b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Shame » Page 13 | Search
This is a question Shame

Some people get off on the exhibitionism, but this was pure lust. I'm not proud, but I did once have sex on Portsmouth beach at 2am in the fog. I got a nasty cold, shingle _everywhere_ and have never, ever gone back to Portsmouth. The shame.

There are things you boast about, and then there's Portsmouth beach... what are you ashamed of having done?

(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:16)
Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I used to chase butterflies with a tennis racket
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 13:09, Reply)
I've killed a man
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 13:09, Reply)
friend's kid...
he's a brit, she's german. they've got a kid. 2 years. bilingual.

the german word for a jcb is bagger, pronounced 'bugger'.

picture him at playgroup going "bugger! bugger! bugger!" whenever the toy jcb turns up.

the parent's shame...
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 12:52, Reply)
You'll never win. For the simple fact that I'm better than you.

And Gleeballs, I have read a cracking book recently. It was called 'EatMyDust.com'


It's boring waiting for the QOTW...

(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 12:50, Reply)
I fall over a lot,
My most DARING occasion was trying to jump over a fence to sit with my friends, but mis-timing, and nearing rolling off the cliff

But the most shameful was exiting Dorothy Perkins, on my own, and slide the entire way along the tile-floor and landing on my arse infront of most the town. I've done this on numerous occasions.


And just recently; on the phone to Royal Mail - my parcel number started with "RR", and the Royal Mail woman had quite a west-country accent. I did feel ever so slightly bad when she read it back out to me, "AAAaaaaaar Aaaaaaaaaaar" and I burst out laughing. And then giggled through the rest of the call. :(
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 12:37, Reply)
I'm ashamed that I laughed so hard a bit of wee escaped.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 12:32, Reply)
I Wonder

Not my work. Sent to me via e-mail.

I really should be ashamed of myself for laughing at this so much.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 12:29, Reply)
Mr Chuffy
I am also a Civil Servant.

There is no shame in working short weeks every week, having proper flexi time, and STILL being able to retire at 60 rather than 102 like the rest of the proletariat.

Not to mention not doing much work, cos you're on B3TA all day.


I obviously have no shame...
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 12:00, Reply)
My first & only trip to Ibiza.
Picture the scene... It's my first ever holiday abroad without my parents, now I had been on trips to Newquay and such but nothing prepared me for just how much vodka my pound would get me.

After drinking only 3 PINTS of vodka redbull (did you know that you don't have to measure out spirits in Spain? I didn't) I was truely a complete wreck. My friends carried me down to Café del Mar where I am offered champagne by some lovely 'lads', I haven't even completely swallowed it and it's already (along with everything else) all over the beach.

I am told that that I kept blaming it on the 'pork'. What does this mean I hear you ask? I have no idea. I hadn't eaten pork that night.

So, we head back to hotel (probably a good idea) and I have a little sleep for an hour or so...

I wake up abruptly and insist on going back out in to town, I decide that going out in pajama's is entirely suitable. On the way there my friends ask me to take a picture of them mounting a motorbike, so I duely do and I say 'Now me! Now me!' So what do I mount? A bin. Apparently that's just as sexy as bike.

So, a picture of me mounting a rather revolting bin with fleck of sick up my pajamas in broad daylight does, in fact, exist.

I'm ever so sexy me.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 11:55, Reply)
Andy Pipkin
If The Brigadier doesn't reply to your accusations with "Yeah I know." Then I will be ashamed.

(sorry, couldn't resist)
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 10:33, Reply)
I am ashamed of all of you!!
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 10:24, Reply)
I thought I was so pure of heart
and then I remembered this. Must have blotted it from my mind. Was at the Freshers' Ball to welcome the new students to their new student life and independence at Uni and lording it around because me and my mate were second-years, a whole year older than the newbies around us. My mate had football cuff-links, a yellow card for one and red for the other. We got so lashed we thought it would be hilarious to "card" the unattractive girls on the dancefloor. Luckily nobody could understand the incoherent fucktards showing them their cuff-links. Apart from one girl. The girl my mate decided needed a straight red. She looked like she was really enjoying herself, pretty much carefree and didn't understand at first and then my mate explained it to her. She ran off crying. That's when sobriety started to kick in. Then a bloke came up to us. We're both quite a bit over 6 foot and he must have been all of 5'8. He looked incredibly young. Anyway he came over to these two blokes. "I've known that girl since we were 4 and she is the most kind, considerate, caring person I have ever known. You are a pair of bastards." And then he followed her.

That story won't win, but it should. It's not funny but I don't think there're many stories to compete with such unmitigated fucktardery.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 10:10, Reply)
I’m a civil servant
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 10:10, Reply)
The Brigadier
you have got to be on the wind up?

story 1 was on Scott Mills last week on Radio One

story 2 was first spouted just after the party celebrating the invention of the wheel.

(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 10:07, Reply)
2 late entries.....
...there are too many blokes embarressing themselves here, so I remembered stories of two of my girlfriend's friends....

1. Friend #1 went out, pulled bloke, went back to his flat, did stuff in bed. Bloke goes to work in the morning, girl feels the need to pinch one out.
Goes to toilet. Pinches one out. Toilet either won't flush or the bastard just won't drown, I can't remember which.
Girl scoops out said turds, fully intending to put them in outside bin, out of embarresment's way. About to leave the flat, bag of poo in hand, she writes a quick note thanking lovely bloke for a lovely night, and leaves it by the front door. Closes door. Puts spare key through letter box. Realises she's left the bag of poo on the floor next to the note.

2. Friend #2 was training in forensics. In a lesson, everyone's told to take a swab from their own mouths and look at the DNA under a microscope, or whatever it is forensics do. She swabs, she looks, and she sees something she doesn't recognise. Calls tutor over. "That, my dear, is a sperm".

Oh, the shame.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 10:02, Reply)
Three late entries
1) My girlfriend passed out from the drink, so I took her home and put her to bed. Then I went back and continued drinking with my friends. I came home really late and barfed all over the bedroom. I tried to clean as much up as I could. In the morning when my girlfriend woke up, she assumed she had barfed and cleaned the rest. When my hangover subsided I confessed to the crime. