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This is a question Celebrations, anniversaries and milestones

Willenium says: I just reached the big 10 on b3ta, so tell us your stories of big date milestones from relationships, birthdays, work and life-changing choices.

(, Thu 25 Sep 2014, 14:19)
Pages: Popular, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I turned 30 on my honeymoon with my wife in Lillehammer in Norway
Why it had to be lillehammer is complex and doesn't really add to the story, so I'll leave it tantalizingly unresolved. But we found ourselves as the only guests in a huge hotel with all the charm of a currys distribution warehouse. My wife asked me what I wanted to do and I said I wanted to go skiing, even though we were tired from travelling. It was snowing heavily when we went to hitch to the local ski hill, about half and hour away. We got a ride with a guy and kind of fell asleep in the back. I think maybe an hour had gone past when I questioned the guy how long to go. He said three more hours. It turns out he was going to a different ski hill somewhere in the north. Fuck it, we thought, lets go there. After skiing we started asking every car in the carpark as they were leaving if they were going to lillehammer. The second last car was, two snowboarders, and they had beer and pot in their little hatchback. I said in my stoned babble that I'd like to see the olympic ski jump, so instead of taking us to the hotel they dropped us on the plateau above the town near the top of the jump. the night was clear, the stars were blazing, and everything was covered in a blanket of snow. We shared the rest of the joint with our arms around each other for warmth, and looked down on the matchbox town below. Turning thirty and only four days married didn't seem so bad. Then I went to a bin and ripped out the heavy duty garbage bag.
We sat on it together bobsleigh style, and rode on our arses at speed down a trail that snaked down next to the jump, spraying a fountain of snow as I attempted to manage our velocity with my feet. (I wasn't going down that jump, you can fuck right off. Have you ever stood at the top of one and looked down?)
It took us right into town (which wasn't big) and we pulled up next to the one bar that was still open. Before we staggered to sleep I raided the hotels basement kitchen and found a whole smoked salmon in the fridge. Anyway, I've had worse birthdays.
(, Mon 29 Sep 2014, 11:57, 9 replies)
oh evillegion. you know that somewhere shambles read that, and his fists clenched, and his veins popped
because he missed it...
(, Mon 29 Sep 2014, 11:52, 3 replies)
Get the cake out folks.
Fathelme's been banned for another week.
(, Mon 29 Sep 2014, 9:01, 14 replies)
My brother i law asked my sister what she'd like for her birthday a few years back. "Ohhhhhh dont worry.... i dont want anything this year" was the casual reply.
Fast forward to the day itself, my sister gets up, bounds downstairs to find hubby eating breakfast.
"So what did you get me?", She asked, beaming.
"Err..... nothing.... "
"No really.. what did you get me?"
"Err... really nothing.... you did say"
Global warmig was reversed for the rest of the week. Never... ever... believe anything a woman says regarding birthdays. or anything else. ever.
(, Mon 29 Sep 2014, 8:31, 2 replies)
639 is my lucky number
i cant wait to celibrate the 639th newsletter
(, Mon 29 Sep 2014, 8:14, Reply)
I remember when my daughter was born
I thought, "Christ, another mouth to feed. Now I'm never going to get that chalet in Val D'Isere"
(, Mon 29 Sep 2014, 0:47, 1 reply)
Best ever celebration in the world..... EVER
Holding your seconds old baby daughter.

Thats all.
(, Sun 28 Sep 2014, 23:13, 7 replies)
Bring back Shambolic
It's only been a few days, but this is all very boring.
(, Sun 28 Sep 2014, 22:43, 186 replies)
I hope Dr Skagra dies in a fire.

(, Sun 28 Sep 2014, 19:07, 7 replies)
In the Court of King Ploptus
Hellooooo sweeetiez!

So, er, um, let's say that 2014 is the -27369th anniversary of the overthrow of King Ploptus, hated monarch of the planet Pharxon, and then we can get on with the story.

