19th birthday
Had my 19th birthday while I was at Keele University and, by a happy coincidence, the same day there was a bash on at the student union - I don't recall what the bash was for, but some people were in fancy dress.

Anyway, I got extremely drunk and was dancing with this gorgeous blonde who was wearing nothing but a black bin liner (no idea why), and she had nothing on underneath... we were dancing very close! Cue a fun size mars bar in the front of my pants.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I woke up the next day back in my room at the halls of residence, with the hangover of the century and very little memory of the night before. I did remember the cute blonde though.

I got out of bed... and there, on the floor, was a torn and crumpled black bin liner, with holes for head & arms to go through.

No sign of any naked females. None of my clothes were missing. My solitary condom was still in my wallet. Puzzlement ensued. How could she have got back to where she lived? She must have been stark naked...

For the next few days, I spent ages trying to find out who the cute blonde was, for all I knew she was now up the duff from a fuck I didn't even remember.

Had no luck finding out who she was, or where she lived.

A few days later, one of my mates confessed... That night they had dragged me back, alone, to my room in a paralytic state, and dumped me on the bed. Then, in their evil drunken state, they came up with a great idea for a jape.. namely, to get a black bin liner and a pair of scissors...

Bastards.
( calibrax loves teh hamsters (not in that way), Fri 9 Dec 2005, 12:17, Reply)

I've never had an exciting birthday. It's my birthday tomorrow - honest. It's my wildest dream that I would get onto the "Best" page. Please do your bit to make this one memorable.
(khd, Tue 13 Dec 2005, 21:12, Reply)

The Magic Ring
Seeing as most people seem to be revelling in the bad birthdays rather than the good you can all share my comedy pain. For my fifth birthday my parents hired an entertainer by the name of Sheik Ali Oasis; a big fat man, dressed like an Arab who did magic tricks. I was really into magic back then and, being the precocious little twat that I was, kept telling all my friends that I knew how he was doing every single trick. Of course at one point the Sheik heard me and called me out to the front to prove it. He began the magic ring trick; I'm sure you all know it, two solid metal rings that he would clash together and they'd become magically linked, tadaaaaah etc. So he asked me how he did it, I didn't have a clue. He made me feel the rings to make sure he wasn't cheating (he wasn't), told me to try it and, much to everyone's amusement, I failed miserably. Anyway, he was really funny, I had a great day so didn't mind getting my come-uppance and learning not to be such a pretentious little get.

Now my brother's birthday is only nine days after mine (he's two years older, we're not really freakish twins or anything) but guess who my parents hire as an entertainer for his party? So only nine days later I'm called out to the front again. I protested but my mother gave me the 'ruin your brother's birthday and just see what you get' look. So again I felt the rings, watched him do it, had a go and failed to do the trick again. But he was still funny so I still took it all good-naturedly, if just a smidge embarrassed.

He came to mine and my brother's birthday the next year and the year after that and the highpoint of everyone's day was the inevitable moment when I would be called up for my humiliation. I must have made quite an impression on him, because skip forward ten years and our family was at some fair where he was doing tricks. He actually recognised me in the crowd and pulled me out to try the bloody trick again! Before he even handed me the rings he put his arm round me (now 16) and told the entire crowd this whole story and naturally, they all laughed their arses off at me when I failed again. Curse you crude racial stereotype! Curse you!

However the real punchline only became apparent a couple of years ago. I was reading the local paper when a name caught my eye. The headline read "Local Childrens Entertainer On Sex Offenders Register". Turns out that Skeik Ali Oasis was offering other forms of 'entertainment' to certain children. So there you have it, for a few years, in celebration of my own as well as my brother's birthdays my parents forced me to fondle a paedophiles ring. Beat that!
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sat 10 Dec 2005, 10:20, Reply)

Twenty One Today
I spent my 21st with some friends at Swansea University. Most of the day was pretty nondescript, consisting mostly of drinking beer, stealing traffic cones, etc - general stuff students do in the belief that they're the funniest and most original people yet born.

That evening was spent in the student union bar, where three of my friends independently decided to spike my beer with vodka and keep it quiet. Thus it came to pass that at five minutes to closing time, already an incoherent wreck, I had three pints lined up in front of me - containing seven measures of vodka. I was encouraged of course to polish these off as fast as possible.

I downed them one after the other and turned round to the nice young lady sat next to me, intent on impressing her not only with my drinking prowess but also my wit and charm (which with hindsight consisted mostly of me bellowing "I'm fuckin' twenny one, you.... CUNTS!" at all and sundry)

Except I couldn't even manage that - I faced her, opened my mouth, and promptly projectile vomited all over her.

(NB this was the second time I'd met this girl. The first time we met I, um, was sick on her).

The bar emptied very quickly and I staggered out covered in vomitus intent on eating a kebab - drunken logic here - which I was convinced would settle my stomach. Somehow I bought one, found my way back to my friends' place, and sat down at the table to eat it. I then proceeded to immediately pass out, my face fell into the kebab, I threw up into it, and I pissed myself.

I awoke the next morning on the upstairs landing, stark naked, with a cheese grater in my hand and my head resting on a dead chicken.
.
(Ali Bongo 9000 Ali Bongo 9000, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:21, Reply)

Bit of a roundabout story, but...
So, a few months ago, for my birthday (actually the day before), I was supposed to meet up with a very good friend from the States who was coming over to London just to see me. We were going to meet up in Covent Garden, and he would buy me many expensive drinks. Sadly, his plane never left New York, as one of the passengers had a hissy fit about the terrorist lookalike sitting next to her, and it was grounded. So he calls me to tell me this, and I disappointedly start to trudge back home.

On my way to the tube to begin the hot, sweaty ride back, I was knocked down by a taxi, rushing somewhere stupidly fast. Completely unconscious, and apparently looking quite grave, I was then dashed to hospital in the very same taxi (I found this out a bit later, as I will reveal).

Wake up the next morning in a hospital bed, feeling sore, but generally alright. New scar that wasn't there before. Cast. Nothing too appalling after the initial shock. Person in the bed next to me sees I'm awake:
"Oh, so you're okay. That's a relief. You looked pretty bad".
I look across, and who should it be but Madonna, fresh from her riding accident, recuperating not 4 feet from me. Before this has a chance to sink in, someone else walks into the room and likewise expresses relief that I'm fine. None other than Mr. George Clooney, whose taxi it had been that knocked me down.

Well, not being ones to waste such an opportunity, they got the orderlies to bring in a couple of decks, and Madonna played a few tracks off her then-unreleased album for me, with Clooney singing the accompanying harmonies and dancing like a young John Travolta.

Which was nice.
(cface run. Run, face, run!, Sat 10 Dec 2005, 12:35, Reply)

Terrorists ruined my birthday.
I live in London. And this year for my birthday I had planned a cracking night for my friends and I... Guest lists, oodles of champagne etc etc. I put a whole lot of effort into making sure that everyone had a good time, even booking a hotel for them all to stay in (when I say hotel I mean crappy hostel with fleas).

I was SO excited about it, I've never had a bad birthday EVER. For my 18th I was in Paris, my 11th in Singapore, my 10th Bankok, and many other very memorable times.

My 20th birthday was on Friday 8th July 2005.

On the 7th July, four WANKERS decided that they thought it would be a CRACKING idea to BLOW UP MY BLOODY CITY KILLING TEN'S OF PEOPLE.

Needless to say, not many people were all that keen to come up to sunny London after that.

So thank you very much OSAMA. Among the HUNDRED THOUSAND other reasons that I HATE you, you also RUINED my birthday. You complete COCK.
(Spoil Me please, oh, please, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 11:27, Reply)

My birthdays
have always seemed the same, year in year out; just monotonous with nothing ever happening, no different to any day of the year to be honest.
On my 135th birthday, a bloke let his dog piss on me, and i just stood there and did nothing about it.


Then again i am an oak tree.

sighs and drops another acorn
(nappy rash, Tue 13 Dec 2005, 10:53, Reply)

On my 16th birthday
I sat in Headingley Library doing my GCSE history coursework. Sounds boring! It was fantastic.

I was with a lass who I had been after since I was 12 and she put her hand on my thigh and put her foot between my legs as we tried to work.

I had a semi.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Mon 12 Dec 2005, 23:14, Reply)

every year
on my birthday night i dress up as a ninja and run along the rooftops of london with silent precision in the hope of meeting other ninjas to fight to the death.

then i nip home, get changed and meet my friends for last orders somewhere in hackney.
(bossypops, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:51, Reply)

For my 40th.......
....my wonderful new wife of 6 weeks organized a bit of a do at the pub we all meet at and invited a stack of me mates along, and to get me out the house said she had got tickets for us and a couple of others for the Human League at Newcastle city hall. So off we troop to the Toon to do a bit of stuff and have a bite to eat, her stalling now and then so that we'd get there at the right time so that everybody would be there and ready for us, with me completely oblivious to this. Antway, we'd arranged to meet the others coming to see the League at the pub so that everyone could jump out of cupboards and stuff, surpriiiiise and all that. So whilst Mrs.TP goes to the bar and I went upstairs to find the others before she could stop me. The room was all decked out with balloons and streamers and a "Happy 40th Birthday Dave"( my real name) banner on the wall, so I thought "oh well, we can't go up there, there's a private do on". Back I go to the bar to tell her we'll have to stay downstairs, the upstairs bit is reserved for someones party, whereupon she gives me a bit of a "yeah very funny" look. "No seriously, there's balloons and stuff....". Not once did it dawn on me that the 40th and Dave and the birthday might have been me!! Eventually it sunk in and it was splendid, but if one of my mates was that stupid I'd have had him put down by now,


I am such a thick gimptwat sometimes I despair, I really do.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Fri 9 Dec 2005, 12:11, Reply)

Best birthday ever...
As a young lad my birthdays were normally fairly standard stuff. But on my 14th birthday, not only did I get a whole load of great pressies (a Walkman, a BMX, and four "Game & Watch" games) but I also lost my virginity... in the broom cupboard after class with my blonde 27-year-old English teacher!

My arse did hurt for weeks afterwards though...
( calibrax loves teh hamsters (not in that way), Fri 9 Dec 2005, 11:42, Reply)

30
My 30th was rather good.

I was able to enjoy the wonders of having my wife and kids give me presents/love etc, plus i had arranged for a load of us to go out on a furious bender.

Best to lay it out bullet style i think. Too much happened.

1pm. Presents from Mum. Weed. Champagne. Ferrari driving eperience.
1.30 pm. Stoned. semi drunk. Mother leaves.
1.33 pm. Few lines of coke. Champagne.
1.50 pm. Pub to meet people. Beer.
2.30 pm. Drunk. Meet old friends. Very good atmos.
3.00 pm. Drink, line, chat etc.
5.00 pm. Sick. Go to another pub with friend to calm down. Gay pub. Smoke cig and do line in bog.
6.00 pm. Another pub.
6.30 - 10 pm. Complete blur of good times.
10 pm. Enter club. Due to handy connections, given relative impunity in club. Able to look up ladies skirts.
11 pm. Crack out the mdma. Dancing alone.
11.12 pm. People join me, inspired by my confidence and rubbish dancing.
12 - 3 am. Dance. MDMA. Bob. JD. Probably.
3.20 am. Leave club. Pick up random strangers. Clingers on. Buy E. Probably shouldn't have. Eat it.
3.35 am. Ejected from mates Hotel.
3.47 am. Unload fire extinguisher in other mates hotel. I marvel as the cutlery, menus and crockery is blown off each table in the breakfst room with my wonderful jet gun.
3.48 am. Mates spy my antics and decide we should leave. Wise.
4 am. We all 'transform' in street. Basically lie down but with the transformer noise.
4.30 am. Arrive at my Mums. She's out. there's a bag of leaves on the front door. Puzzled.
4.40 - 6 am. Wind down with Mary.

Satisfied.
(beebolbod for those that are hard of hearing - LISTEN, Mon 12 Dec 2005, 18:13, Reply)

Playing "Catch-Up"
I'm not entirely sure of my age at the time, but I think I might have been leaving the age of 4.

My brother, born on the 9th of January is, technically speaking, just a shade under 2 years older than me, being born the year after but on the 29th of December.

I spent an entire day strutting around, aware of the fact that my brother was six and I had just become 5: It clearly wouldn't be long before I became older than him. My big, wise and old 6 year-old brother realised my infallable logic was correct, and subsequently spent the rest of the day in tears.

I was, without doubt, the happiest little brother alive. :o)
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 12 Dec 2005, 13:39, Reply)

30th birthday
Last year was a fantastically good year for me in a lot of respects, and my 30th birthday seemed like a good excuse for a party.

There's a bar I'm a regular at quite near Disneyland, and it's attached to a hotel so I hired their function room. I hired a DJ/Karaoke, caterers and got my singing teachers band to play. It was costing a lot of money, but I thought sod it, you're only 30 once, right?

The big day arrives, so my husband (boyfriend at the time) had arranged a trip to the spa for me and a couple of my girlfriends, we then had a very drunken girly lunch, and I went off to the hairdressers to have my hair and nails done.
As the hotel had given me a free room (as I was a bar regular), I got dolled up for my big night.

Everyone came, my singing teachers band started playing some lovely jazz and she then announced that if I sang, the band would waive their fee. I'd never sung in public before, but agreed to it. I was terrified, but went down an absolute storm - especially considering I'd never sung with a band, either!

Then everyone got drunk, and did lots of dancing and karaoke and ate lots of food and I got lots of lovely presents! Most of hubby's family didn't know I took singing lessons, and they were gobsmacked! I felt like a queen!

At about 9:30pm, Disneyland did it's nightly fireworks show, so we all went outside to watch the fireworks. It was ace.

At the end of the night, I go to pay the DJ and he gave me half off his regular price as he'd made about $150 in tips!
I went to pay the food and function room bill, and the manager told me that one of the other bar regulars had paid for it!

All in all, it was a great night :)

Then on my birthday this year I got the phone call that my grandad had died. Still partied hard though - it's what grandad would have wanted!
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sat 10 Dec 2005, 18:43, Reply)

Cake Sucks
I don't have much of a sweet tooth so last year my best mate John wandered in singing happy birthday carrying a gigantic pork pie with 26 candles stuck in it.

I instantly asked him to marry me. He said no.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Fri 9 Dec 2005, 11:49, Reply)

spent my 17th birthday
in a childrens ward having a hole drilled into my ankle in the morning

spent the rest of the day being high on morphine, which caused me to be terrified of some hideous spiky and multicoloured monster at the end of my bed.
Turned out it was just a basket of fruit with a pineapple at the peak but it was terrifying at the time.
(Calmallama Is keeping this short and sweet, Tue 13 Dec 2005, 17:00, Reply)

Best birthday
My favourite has to be my 40th when my boyfriend took me to the Lanesborough hotel in London for a very very expensive afternoon tea. The good bit about it, for me, was that the Lanesborough used to be St George's hospital which had a maternity ward some 40 years ago. I was born there.

They didn't remember me.
(BearWithLittleBrain, Tue 13 Dec 2005, 11:55, Reply)

Going Down
I spent my 18th birthday at my girlfriend's house, curled up on the sofa, snogging.

Unfortunately we decide to turn the TV on just in time to catch the football results, and the news that my beloved team had just been relegated to Division 2.

Right on cue, the door opens and in walks the girlfriend's brother, points at the TV, then at me, and goes 'BAHAHAHAHAHAH! HAHAHAHAHAH!' until he runs out of breath.

Apologies for length, but I bet nobody else has had 11 people go down on them on their 18th birthday.
(><(((">, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:27, Reply)

"When I was turning 8, my birthday wasn't so great..."
When you're young, everyone is really jealous that your birthday is in August, slap bang in the middle of the summer holidays and I must admit to laughing heartily when evil parents made their poor children actually go to school on the day of their birthday. However the downside is that everyone's parents book their sunny holidays for the summer when the kids were off.

So on my eighth birthday my parents organise a party at some leisure centre where me and ten whole friends can enjoy swimming and ice skating and baloons and cake and everyfink!!! I invite my favourite ten friends; everyone except my best friend Andrew says they can't come as they're buggering off to France/Spain/Pontins/Mars (delete as applicable). Slightly downhearted I invite my next favourite ten with pretty much the same result. It's now the week before we break up for the summer and I'm so desperate I've given invites to Stinky Stephen the smelly child who wee's himself on a regular basis and two of the teachers. On the day of my birthday, after all the ace presents are opened, I eagerly wait on my driveway for the ten (almost) specially selected guests to arrive for my day of joy and wonder. I was waiting a long time.

My birthday fun was shared by me, Andrew, Stinky Stephen and a girl whose name I didn't know then and don't know now who bore a striking resemblance to The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

It was fucking brilliant!!! Me and Andrew spent the whole day holding them under the water in the pool and then trying to run over their fingers with our ice skates. Bollocks to the cake, the best bit was making Stinky and Quasimodo kiss each other on pain of beatings. Stinky Steven got so excited quite a bit of wee came out. I never remember spending any other day of childhood laughing so much.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Fri 9 Dec 2005, 11:36, Reply)

My best birthday
My first birthday when I popped out of my mothers vagina was quite good I suppose
(fennbot, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 11:14, Reply)

My 40th Birthday.....
Always get a new wife just before your 40th Birthday. Maybe run her in for a year but not much more than that.....

So, 40 on the Saturday, not looking forward to it at all, as you would expect. Friday lunchtime a few drinks with the chaps, well lunchtime until early AM. Woke up early with hangover and was then dragged out to go and pick up the children (from previous marriage). Took them shopping then went home....nothing good so far you might think, and you would be right. As we got back from shopping there was a surprise family party with all the relatives I hadn't seen for years(and for good reason), silly games, sillier drinking. Still a bit pants you might think, and you'd still be right. "Is this all I have to show for it" I was asking myself, where are me mates? Miserable gits.

So......after settling in for a disappointing time I woke up the following morning to find I was being whisked off to spend five days in a castle in Italy..... fantastic suite of rooms, superb wine cellar.... fabuous food, spent five days of self indulgent loveliness. Got back home now feeling well content. Next morning got up to find stretched limo outside front door ; off we go again with some friends to the Chef's Table at Claridges. Those that have been will understand, those that haven't should go. From the age of some of the people here I would suggest spending all of your student loans on going there and just starve the rest of the year. You will thank me later. So 7 hours in Claridges sampling the best Uncle Gordon has to offer including a fairly cheeky 1923 Armagnac then its back to the hotel early evening to be told "Get your DJ on".......whisked off again to find spousey has organised a black tie party in a penthouse apartment overlooking the Thames and the Houses of Parliament with live music, more food and stupid quantities of champagne... everyone was there and I mean EVERYONE dahrling.... party til the early hours then back to suite at the Hotel, into the jacuzzi with a final bottle of Dom then off to bed......... really enjoyed being 40..... its like being 18 but with money :)

still, roll on my 41st.....
( Spackweasel - because weasels get Downs Syndrome too, Wed 14 Dec 2005, 15:52, Reply)

My Birthday
Is on February 29th.



'Nuff said.
(DarthDonsbal, Wed 14 Dec 2005, 2:15, Reply)

Sept. 11th
I, like Captain H's ex, have my birthday on Sept. 11th; so 2001 was...different. Wasn't too fussed though - got a PS2. :D
(Beans goes up to eleven, Mon 12 Dec 2005, 13:57, Reply)

I'm never really in the mood to celebrate it anymore.
My dad died the day after my 21st.

He truly was like a friend and I miss him terribly. I stopped acknowledging my birthday all together for a few years after that. But some gentle coaxing by my mother and loving partner mean I can now have a relatively good time whilst remembering him.

He'd made it out for a night of drinking with me and my mates the day before but had been to ill to come out for a meal on the day. The day after he took a turn for the worst.

The thing is. The night before, when he was out with us, is probably my favourite birthday memory. The night after is obviously the worst.

Sorry to bring everyone down.
( Evil Bastardo, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 15:11, Reply)

Birthdays
My best birthday was probably in 2002. I spent the night before getting mashed up in Sydney, then, on my birthday, caught a plane to Boston to see my then very new girlfriend for the summer.

My worst was probably my 6th. I had a party at McDonald’s. My mum had always told me not to lock the toilet door when I was a young boy. (We had a key lock in our bathroom – I guess she was worried that I’d lock myself in and drown or something).

Anyway, I got an attack of the runs during my party, and had to go for a McShit. Whoever had been in before me had somehow managed to jam the cold tap on, so the basin was full, and cold water was running onto the floor. The cubicle doors were on a swing hinge, so they would open unless they were locked.

All I can remember from my 6th birthday is bawling my eyes out in a fast food ‘restaurant’ toilet, with my pants and shorts round my ankles, thinking I was going to drown whilst some poor 16 year-old was mopping the floor, trying not to watch me move my explosive bowels.

I’m sure the experience was as bad for him as it was for me.
(geegee, Wed 14 Dec 2005, 10:39, Reply)

Do Ex's Birthdays count
My ex's 21st birthday, we were both working in Northern Ireland, her at the large international airport, me at the little City airport for the MOD. I managed to wing a couple of tickets for a weekend in the Isle of Man.
She came down from her place and I made her do a warmer and colder search around the room for her presents, each on getting better. then took her to the airport, where, knowing the staff I had arranged a surprise. I made sure I had the window seat, and after we took off, the captain made his normal speech, then told everyone that there was a young girl onboard celebrating her 21st birthday. The whole plane sang happy birthday, and the stewardess served up the big chocolate birthday cake I had smuggled aboard to everyone.

When we arrived at the hotel in Douglas there was a big bouquet of roses and a bottle of bubbly.
That night it turned from her birthday on 13th Feb to 14th Feb, Valentines day, so I gave her a gold heart locket on the stroke of midnight.

Must have done to much as she asked me to marry her the next day !

Best birthday present she gave me ? the decree absolute 4 years later to the day, slag.
( ratman, Wed 14 Dec 2005, 6:50, Reply)

having a psychotic stepdad helped -
My birthdays were always a little interesting...

My personal worst was when I was 11. I was, as usual, kicked out of the house first thing and told to go and find driftwood for the woodburner.

I went down to where I'd hidden a beaten up old crab pot I'd found that I'd been doing up for about 6 months. I used to love snorkelling, and was planning to use it to catch me some interesting critters to look at. Someone had used it to prop up their boat and crushed it. I was gutted. I went and sat staring out to sea contemplating suicide, which was nice. And when I got home, I was in trouble for not gathering enough driftwood, and made to prepare the dinner. No pressies, of course.

What a lovely childhood I had.

But my wife has made it her mission to make all my birthdays amazing now. Last year we spent a balmy day on Dartmoor with the kids, and this year we went to see "A Midsummer Nights Dream". Hurrah!
(teasus likes tea, Tue 13 Dec 2005, 15:48, Reply)

Most disappointing birthday
Age 22, my then girlfriend gives me a card, a polished pebble which apparently was my "birth stone" (WTF??) and a small, plastic teddy bear.

Then a few days later she dyed her hair ginger....
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 13 Dec 2005, 14:16, Reply)

Birthday.
It is my Birthday on Wednesday 14th December. Let joy be unconfined as I celebrate my 9497th day of being single. Woo sodding hoo.

Edit: 13th Dec. 1 day to go. Still single. Fucksocks.
(MissKittyKate1, Mon 12 Dec 2005, 21:32, Reply)

All of mine have been shit
Except for my 18th. Wahey.
THAT was spent in France. At a karaoke bar. With about 20 ladies and 3 guys from all over England, absolute strangers one and all. We're all closest of mates now...but I digress.
I somehow got it into my head that it'd be a fun idea to go dressed as a pirate. And I did. Sword, eyeliner moustache, eyepatch made from foam I found on the road, the works. Sang my little heart out to Queen, got free drinks as a birthday present and managed to cop off with not only one of the English girls (still together btw, happy ending, woop!) but earlier that evening my face was glued to the obligatory french lass I met earlier that week
Get in.
(Gat Bandish I've got wood in my soul, Sat 10 Dec 2005, 0:24, Reply)