the chair, and went after Tony with it. He screamed like the girl he is and went running. "Riot!" yelled the heckler. I decided to change plans and go after HIM. He got away, though, and my chair and I returned to the room. All in all, I'd say it was a gratifying day.
Wednesday
Guigsy finally woke up this morning, and I sent him to the hardware store for a blowtorch and a saw. I don't really trust him around fire or sharp objects, but I had no alternative - Alan was arrested in the riot at the Oprah show, and I had yet to post bail. I figured a few days in jail would calm down any ambitions he might have to be like Tony. You can never be too careful around drummers.... Anyway, Noel called earlier from England. "Enjoyed the show," he said. "You just enjoy it all you want til I get home and kick yer arse." "No seriously, mate. You did a fine job taking care of Tony." I paused. Pinched myself...no, I was awake. Noel had just paid me a compliment. I decided to let him live for now. Guigsy finally made it back from the hardware store.....with a box of matches and a toilet plunger. He's just SO helpful. I suppose I'll be stuck with this chair for at least another day, and in the meantime, I've got plenty of matches for cigarettes, and I'm sure Guigsy'll dislodge that plunger from his face before too long.
Thursday
I guess it's not so bad having a chair attached to your wrist. I'll never have to actually throw one through a window ever again. It's like one of those coins on a string - you fling it through a window, and it comes right back to you, ready to fling again. I always have a handy place to sit down, too. I could get used to this. I've decided against sending Guigsy back to the hardware store - I'll just go myself. Well, slight trouble. I got down to the hardware store, but I couldn't fit my chair through the door. So I yelled at the clerk to bring me a blowtorch and a saw, and the wanker called the cops on me.
Friday
Alan's in the cell next door, which isn't exactly a good thing. "Liam, how could you leave me in here?" "Liam, why didn't you bail me out?" Whine, whine, whine. I swear he doesn't appreciate discipline. Anyway, I used my phone call on Noel, as usual. "Where are you?" "Jail." "Let me guess - you expect me to come bail you out." "Nah, this is just a social call. Of course I expect you to bail me out!" Sometimes I wonder about Noel. He won't be able to come in til tomorrow though, so I guess I'm stuck here for another night. Apart from the strange man who's hiding under the bed over there and mumbling something about killing 37 people, and Alan's whining, it's not that bad a place.
Saturday
GET ME OUT OF HERE!!! PLEASE, PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE!!! It's FINALLY morning, and if Noel doesn't get here soon, I'm going to go insane! Last night was AWFUL! The weirdo under the bed came out and tried to attack me with a Slinkey and bag of Corn Nuts. I had to fend him off with my trusty chair for TWELVE HOURS!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! - Well, Noel finally came. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see Noel in my entire life. Or even happy at ALL. I begged him to leave Alan in, but he wouldn't. We went back to the room then to pick up Guigsy. He'd had the common sense to pull the wooden handle out of the plunger so he could breathe through the little hole. He's rather smart when his life depends on it. Anyways, Noel removed the plunger and we all headed back home. When we got there, my wife Mitsy thought she was going to yell at me all day for causing a scene on television.
Sunday
I found another use for the plunger. Natsy's a lot more pleasant to have around when she can't talk. All of England's talking about what I did on Oprah, and our lawn is once more littered with tabloid photographers. What does the woman have to complain about? All is as it should be. Me famous, her quiet. To celebrate this occasion, I spent an hour opening and closing the door really fast and watching the photographers try to get a picture of me. I got tired of that, but when I stopped, they all started to get really irate, so I just made James sit in the window and let them take pictures of him. Then I went into the kitchen to find a snack. I opened the fridge to find the ghost of John Lennon taking a swim in a pitcher of lemonade. "Hey, Liam!" he called cheerfully. "Want some lemonade?" "Not anymore," I said. "What is it now, John?" "Oh, sure. I come and give you a stupid warning to try and make you paranoid, and you FORGET? Listen to this, then! Beware of the.....because it can......you!" "Wait, I don't like the sound of that," I began, but in a splash of lemonade he was gone again.
Volume Seven
Monday
After making a new pitcher of lemonade, I decided that I would ignore John's warning for now. I reasoned that when I ignored it last time, he came back and gave me more info. So if I ignore it again, he'll probably just break down and tell me the whole thing next time. But I do wish he'd stay out of the stuff in the fridge. It's a little disturbing, sitting down to dinner and wondering what the ghost of John Lennon has and hasn't been swimming in. I told Matsy this, and she suggested I see a therapist. After trying to tell her that I was only concerned for our food's sanitation, and that it can't be healthy to have supernatural beings dancing around in your frozen goods, I promised to visit a therapist tomorrow. I got James out of the front window, much to the disappointment of the press, and decided to call it a day. But when I sat down to watch the evening news, plastered all over every channel was some top story on child abuse at the Liam Gallagher estate. I was outraged - how dare they give my mansion such a boring name as "The Liam Gallagher Estate." The child abuse thing I blew off - just because Ratsy's IQ isn't so high doesn't mean she should be referred to as a child. But this "Liam Gallagher Estate" thing just wouldn't do. I mean, sure I like having my name plastered on my house, but Noel has a much cooler name for his place, so naturally I have to have a better one. Let's see.....his is "Supernova Heights." Mine could be...."Wonderwall Depths." No, that's too intellectual. "Shakermaker Flats"..."Hello House"..."Masterplan Mansion"...At about midnight, I finally settled on a perfect, modest name: "Supersonic Palace of Gin'N'Tonic." A bit lengthy, but I feel it creates a sufficient comparison between my house and a giant wetbar. I'd better get some rest so the therapist won't think I'm loony tomorrow.