Many ages and bodies ago I found myself trapped in the Court of King Ploptus during his final madness, caught up in an insane pageant of diseased ritual and psychopathic observance.

I'd travelled to Pharxon - a peaceful, if rather backwards world - to study its fabled geyser fields, but as soon as I landed I found myself arrested for trespassing and my TARDIS impounded. It transpired that King Ploptus had gone insane, due to excessive masturbation and imbibation of woxboox juice. He had declared martial law, chucked all offworlders off the planet, and sealed himself inside his palace, where he held bizarre court with a grotesque gaggle of unfortunates.

I was presented to this court as an oddity, an alien for the King to do with as he pleased, and was marched into the Throne Room right up to King Ploptus. The Throne Room was a massive, cuboid space with full-length windows on one side giving stunning views of the geyser fields, and portraits of the previous monarchs of Pharxon on the other. These had all been defaced, the words 'CUNT', 'ASSCLOWN', 'PEADOE' etc scrawled all over them in luminous pink paint - the work of the insane King Ploptus, I was later to learn.

The Throne Room was littered with numerous pieces of torture apparatus - here an iron maiden, there a rack, here a mare of steel, there an oubliette - and also sexual apparatus - here a doginator, there a bricing post, here a raping bench, there a rimming swing. The air was thick with the smell of blood, sweat and semen, and rang with the cries, moans and groans of the unfortunate souls trapped within the various devices of torture or pleasure.

I must admit I was terrified, my mind racing, imagining what painful indignities I would be put through, and dreading having to regenerate my way through the rest of my incarnations on such a place. Averting my gaze from the twisted, glistening victims of the madness of King Ploptus, I gazed up at the ceiling, admiring the intricacy of the decoration. Then I was thrust down on my knees before the giant golden throne at the far end of the room, on which sat the lanky, corrupted figure of King Ploptus.

The throne itself was blinging, to the max - imagine the sort of thing Kim Kardashian would sit on to paint her toenails, then multiply it by a factor of Lady Gaga.

King Ploptus was a giant of a man, lanky and bony, clad in purple velvet, sporting golden boots and a vast billowing ermine cloak. His head was bony and round, with tiny eyes blazing from beneath beetling brows, a long thin nose, and a cruel, wide mouth above which grew, incongruously, a Basil Fawlty moustache. He had big, protuberant ears, and his thin black hair was greasy and lank, sticking out from beneath his golden, bejewelled crown.

King Ploptus fixed me with a chilling leer which made me shiver in dread. 'What have we here?' he crooned. His voice was high and squeaky, totally at odds with his massive frame. 'The last alien on my beloved world! What shall I do with it, eh?' He stroked his chin with a massive hand, as I desperately tried to figure out a means of escape - but there were none.

'I know!' cried King Ploptus, leaping to his feet. 'You can be the new Banger of the Bum Drum!'

His words swirled around my head as I tried to figure out what this meant for me. As I stood quaking a skinny old man in rags was brought forward, a toy drum on a strap around his neck. He was carrying a drumstick and babbling away, clearly terrified. He was thrown at the golden-booted feet of King Ploptus, where he voided his bowels noisily. 'But I am the Banger of the Bum Drum!' wailed the old wretch.

Waving his hand to dispel the smell of faeces, King Ploptus trilled, 'not any more you're not,' and snapped his fingers. Immediately, two guards darted forward and chopped the old man to pieces with their swords. His gurgling death shrieks were horrible to hear.

King Ploptus bent down, extracted the stick and drum from the mess, and handed them to me. 'Here you are,' he said. Numbly, I took them from him, put the strap of the drum around my neck and began to beat it hesitantly with the stick.

King Ploptus frowned thunderously - a terrible thing to see. I farted in fear. 'No, not now, you idiot!' He shoved me away. 'Go and stand somewhere I can't see you. You'll be fetched when it's time for Little Chadderleigh's next playtime!'

