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This is a question The B3TA Confessional

With the Pope about to visit the UK, what better time to unburden yourself of anything that's weighing on your mind by posting it on the internet? Pay particular attention to the Seven Deadly Sins of lust, greed, envy, pride, posting puns on the QOTW board and the other ones. Top story gets to kneel before His Holiness's noodly appendage, or something

(, Thu 26 Aug 2010, 12:47)
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To my ex...
That time when we shagged like rabbits on your couch the night before it got taken away & replaced with a new one, & just before we went to bed I bent you over it to give you one more seeing too for good luck, & afterwards you exclaimed in mock horror "I can't believe you just fucked me up the arse"! & I gave a cheeky nod & smile... I never once realised it was in your arse!!!

You slack arsed Twat!
(, Mon 30 Aug 2010, 0:36, 6 replies)
Just spent an hour playing this
On company time...

play.typeracer.com/
(, Mon 30 Aug 2010, 0:00, 3 replies)
To all those guys
.. who used to try and start cyber sessions off in various chatrooms.

Remember when you asked "What are you wearing right now" - and I replied "I'm wearing the flayed skin of an ex lover, peeled from his body while he was still alive and screaming."

I wasn't.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 23:44, 3 replies)
epic tale of a Czech boy
Growing up I lived in a tough neighbour hood. Like really fucking tough. I didnít know anyone who didnít carry a knife. Or anyone that wasnít in a gang. People think gangs are a lifestyle choice - they are not. You just get swept up and carried along. Sometimes fantasy and real life blurred at the edges. But this was the cold reality of my existence and there was no escape from it. I looked up at the same sky as everyone else but we were shit poor. I didn't ask anything of anyone. I learned quickly to accept the ebb and flow of things. Some of the times we had were great others were the lowest points of my young life. I learned to just go with it, whatever happened Ė to be honest I didnít give a fuck about anyone or anything.

Until that is, the day I had to break it to my mother I had committed murder. She couldnít accept it, simply refused to believe it. The worst part was when she demanded to know how I had killed the poor bloke. Having to tell my own mother I had shot another young man at point blank range is still to this day indescribable. He died instantly of massive head wounds. Pulling the trigger was simple, but I hadnít any idea of the consequences. She was distraught. She told me I had thrown my entire life away. I have never seen anyone cry with such gut-wrenching pain. I didnít want this for her. I didn't mean to make this happen. I did to do the only thing I could. I ran. The following day i was gone but my mother had to try and pretend she knew nothing of this terrible thing and continue life as normal.

But all too soon the game was up. By the time i was caught i was in a terrible state, I was petrified and every part of my body ached. I waved goodbye to my life, my mother, I didn't want it all to be over but frankly by this time I wished Iíd never even been fucking born.

In court I looked at the judge, a little thin wisp of a man. He was a joke, a fucking buffoon. We danced around the whole stupid legal process. Being in remand was terrifying. The first night in prison there was a huge storm, thunder scares me but the banging of doors and the clatter of hundreds of other men terrified me. All at once my place in the gang Ė the security of it meant nothing. I was just another dirt poor fucker trapped in a hole. My family was skint, there would be no fancy lawyers to come save me from the inevitability of the situation. But my attitude was still Ė who gives a fuck?

Clearly there was no way out of this one, but then, on a technicality I got off. Reluctantly they let me go, well got off for now that is - if there is a Hell then there is surely a place set aside for me.

You can think what you like of me. Some people call me scum others just turned their backs on me. But when it comes down to it I have realised in this life that if you look closely enough, nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters to me.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 23:41, 24 replies)
B3ta, you have broken me
I have started trolling in real life.

The other night me, my mum and dad got together to welcome my little brother home from 6 months travelling. No sooner than he'd been two minutes through the door he and my mum were jibber-jabbering away to each other nineteen-to-the-dozen, about this person and that person and the other person, because my mum and my brother used to work together.
This went on for half an hour, they wouldn't shut up, and me and dad just looked at each other, rolling our eyes because we couldn't get a word in edgeways while the other two were talking shop.
In the end, I broke. I very loudly, very deliberately started talking to no-one in particular about my own job. I shouted very clearly all about the latest TLS and AVB reports I'd been working on, I conversed with myself enthusiastically about how much our Aberdeen branch had exceeded it's latest targets, but that sadly Cardiff were lagging behind.