Tuesday
I got up around nine (how I'll never know) to find Noel digging around in the fridge. "Hey Liam, did you know..." "Yeah, yeah, Noel, I know. The ghost of John Lennon is in there." He gave me a strange look. "No, your milk is expired. Liam, I think you need to see a therapist." I informed him that I would be seeing one in two hours. "Hey, great! I'll go with you!" I informed him of a rather warm and firey place that he could go to. "Oh, come on, our kid. You know we need some family counseling. Let's get Paul to come too! It'll be fun!" Pondering Noel's sick ideas of fun, I went to call Paul. At 11 we all met up at Dr. Katz's office. "Hello," said the secretary. "Are you here for a therapy session?" No, we're here for an anal probe. What else are you at a shrink's office for?? "Yes," Noel said. "Our Kid here needs counseling." I made a mental note to thank him for that later. We went into Dr. Katz's office. "Listen up, mate," I told him. "I'm gonna be forward with you, there's nothing wrong with us. I'm just here so me wife'll back off, not because I'm psycho or anything. So since we don't have any problems, this shouldn't take long, olright?"
Wednesday
Still here at the shrink's office. I obviously discovered some childhood issues I hadn't delt with. Noel just HAD to bring up that time he set my teddy bear on fire when I was a kid. Anyway, we've moved on to Paul now. "Well, Dr., my problem with them has always been them leaving me out. Ever since they were old enough to talk they've been excluding me from everything they do." Noel, who was contentedly snoring on the couch, woke up. "Oi. Paul? What in the 'ell are you doing here? This is our therapy session, bugger off." Paul signed up for a few hundred more sessions and left. "Well, Liam, now that we're finally past your neverending hatred for Noel for burning your bear, why exactly did your wife suggest you come?" I told him about John. "Oh....I see...now let's review some possible reasons for why you think you see John..." "I don't THINK I see him, I see him. He's sitting on your head right now." And so he was. "Boy, Liam, you're one sick puppy. No wonder you see ghosts," said John. "What is it now, John?" "Just thought I'd stop by to say hello. Haven't thought about my little WARNING have you?" "No." "Oh. Okay. If you think you don't have to. You're right, you're PROBABLY safe....just don't say I didn't TRY..." I hate him. The shrink, meanwhile, was busy filling out prescriptions for me, which I was only too happy to accept. When we finally left, I was a bit preoccupied with John's warning, so I let Noel trick me into doing a spot on MTV's 120 Minutes. So I guess I'll be taking another trip tomorrow.
Thursday
I have just discovered the magical wonders of prescription medication. When the US authorities were waiting for us in the airport terminal for a surprise search, I was the only one not deported back to England, simply because these drugs are in a little bottle with a label. I'm going to have to remember that for future reference. Anyway, all this means is that I'm now going to have to do the stupid spot on the show alone. And what's worse, the stupid show isn't til Saturday. For lack of anything better to do, I decided to go the mall. I've really never had much luck with malls, but Noel the superwanker took my suitcase back to England with him and I need some clothes. I'm in luck, though - there's a buy-one-get-one-free sale in the glu and scented markers department. I've always been a sucker for a bargain. After buying a few shirts and some underwear, I go down to the copy shop and have prescription labels made for each of my markers and bottles of glue. It pays to be prepared.
Friday
I think I'm starving to death. Haven't eaten anything but pills in three days. I decide on pizza. And the first pizza place I come across is something called "Chuck E. Cheese's Pizza." Bit of a stupid name, but I'm not picky. The first thing I notice about this place is that it's overrun with kids. The second thing I notice is the toys. I made a run for the tank full of plastic balls, and after tossing all the little kids out, I settled back to watch the singing bears that were onstage. The next thing I know, this giant rat comes up and tries to grab me. I deck him, naturally, and then all the little kids start crying something about the bad man killed Chuck E. Cheese. I decide to just go back to me room and call Dominos.
Saturday
Finally time to get this interview over with and get back home. After my traumatic experience with the rat, I drained my entire glu, marker and pill supply. Needless to say, I'm feeling a bit edgy when I get to the studio. This big bald guy comes up and introduces himself as Matt Pinhead, or summat. I sit down on a stool and he tells me that I'm supposed to introduce all the videos for this hour, as well as talk a little about Oasis and the new album. I decided to amuse myself by adding a little color commentary to each video introduction. "Alright, Max.." "It's Matt." "Whatever, Max, first up on 120 Minutes is the new video from Green Day, 'Good Riddance.' Which is what I'd like to say to this singer. I mean, he's OBVIOUSLY trying to imitate ME, and if he ever hopes to have any success he'd better get those teeth fixed." I was politely reminded to simply introduce the video and nothing else. "Next is the new video from everyone's favorite girls, Tubby, Zulu, Lesbo, Slutty and Spazzy Spice." I swore to them that I just read the cue card wrong, but they decided that I should let Matt introduce the rest of the videos. I took the opportunity to slip off when noone was looking.
Sunday
I got lost somewhere between 120 Minutes and The Top-Ten Countdown, and ended up walking into the middle of 12 Angry Viewers. And that's not just a clever title, either. After I got away, I decided I needed a little nap before I left for the airport. I found a motor home that looked unoccupied, so I went in and fell asleep. And now, here I am, stuck in here with five geeks, headed for New Mexico. I demanded that they let me off, but they said they were on some stupid schedule and they had to get to New Mexico by this certain time. Welcome to the new season of Road Rules.

"The Diary of Liam Gallagher" is a product of *InSaNe EdItOr PoSsE, iNc.* ©, a subsidiary of KoRn KrEw: ThE sKaTeRz UnIoN ©, and is written and created exclusively by Veralidaine and whatsthestory & morningglory - BBH Editors. ©1997, 1998
BaCk To ThE "nEvErEnDiNg" SeCtIoN or TaKe It HoMe