These cryptic words ringing in my ears, I retreated to the furthest corner of the Throne Room, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I could not escape - even if I made it out of the Throne Room past the armed guards, Ploptus has spirited my TARDIS away somewhere on his dankest and claggiest dungeon. So I was stuck, and not in a nice place at all. Wherever I looked, I could see people being tortured or raped or both at once, so I wandered over to the tall windows and gazed out at the geyser fields, sighing to myself.

After a few minutes I realised that someone was standing behind me, and turned round to see King Ploptus looming over me. My heard began to hammer in my chest and I gripped the drumstick. I would soon find out what my duties as Banger of the Bum Drum entailed.

But King Ploptus waved me away and pointed out the window to the geyser fields. 'Beautiful, aren't they?' he crooned, his voice soft and hushed.

I nodded and gulped.

'I used to play amongst them when I was a little boy,' said King Ploptus dreamily. 'I would toss live piglets into the geyser holes, and laugh at their death screams. I got my first erection doing that.' He sighed at the memory, then turned from the view to glower at me. 'If you displease me, Banger of the Bum Drum, I will do the same to you, and feed your scalded body to the dogs!'

'Y-Yes, Sire,' I stammered. 'I - I will do my best to please you.'

'Excellent!' cried King Ploptus, clapping me heartily on the shoulder. 'Why don't we put you to the test right away? It's about time Little Chadderleigh had another good seeing-to.'

He led me across the throne room to a large circular area, a sort of arena of parquet, around the perimeter of which sat dozens of immense, muscly, oiled dark-skinned men, completely naked save for the animal masks they wore. In the centre of this circle stood a wooden vaulting horse, upon which was strapped, face down and rear exposed, a pale, skinny youth.

King Ploptus guided me through a gap in the circle of naked men and propelled me gently towards the helpless figure, which began to whine and moan through the ball-gag in his mouth as he saw us approach.

'New Banger of the Bum Drum, meet Little Chadderleigh.'

'Hello, Little Chadderleigh,' I said, bending down so my face was level with that of the unfortunate youth. As well as the ball-gag, there were bulldog clips on his ears, and his nose bristled with the heads of numerous shiny silver pins. His head had been shaved and the words PLEASE BUM ME inked onto his bald bonce. Little Chadderleigh made some inarticulate noises and strained at his bonds as I looked into his pale blue eyes. I will never forget those eyes. They seemed to fizz with terror, they were the eyes of a thing at the very edge of its tether, staring out at me from the other side of a yawning chasm of insanity.

'Now look at his bum!' said King Ploptus eagerly, so I obediently moved round to gaze upon the poor boy's rear. His anus was a gaping round dark O fringed with crimson flesh. Dried blood caked the youth's upper thighs and the surface of the vaulting horse. As I watched the gaping O clenched and spasmed, as if aware it was being observed. Meanwhile the surrounding circle of dark-skinned, masked men had started muttering to themselves in guttural, eager tones.

King Ploptus tapped me on the shoulder. 'Banger of the Bum Drum! Commence.'

I didn't really know what was expected of me, but I made a guess - luckily for me, it was the right one. I straightened up, gripped my drumstick, and began to bang the Bum Drum, slow and steady.

On the very first beat Little Chadderleigh emitted a gurgling wail, and liquid faeces spurted forth from his ravaged ring, splattering on the parquet floor and mixing with the bloodstains there. At the same time, the circle of naked men leapt to their feet and began chanting in time to my drumming.

'BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM!' they chanted, whilst stroking their immense erect penisis with greased fists. 'BUM! BUM! BUM!'

All eyes were on King Ploptus whose hand was raised above his head. Suddenly he brought it down in a swooping motion like someone waving a starting flag. At this signal the dark-skinned men began to ululate wildly and one of them scampered forward and slid his erect penis, all eight glistening inches of it, right up Little Chadderleigh's ass. He fucked the boy savagely, brutally, and roared as he ejaculated fulsomely deep within the unfortunate youth's innards. He then slid out, panting, and the next one took his place. All this while I kept banging the Bum Drum, unable to tear my eyes away from the sordid spectacle unfolding before my eyes.

