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This is a question The generation game

"Touch my bum, this is life", glowers Richard "Interw3bz" McBeef. I was recently asked "What colour was your hair?", which made me feel well old. Tell us about moments when you realised you were knocking on a bit. Conversely, perhaps you are a sprightly young whippersnapper who is exasperated by the older folks: do tell.

(, Mon 25 Apr 2016, 15:51)
Pages: Popular, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I've been trying to remember for a couple of hours something that I was supposed to remind the other half about.
Eventually I remember and remind her via text. I've just received a reply telling me I was supposed to remind her two days ago :(
(, Wed 4 May 2016, 17:29, Reply)
It's the belly that appears around 30
You can work out for a few weeks in your youth, and it just disappears. Now no matter what I eat, or how much I work out, it's there like a flabby mass, watching me, judging me.
(, Tue 3 May 2016, 21:11, 5 replies)
I heard someone on the radio say that in the 70's
there was "no Internet, no mobiles, no Satellite TV, no American fast food, no obesity and it cost a couple of quid to go to see the Clash". I nodded my head as he carried on, then realised I was my dad. The 70's was a cracking time to be a student in London though.
(, Tue 3 May 2016, 19:48, 1 reply)
Colleagues that were born in the nineties...
and I have to explain to them that I finished uni in the same year they were born.

Oh, and my daughter telling me that I was really getting bald, even more than grandpa...
(, Tue 3 May 2016, 16:02, Reply)
I saw a post a few months back on FB
Along the lines of

When i was younger, I could drink, have a hang over and be done with it. Now i drink get a hangover, its its like ive had minor surgery.

Its true. If i felt like my hangover after having an appendix removed or something, Id be asking for more time off until I felt right.
(, Tue 3 May 2016, 15:49, 4 replies)
when i bent over to pick up a baby toy
and inadvertently said, "oooof."

wtf. where did that come from? fuck off.
(, Tue 3 May 2016, 8:59, 16 replies)
I remember when this was all fields

(, Mon 2 May 2016, 17:24, 1 reply)
My daughter just looks at me blankly every time I talk about the music, tv and films that I like. She is only 3 months old though.

(, Mon 2 May 2016, 14:47, 2 replies)
I was helping out the barman in a lap dance bar, when I met you

(, Mon 2 May 2016, 12:03, 1 reply)
I turned 29 the other week.
I'm far too old to still be posting here.

I was 18 when I joined.
(, Mon 2 May 2016, 11:21, 6 replies)
It does beg the question "who is the oldest B3tan still posting?"
I know I'm a youngster at 54...
(, Sun 1 May 2016, 20:14, 4 replies)
I hope Dr Skagra dies in a fire.

(, Sun 1 May 2016, 15:49, 2 replies)
The Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia
As you all know, my faithful fans and sweetiesze, I am a Time Lord (or rather Time Lady) currently on my ninth (I think) incarnation. I am over a thousand years old and therefore way, way, WAY older than all you cunts (unless there are other Time Lords or Minyans or Eternals etc lurking on here).

But even I am but a sprite, but a stripling, but a Spring chicken, but knee high to a grasshopper, compared to the Ancient Old Ones who dwelleth inside Mount Gurngubble on the distant rocky planet of Ospaccia.

Once, several incarnations ago, I was employed by the Ancient Old Ones to sort out their accounts, which had got rather muddled of late due to their dribbling senility and complete inability to manage any part of their ancient, old lives.

I materialised my TARDIS, disguised as a statue of a big stork, in the Grand Hallway of their lodge deep within the depths of Mount Gurngubble, and stepped out onto a dusty stone floor. Yellow light flickered from malfunctioning glowglobes set into the crumbling ebon walls, which were hung with threadbare tapestries depicting the grave and gormless faces of the greatest and oldest and most ancient of the Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia. Tables and chairs of all sorts of designs and eras from Ribos Rococo to Gundan Gothic were strewn haphazardly around the giant circular hall. There was no sound apart from the sonorous ticking of the most enormous grandfather clock I had ever seen, and the air smelt of old people farts.