That shut the fuckers up, I can tell you.
it may have ruined the rest of the evening, and marked me as an outcast in my own family, but it was worth it
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 22:49, 10 replies)
My washing machine has a setting labelled "coloureds". Is it racist?
is the basic premise of the email I've just fired off to Hotpoint in an alcohol-fuelled air of mischief.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 22:12, 8 replies)
Gran
This is a cathartic effort (so not many funnies on this one folks)

I was with you when you died today in the hospital, you had been sick for a few years and although i didnt see you much in the last few years i remembered you often.

My confession is that the last few rare times i did see you it broke my heart to see you old and sick in constant need of my mum cleaning you, it hurt to not see that superwoman again but someone who was slowly eroded by time crying in the night in pain and confusion, i didnt know what to do.

I remember when i was mid teens in and out of prison, you came to the court when no-one else would and begged the judge to let me live with you instead of sending me down again, i stayed there in Birmingham for a year and sorted my head out, playing scrabble with you and listening to stories of you growing up during the war and raising children in abject poverty and performing fire warden duty on top of buildings while bombs fell around you, without a complaint or hint of self sorrow, it made me grow up a lot.

I remember that allotment you had where you taught a council house kid to grow veg and what a real home grown tomato tasted like.

I remember you telling me that in life it doesnt matter how many times people bring you down as long as you get back up.

I remember you giving me my childhood back,when i was being bad you took the shit i gave you and slung it back twice as fast.

I remember you teaching me how to play darts and pool.

I dont often cry Gran but seeing you there lifeless was one of the most surreal times of my life.

Tonight you live on online and in my heart.

RIP
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 21:26, 8 replies)
I'm ashamed to say
I've never given B3ta one dollar, pound, euro, or any other form of any currency. I lurked for a year before ever signing up. I keep saying I'll donate but never do.

This is something I'm sorry about. I'm not sorry for raping that old lady behind the Ikea
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 20:48, 6 replies)
There was a workman in the bathroom yesterday.
Not wanting to turf him out while I went for a shit, I drove to Sainsburys. I didn't buy anything. I felt like Al Capone.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 20:19, 4 replies)
Actual confession
Contrary to popular opinion, I quite like the blacks, the hard-working ones especially, and I do think that we in the West are obliged to help Africa with aid because we're responsible for all the terrible things that are happening down there.

BUT

Once, while being served at some restaurant by a 'gentleman of colour', and being quite thirsty, I told him not to be 'niggardly' with the port. He didn't get the joke! Oopsie!
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 18:49, 18 replies)
I had two Irish flatmates called Con Fesh and Niall, who insted on being known as Nal.
Sadly, me and Nal had a falling out over A Girl and he left our shared house to move in somewhere else, inviting Con along with him, an act I felt was beyond the pale and urged Mr Fesh to boycott the now persona non grate Nal.
I'll always remember saying to him 'Con Fesh, shun Nal'.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 18:26, 15 replies)
More secret revenge
I was a warden in the halls of residence at uni, I didn't like it much but it was free rent for doing nothing most of the time. Until some wee arsehole started playing up and generally ruining the equilibrium.

He was getting right on my nipple ends through various idiotic acts, stupid shit like emptying all the fire extinguishers on a weekly basis. Occasionally fair enough, but every. Week. Even though we all knew it was him I could never prove it and had to take the money out of everyone's deposit; cue moaning. He was also one of these repulsive bullies who systematically victimised the introverted kids using the guise of cameraderie. I could go on and on about his various acts of malice and idiocy...

I decided to take covert action. I took a shit in a carrier bag and stuffed it down between his radiator and bedroom wall when he was in class. You know the heating in halls - perpetually turned to bake. I know this is probably a slightly mental thing to do, worth it though. Even walking past his door would provide a nutty waft of poo. After a few days I checked and the turdbag was undiscovered so I retrieved it.

I told no one, but replied to everything he said to me after that with 'Yeah, well you smell of shit.' Je ne regrette rien.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 18:08, 2 replies)
Bless me father for I have sinned. It's been 8 years since my last confession
8 years is a long time. A long time is a lot of sin so I'll just cover my cardinals for today

Lust

Morning wood= youporn time

Gluttony

I had two breakfast this morning- cereal and toast. I then had two lunches- falafels and a sundried tomato pastry thing. I'm currently making dinner, I may well have a second.

Greed

I went into work an hour early today even though I didn't really want to because I quite fancied an extra £5.85

Sloth

I've been lying in bed for a bout 2hrs now

Wrath

American (in the UK): 'I'm not paying a dollar for a bottle of water again so where is the water fountain?'
me: 'the bottles of water in the shop cost one pound actually'
I don't understand why American tourists are so inherently annoying- any other nationality and that wouldn't have bothered me

Envy

As I went into work nightshift were leaving. I wished I was back on nights, they have much more fun working in a big group.

Pride

I refuse to accept that pride is a sin. I'm fucking fabulous, it's a fact.

It's so easy to get your 7 a day, if my 5 a day were so easy I'd be uber healthy.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 16:45, 1 reply)
About eight or nine years ago
I was working with a group of lads cleaning windows. We worked all over the local area, and one day we were cleaning the windows of a large house owned by an ex teacher of mine.

It was a typical old sandstone house, massive and with huge, awkward windows. It also sported a quaint little outside toilet tacked on to the side of the building. I'd noticed it before, the little door with "toilet" written on it, but had never peeked inside.

This particular day, though, my back teeth were floating. I was bursting. I knew I would never be able to hold it until we got somewhere I could use a toilet, but I'm not one of those folk who can just drop the strides and pish anywhere (not when I'm sober, anyway), and I thought it would be quite rude to ask one of the customers if I could trail my muddy feet through their house, so I had formulated the plan that I would nip in to outside cludgy when we got to the big house.

I checked no-one was looking and tried the door. It was open, and I could see the beautiful sight of a porcelain throne through the crack. I sneaked inside and shut the door, popped the porridge gun out and pointed at the water. But there was no water. A quick peek round the back confirmed that the shunky wasn't, in fact, plumbed in. It just sat there, laughing at me. I had no choice.

The piddle was running out the u-bend and all over the floor and the toilet itself was full of dark yellow piddle by the time I finished. It was a warm summer day, and I knew that within a few hours the whole place would reek of piss, but the deed was done.

It was still stinking when we returned to clean the windows again a few weeks later.

Every time afterwards that we did that house I had my shocked face ready to repel any accusations.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 16:35, Reply)
Father.....

I've killed a man........
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 16:04, 4 replies)
The Seven Sins of QOTW
Sloth
"First lol! Story to follow..."

Lust
"I totally banged a chick and also another chick probly, funny name for her cunt, she was well up for it, amusing made up term for spunking, minor reference to something tangential because everyone knows that near-irrelevant details make a story more convincing."

Greed
"Click if you think me telling you to click will get you to click me!"

Gluttony
"After eating or drinking something, I did a poo or possibly a sick. It was a colossal behemoth of a euphemism euphemism adjective adjective euphemism humorous noun, which euphemismed its way out of my adjective euphemism humorous noun like a wordswordswordswordswordsWORDS."

Wrath
"I hate being on QOTW so much that I'm posting there, but it's different cause it's only to slag off both the pathetic, feeble and unworthy subject - which has been done before already by the way - and the maggots who sully themselves by replying to it."

Envy
"So basically your story is...?"

Pride
"Falstaff's Spiritual Successor calls shenanigans, regardless of the situation, Day XX Month 20XX, XX:XX"

If you are guilty of any of these sins, or know someone who is, please report to the nearest Robo-Pope Processing and Confession centre (internet section) for rehabilitation. I'll see you there.

Edit: Unfortunately, despite hours of diligent research, I was unable to find any reference to 'leading your readers down the garden path to a teeth-crackingly bad pun' as a canonical Mortal Sin.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 15:39, 3 replies)
Dear Mrs Veer.
You'll probably not remember me, but when you took me for biology in high school and we were broaching the awkward subject of reproduction, we were forced to watch a film of animals shagging. As the lions on the screen were getting their freak on, some wag began making "Uh Uh Oh yes! Harder! Oooh yeah!" noises, much to the amusement of the entire class. You immediately dealt with the situation by shouting at the offender and throwing him out of the class.

Despite his protestations that it had, in fact, been me.