'BUM! BUM! BUM!' chanted the masked men. 'ME NEXT! ME NEXT! BUM! BUM! BUM!'

Little Chadderleigh's ordeal went on for hours, until all the dark-skinned masked men were spent, and sat lounging in a circle around the ravaged body of the youth. My arm was sore from all the drumming, and I quailed as King Ploptus regarded me critically. 'Good work, my man!' he crowed, to my immense relief, and I wandered over to the windows to gaze upon the geyser fields, wondering whether a boiling death might not be preferable to my current situation.

Things carried on this way for about two months - I alternated between watching the geysers, sleeping, eating (we were all fed well, including Little Chadderleigh) and banging the Bum Drum.

One day, things changed quite radically. I was summoned to my usual Bum Drumming duties, but, instead of the usual ritual of buggeration, King Ploptus ordered two of his guards to release Little Chadderleigh from his bonds. This they did, and the youth, emaciated, bleeding, and barely able to stand, was brought before King Ploptus.

The King unsheathed a dagger, and held it out. 'Go on, Little Chadderleigh, take it,' he cooed.

With shaking, trembling hands, Little Chadderleigh took the blade.

'Now, boy, kill me!' shouted King Ploptus. 'Come on, KILL ME! You MUST hate me!'

Little Chadderleigh began to sob and splutter, and piss himself. He spoke what must have been his first words in untold months. They were also his last.

'I love you, King Ploptus!' shrieked Little Chadderleigh. He drove the knife into his own stomach, and dropped to the floor, bleeding to death at the golden-booted feet of the monarch.

King Ploptus snorted in derision, booted the body, and walked away, seemingly bored.

I wondered what this meant for me, Banger of the Bum Drum, when there was no bum to be drummed and bummed - but my worries were short-lived, as another youth was quickly lashed into position, his screams soon stifled by the insertion of the ball-gag.

The end, when it came, came quickly. Rebel forces stormed the Palace and quickly overcame the few still loyal to King Ploptus. I was instrumental in this revolution - I was the one who let the drawbridge down to allow the rebel forces entry, and so my life was spared.

King Ploptus was brought before General Azeeb, self-appointed new ruler of Pharxon, and told that the sentence for his crimes was death - sentence to be carried out immediately.

King Ploptus stood before his captors, a sneer on his big round face. 'Suck my cock.'

Those were his last words, as straight after them he was shot in the head and died instantly, his blood mingling with the bloodstains and the sweat stains and the semen stains on the parquet floor of the Throne Room.

And that was the end of the reign of King Ploptus.

General Azeeb thanked me for my assistance, helped me find my TARDIS and I was soon on my way, after a much-delayed look at the geysers. I could not help but imagine the young Prince Ploptus tossing shrieking piglets into the scalding waters.

I never returned to Pharxon; last I heard, Azeeb had things running pretty well. Good for him.
(, Sun 28 Sep 2014, 19:01, 16 replies)
August 10
would have been my 29th wedding anniversary with the mother of my kids.

I curled out a Richard the Third in memory.
(, Sun 28 Sep 2014, 10:40, 12 replies)
At my grandads surprise 60th birthday
I was about 12 and ate so many chicken legs and drank so much fizzy pop that I decided in the middle of the dance floor to puke my guts up.

I puked so violently that stood there in the middle of lots of old women on the dance floor I also managed to shit myself.

I stopped short of pissing into my own mouth.
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 21:31, 2 replies)
I've had a
bout of food poisoning, and I'd like to share the fact that I've had my first solid bowel movement for 8 days.
Now that really does call for a celebration.
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 19:00, 5 replies)

(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 18:48, 6 replies)
I like to play Jenga on the ninth of November.
Does that count?
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 16:24, 2 replies)
So, what's the straight poop on our ringo-baiting 'Friend from Cambridge'?

(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 15:04, 10 replies)

(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 14:14, 6 replies)
Celebrating 'mod edits'
Removing things 'for everyone's sake'. I won't forget this act of protection. Bless you.
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 13:03, 2 replies)
Celebrating the gaz I just got from Dr. Shambolic.
[mod edit: yes it's creepy, but we're removing this for eveyone's sake]

Cause that's not creepy or threatening in any way shape or form.
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 9:21, 33 replies)
I've never been a big fan of them. Marking the day you got pushed or pulled out of your mums vagina, nevermind the getting cut out of her body in a mad rush designed to save both you and her. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.
The birthdays I've celebrated -

7. My mum bought me a Barbie and an Action Man with his Helicopter.

She was confused when I superglued some under-carpet fibres onto Barbie's snatch. I was actually giving Action Man a real lady to play with rather than some frigid, plastic ice-bitch with no vagina. Either that or clearly my mum didn't keep her lady garden trimmed.

13. My mum threw me a party. Loads of friends and classmates. A rocketship cake. My mate Jeremy told me that he liked my amour de jour - Buffy . What a cunt!
Buffy eventually snogged me. Days later she'd snogged him. Fucking bitch.

18. Went to a holiday house with the then girlfriend. She broke up with me on the night & tried to commit suicide by overdosing on paracetamol. IPECAC is a bitch. Srsly, Panadol?

21. Me and one of my best friends sat on the edge of the river near my flat, drank a six-pack and contemplated the universe with a fucking massive spliff.

25. Girlfriend of the time organised a surprise party (since she knew I hated b'days). Got to her place after work. Mumbled something about how fucked my day was and crashed on her bed cranking some Frontline Assembly as I defragged from work. After a while gf came and asked me if I wanted a drink. Coaxing me out of her room I got the "SURPRISE" from all of our collected friends, acquaintances and sundry. Within 5 min. I'd had 2 lines of speed, several spliffs, a couple of trips and an E thrust upon me (90's dude!). We played naked drug twister later that night (they'd stapled some colored plates to a square of old carpet) and I remember a magical walk through the cemetery they lived across the road from with my best friend. Got to take my housemate to her dialysis the following morning - both of us wired to the fucking hilt.

33. The missus and kids went out a-visiting. I was left at home to wank and drink myself silly. My mum rang. She was disappointed that she wouldn't be seeing me on my b'day as it would be the first b'day that she hadn't spent with me or seen me at least. I told her I couldn't be fucked going to her place and to leave me be. Less than 11 months later the cancer in her body and brain had killed her. Oh well.

41. (Last year) Had a few people turn up on our doorstep. I asked them what they wanted. When they said it was about my birthday I told them I was non-practising and they could all go home.
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 8:46, 6 replies)
I turned 40 some time ago
There was probably some sort of recognition, but I'm fucked if I can remember what it was.
(, Sat 27 Sep 2014, 1:31, Reply)
Celebrate more violence on the bad MUSSIES (ISIS fucks) - OUR BOYS WILL SORT 'EM OUT

(, Fri 26 Sep 2014, 21:29, 10 replies)
I haven't celebrated the fact I have recently discovered I am going to be a father
Because apparently you have to wait 12 weeks or some shit.

Until that time it isn't really real.
(, Fri 26 Sep 2014, 18:26, 18 replies)
I, like many others evidently, am not a big fan of these compulsory birthday rituals in offices.
Many years ago, I was working as a temp in some office somewhere doing a non-job. I was only there for a couple of months, and so when a birthday card came round, for someone in the office I had never met, I politely declined to sign it. The woman organising this gesture looked at me like I'd just suggested liquidising a newborn baby, and so I caved in and signed it with an empty platitude. She then left me with the card and instructions to pass it round the office. Of course I then wandered round the corner and gave it to the birthday boy to sign, ranting about how the whole thing is fucking stupid and I don't even know the guy.
(, Fri 26 Sep 2014, 16:47, 71 replies)

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