2001-05-18 - 1:00 a.m.

�One town�s very like another, when your head�s down over your pieces, brother��

Belfast�Oriental city. Hmmm, should I pack my limited edition Papal visit rosary beads? I�m the first to admit I�m woefully underinformed about the Troubles. In recent weeks, people seem to have been set on at random. OK, Catholicism and Atheism I can fake no probs, but Protestantism�heck, I can�t even identify with the Protestant work ethic, let alone expound on the minor tenets of the religion. I guess not straying too far from the lounge bar of the Posthouse Hotel might stand me in reasonably safe stead. Belfast: the view through a swiftly emptying pint of Guinness. There�s a no-risk headline.

�This grips me more than would a muddy old river or reclining Buddha��

Just walking back to the flat at midnight, two guys stumble out of the bar aggressively. As I pass them in the street, one of them mumbles �Cunt�. Now, that�s got to be the feeblest, most desperate attempt to get into any kind of fight I�ve ever heard. What am I going to do, turn round and suggest fisticuffs? Come on, gents, I wouldn�t even detain you for five minutes with a gutful of steroids and a strong following wind. At least pick on a comparable Neanderthal who�s going to make it worth your while.

See you in a few days, sectarian violence permitting.

�Get tied, you�re talking to a tourist whose every move�s among the purest. I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine��

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