There was absolutely no-one there.

I searched for and eventually found what I took to be the reception desk, because of the massive rusty bell that lay across it. I picked up the bell and rang it vigorously. Though rusty, dusty, and, indeed, musty, it made a satisfyingly deafening donging noise that would wake the dead, and rouse the deaf.

I waited, but no-one came.

I wasn’t particularly bothered – I was being paid by the hour, and if the Ancient Old Ones wanted to pay me for standing around in their dim, dusty, fart-smelling reception hall, that was up to them.

Eventually, I began to discern the sound of distant, hesitant, shuffling footsteps, coming from one of the dark corridors leading off the reception hall. I waited, and watched, and at length, Lo! From the shadows did emerge the august, venerable, exalted figure of one of the Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia!

Bit of a disappointment, really. He was just a little bald, old man, in dusty grey robes, shuffling along using what I can only describe as a Chippendale zimmer frame. This figure approached me, a look of intense concentration on his wrinkled old face, grunting with the effort of walking. I could, of course, have easily walked up to him to save time; but, as I said, I was being paid by the hour.

It took about five minutes for the Ancient Old One to reach me, and when he did, he came to an abrupt stop, and gurned up into my face (he was very short), his rheumy old eyes watering, his mouth twisted in a scowl of confusion, pain, and anger.

‘Oo’re you?’ he said.

‘I am Doctor Skagra,’ I replied. ‘I have come to sort out your accounts.’

‘Eh? Oo? Eh?’

I repeated myself.

‘Oh.’ The Ancient Old One turned around and began to laboriously shuffle away, muttering to himself.

‘Should I follow you?’ I called out.

Receiving no answer, I followed the Ancient Old One of Ospaccia deep into the caverns of Mount Gurngubble. After what seemed like hours of painstakingly slow progress through endless dripping tunnels lit only by flickering glowglobes, we came to a wooden door. This led on to a series of wood-panelled corridors lit only by flickering glowglobes, and, after what seemed like hours of painstakingly slow progress through these, we came to another wooden door, with the word ‘Refectory’ emblazoned upon it in faded gold lettering.

The Ancient Old One stopped in front of this door, and turned his wrinkly old neck to look at me with an expression of complete surprise. ‘Oo’re you?’ he said.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I muttered, shoving past the wizened old dwarf. I pushed the door open and stepped through into a scene of utter and complete chaos.

The Refectory was a large wood-panelled room lit with the ubiquitous ancient, flickering glowglobes. Portraits depicting the grave and gormless faces of the greatest and most ancient of the Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia glared down in seeming horror on the scene within. It looked like a combination of a Chimps Tea Party, a Greek wedding and a Viking funeral. Rows of tables were piled high with food, crockery, cutlery and glasses, and at these tables sat the Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia. There were dozens of them, both male and female, and they were all eating, drinking, shouting, screaming, fighting, throwing food, farting, pissing, shitting or singing. The din was incredible. The smell was indescribable. I moved slowly into the melee, completely unnoticed by the Ancient Old Ones, shaking my head in dismay at their atrocious table manners. The Ancient Old One who had met me scuttled past me with a surprising turn of speed and set to a plate of chicken legs with obscene, spluttering ravenousness.

Unsure of what to do, I found a space on the nearest table and sat down, trying not to breathe more deeply. None of the Ancient Old Ones paid me the slightest bit of attention. On the table before me was a plate bearing a Scotch Egg, a Pork and Pickle Pie and a worryingly large number of pickled onions. Beside the plate was a goblet containing a dark fluid. I picked it up and sniffed it; it smelt like engine oil mixed with Ribena. I took a sip; quite pleasant actually.

‘HOY YOO!’ bellowed a voice from behind me, making me spill the drink. I turned to see a phantasmagorically ugly face squinting at me. It looked like a hippo that had been smacked repeatedly in the face with a shovel. ‘HOY YOO!’ it repeated, covering me with spittle and bits of chewed-up food.

‘Can I help you?’ I replied.

‘OOO’RE YOOO?’ the thing bellowed.

I sighed, exasperated. ‘My name is Doctor Skagra, and I am here to sort out your accounts.’

The thing’s eyes gleamed dully with a dim light of understanding. ‘OH AH!’ It turned and shuffled away. ‘Bedder get on wivvit then!’ it growled over its malformed shoulder. I was later to find out that this lumpen, malodorous beast was female, her name was Annafyma, and she was the leader of the Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia.

Of my time on Ospaccia there is, you’ll no doubt be pleased to hear, little more to tell. I dwelled in a small room well away from the dormitories of the Ancient Old Ones, situated in small turret on the outside of Mount Gurngubble which commanded a wondrous view of the barren rocky plains of Ospaccia. I helped out in the kitchens, which was staffed by slaves, who were a good laugh really, a nice bunch. I shacked up with a gorgeous Kantrian babe called Jall and we had a torrid affair which did, I admit, get in the way of my work on the accounts but, as I said, I was being paid by the hour.

After three and a bit weeks I had sorted out their accounts (they were in quite a state!) and bade my farewell to the Ancient Old Ones of Ospaccia. Rather inevitably, as I approached Annafyma to say goodbye she glared at me and bellowed, ‘OO’RE YOU?!’

‘I am Doctor Skagra, and I have sorted out your accounts,’ I replied serenely.

‘Oh,’ grunted the gargantuan matriarch, and went back to the jar of pickled eggs she was drinking.

It was a blessed relief to get the hell out of there and back to my TARDIS, especially as Jall came with me and travelled as my companion for a while, until an unfortunate incident with some Drashigs. But that’s another story.


(, Sun 1 May 2016, 15:23, 16 replies)
A few years ago...
I was telling my daughter (11 years old at the time) about how we were taught our times tables when I was at school by writing them on the blackboard.
She stopped me mid sentence to ask "What the hell is a blackboard?

She was more familiar with White Board technology so I explained that a blackboard was the non electronic equivalent.
"So it was more racist in the 70's wasn't it?" She replied.

(, Sun 1 May 2016, 11:39, Reply)
My father passed away this week
If genetics and family history are anything to go by, I have less than 30 years left. This drives home that because we had a child late, he probably won't know me as long as I knew my father. This makes me regretful, as I'm a pretty awesome dad.

On the plus side, whilst cleaning out the loft, my 50 year old umbilical chord has been found!
(, Sat 30 Apr 2016, 20:15, 2 replies)
I'm losing my hair faster than my father.

(, Sat 30 Apr 2016, 9:18, 6 replies)
Arthritis, lack of sleep, going grey.
Have medicinal marijuana prescription, too stoned to care. Wooooo. Old fart!

Also Ulysses 31 was the best tv show.
(, Sat 30 Apr 2016, 8:36, Reply)
Count Duckula was good.
and so was The Shoe People.
(, Sat 30 Apr 2016, 8:16, 1 reply)
Whats the best way to find your kintype?
Generally speaking, your kintype finds you, and then you recognize that what you’re feeling is being kin.

However, if you’re doing it the other way around and either wondering if you may be kin, or know you’re kin and just haven’t found your specific kintypes, here’s one way to go about looking.

1. Ask yourself what makes you feel like you might be kin.

do you ‘feel nonhuman’?
have image dysphoria/feel like your body/face is wrong?
do you have memories/visions/dreams of another place or people/creatures you haven’t met on earth?
Do you experience sensations like supernumerary phantom limbs (tail? ears on top of your head? wings?) or feel like there are senses you are missing, or abilities you should have but don’t?
Do you experience feelings of homesickness even when in your own bedroom, or feelings of unexplained loss or grief- like there are missing people in your life?
Is there a certain show, character, creature, place in nature or fictional world that you’re drawn to or makes you feel strange and nostalgic?
Do you have other feelings or clues that make you feel like you might be kin?
2. Write down all the evidence you believe points at you being kin, and look for a pattern in it.