I made his claims seem even less plausible by not making the noises any more after he had been thrown out. I regret nothing :)
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 15:23, Reply)
dear andrea
do you remember that day when we ran into each other in the manor house? we got thrashed on cheap vodka and talked for hours. i knew there was something bothering you, but i also knew you'd tell me what it was in your own time.
after about three hours, you just seemed to crumble. the tears were pouring down your face. you told me that your marriage to terry had hit a rocky patch, despite the fact that you'd only been wed a year. you said that, just as you thought things were sorted and you were working it all out, you found out that terry had kept the flat he'd lived in before you moved in together. you suspected that he was having an affair, but as you worked most nights, you had been unable to catch him out. you'd gone to his flat and seen the lights on, but you didn't have a key and nobody answered the door. you were such a wreck, all i could do was hold you and try to comfort you.

here's what i didn't tell you.

i'd run into terry about a month earlier. he'd told me that marrying you had been a huge mistake and you were now divorced. he'd told me that you were fine with this and it was actually you that had instigated divorce proceedings. he said that he'd moved back into his old flat. he told me lots more, often while we were in bed.
yes, he was having an affair. yes, it was with me.
when i left you at the pub that night, i went straight home and phoned him. i asked him if what you'd said was true. he confirmed that you were, in fact, still married. i called him all the filthy, lying bastards under the sun and ended it there and then.

six weeks later, he left you for a checkout girl. i'm not proud of what i did, but at least i know he'd have left you even if he hadn't been with me.
i'm sorry.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 14:50, 6 replies)
Back in primary school..
One fine sunny day our class were tasked with creating a song and dance (in praise of God and the Solar System or some such nonsense) , so we worked on this song for a couple of hours then we made costumes for the dance and headed outside to unleash our creation on to the world.

I don't remember how the song went, but one part I do remember was the chorus and it had the word "Venus". And like any unruly 10 year old, of course I substituted Venus with Penis each time.

Skip forward ten minutes and I'm in the headmasters office fighting off accusations from a teachers pet. As you do at ten years from birth, I blamed it all on my best friend. :-)

Sorry Dan.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 14:17, Reply)
I must confess...
It's my b3ta happy candle day - and I'd forgotten to give me a wank!

Bummer.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 11:16, Reply)
Dear B3ta
I must confess that since I've just had to pick a cluster of cat-turds up off my lawn I am not currently enamoured of kittehs.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 8:50, 4 replies)
a guilty pleasure
I do enjoy rooting out a huge crusty bogey.... and then, if it has a long stringy snot tail, it makes me do a little shudder, like I'm having a mini sex-wee...

Fab.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 6:02, 6 replies)
Mr lizard's story reminded me of something similar.
In university I entered a kids colouring competition. I spent several hours on rendering it to perfection. I won three jars of peanut butter, and got a friends little brother to claim the prize pretending to be me.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 5:31, 2 replies)
Sloth
Last year, I was long term unemployed, roughly a year out of work. During this time I looked for work madly, but this eventualy I lost steam.

Every day was the same, I'd go on the same job sites, apply for every job I was vaigly qualified for, then never hear back. Over a year of applying for jobs, hundreds of applications, I revived 3 letters of rejection and 2 interviews. The huge majority of companies never got back to me. Over time, this wore away at me. There were not enough jobs, I'd go on sites and see no new jobs, so I'd wait a couple of days between looking.

I spent all my money on video games and nights out with mates, lying to the job center about applying for jobs, I guess a couple of weeks would go by without me looking for a job, then I'd do a big surge.

I feel bad about it, but I guess the only thing I can say is that at that point I was considering suiccide. I was in a hopeless situation, I had no job, no money, no women. There was no future for me. I guess these nights out and the video games effectivly saved my life.

Happily, I've been working for 12 out of the last 13 months, and have paid back a large amount of the money I recived in dole.

So if you paid tax between September 2008 and august 2009 then your hard earned money went to me, funding my lazy scrounger lifestyle while I made no effort to find work for a signifficant period of time. For that I appologise, but I hope you can take solace that you possibly saved my life.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 0:38, 6 replies)
She's dead now...
...and for the last 15 years of her life we were not in contact (my choice), but when I was a spakky 10 year old and we lived in a large, linoleum-floored apartment in Famagusta/Varosha, Cyprus, my step-mother would complain bitterly at the amount of washing and polishing the floors required.

That's because when they'd go out and leave us kids alone without company, I would get the large canister of lighter fluid from the cabinet over the fridge and create on the floor the largest and most elaborate patterns I could imagine. Up and down, and round and round, in long and separate strands. They had to remain separate, otherwise phase two of the endeavour - when I lit one end of the flammable liquid - would be ruined.

I'd watch the near-invisible bluish tinged flame race up the corridor and down again, then around the living room, avoiding the rugs and other furniture, before heading up the corridor again, around the kid's bedroom, into the bathroom, where it would spiral to extinction.

I've never told anyone in my family this. My parents never knew, and my younger brother doesn't remember anything of our time there. I'd like to put my hand up (IN THE AIR - sick people!) and claim full responsibility. It was me and me alone. And the devil that made me do it.

22 feet, the corridor measured. I'd get a good 15 or 16 tracks across it too.
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 0:17, 2 replies)
Tavistock Street Indian restaurant, Bedford, 1985
I'd like to issue an unreserved apology to the owners of this fine Indian restaurant, name sadly long forgotten, while I confess my sins and accept full responsibility, with as much blame and burden as they'd like to apportion. I blame the demon drink, coupled with jet lag, poor impulse control and a return to England after having been in Asia for several weeks.

We'd gone out, Paul, John and I, to the Park pub, where we'd reconnected after me having been away. The reconnection involved taking the piss out of each other while trying to drink the place dry of good bitter and Guinness. I like to think we gave it our best shot, but after 8 hours of drinking we seemed to be no nearer our lofty goal, and we needed to find something to eat. Off for a ruby, around 10pm.

I remember mopping my brow with a peshwari naan, as the sweats struck me hard. I really didn't feel well, and repaired to the toilets, careening off other diners, furniture, passing waiters and the buffet bar. Inside I downed keks and - here's my first really big mistake - leaned forward to rest my head in my hands. Just as an explosion of effluvium was propelled from me, my sphincter no longer able to withstand the pressure of the tidal wave of Guinness rampantly proceeding down my colon. I later claimed that the change in bacteria, from mucky South East Asian to old-fashioned and honest English, was also partially responsible, but understandably no-one was buying that.

The rear of the seat, the cistern, the wall, and much of the floor behind me was covered in a watery gruel of partially digested organic matter, reeking to high heaven. I couldn't stop, now that I had started. Out it continued to spurt. And then I threw up. I tried to get it in the toilet, really I did, but I daren't slide back on the seat else I'd be covered in what I had just produced from the other end.

And then my second big mistake - I went to sleep. Jet-lag and an ocean of Guinness just conspired against me. So I dozed in that reeking cess pit. While my friends ate my food, thinking I had left to go home. As they paid and got up to leave, a waiter intercepted them. "Are you forgetting something?" he asked. They couldn't think of anything obvious, until they were told "your friend is still in the bathroom."

Somehow they awoke me, and I made myself look almost human and opened they door. They were faced by a scene reminiscent of a cross between the Black Hole of Calcutta and the aftermath of Verdun or the Somme. Dragged me out of there, I felt fine as soon as the fresh air hit me, and we went for a night-closing pint.

So I'd like to unreservedly apologize to the owners of that restaurant, and in particular to the poor misfortunate soul who had to clean up the mess I made. I'm really, really sorry and hope you've recovered from the ordeal. If it's any consolation, I did the same thing at the place down near the railway station, and not only was their food nowhere near as good, but one of their waiters hit a drunk over the head with a warming tray when I was there. I much preferred your place, but dare never show my face again.

I mean, would you?

Length? Never mind the length, it was the volume that really mattered!
(, Sun 29 Aug 2010, 0:07, 4 replies)
my confession
I confess to always being the better man, to always putting the happiness of friends before my own needs. I confess to hating every minute of it. Frack you people, why should you be happy when I'm not! What good does being the better man get me.

I would apologise for the lack of humour, but that would seem to defeat the object
(, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 23:45, Reply)
Nicking
When i was wee i stole a skateboard from outside my local shop-sorry to whoever exited to find said wheely thing missing la ............
(, Sat 28 Aug 2010, 23:41, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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