3. Analyze that pattern.

do you feel like you are drawn to the woods, and have sensations of a phantom tail? You might have a kintype that is some kind of forest animal.
feel like you’re missing magical powers, and have visions of battling evil? You might be a character from a fantasy canon.
4. Once you have used the evidence to narrow down your search, start looking at different kintypes you think might fit your feelings.

research different animals/characters and see if any of them strike you as ‘right’.
talk to people with kintypes you think might be right and see if you share similar feelings.
5. Continue to research, reflect and narrow down your search until you find your kintype.

Lastly, you must be okay with NOT having a kintype if it turns out you’re not kin. If you have nothing to go on, and no ‘clues’ to what kintype you are, it may be the case that you’re not kin.
(, Fri 29 Apr 2016, 17:58, 15 replies)
I don't feel old
Recently, one of my best friends died of cancer, what came as a shock was the realisation that he was in his early seventies.

My partner is now in her fifties and her son and his wife have a son of their own. Not feeling overly pleased about being grandparents at such a young age, it was pointed out to me that it is twenty one years since I went to university as a mature student, at the same age that her son is now.

Other things that creep up and remind us that we are old, my mountain bike has Deore thumb shifters on it, some younger riders don't know what they are. My Motorbike is now a teenager and is developing the issues that classic bikes start to get! Recently I was complaining to a friend about my failing (now failed) desk top computer, then it was pointed out to me that it was old enough to have had the Y2K problem!

Oh dear. Oh well, maybe it is time to stock up on adult nappies! Fuck that, I am off to play with my Lego and listen to heavy metal, just like I did when I was sixteen (back in the 80s!).
(, Fri 29 Apr 2016, 13:43, Reply)
I've been checking out the most played music in my car
Most of it came out over 30 years ago


Edit. Some of it over 40 years ago FFS!
(, Fri 29 Apr 2016, 8:38, 3 replies)
Never heard of...
Seeing the trailer for "Bad Neighbors 2" and its fuck-head party stuff for 48 ours or so. I can remember when being a Bad Neighbor was blowing shit up, instant backyard inferno's and motorbikes with no plate ridden over jumps and loosing off a few rounds with your friends shotgun at tin cans and bottles or road signs. Try that these days and the Armed Response Unit will turn up. Kids these days are so well informed and watch out for that tweet but so far as I'm concerned, try that again and I'll throw you out of a fuggin window. And they've never heard of Rambo.
(, Fri 29 Apr 2016, 1:04, 7 replies)
I can remember when the Queen still looked fuckable
I miss 2014
(, Thu 28 Apr 2016, 11:42, Reply)
The economies of age
... I buy clothes based on whether they'll outlast me, rather than the way they look.
(, Thu 28 Apr 2016, 9:55, Reply)
I don't want to cause a fuss but, well..
"a member for 11 years, 7 months and 3 days"
(, Thu 28 Apr 2016, 8:07, 4 replies)
Walking out the Brazilian restaurant on Sunday
A load of student khunts decided to do a photo op on the stairs of the restaurant we were leaving, being khunts, they made a lack lustre attempt to move for us. One khunt said 'steady on grandad' as I tripped over their feet.

(, Wed 27 Apr 2016, 15:46, 10 replies)
Doing Cryb Goch on my hands and Knees
whilst kids run past me.

Suppose its all of that I have to risk - mortgages, Cars, Family etc. Scariest thing ive ever done without a rope tied around me.
(, Wed 27 Apr 2016, 14:43, 7 replies)
Someone I was at school with
Recently posted on Facebook about how excited she was to be becoming a grandma.

I'm only 34, so this perhaps says quite a lot about people I went to school with...
(, Wed 27 Apr 2016, 13:25, Reply)
Recently seeing Erica Roe's sagging waps on TV...
...made me feel old. When I was a lad they were a fabulous set of fun-bags that set me off on the road to a life of self-abuse.
(, Wed 27 Apr 2016, 12:47, Reply)
A new factor
I find myself, while considering buying a DVD box-set (or downloading it or whatever), asking myself whether it's actually likely that I'll get around to watching it before I die.
(, Wed 27 Apr 2016, 11:37, Reply)

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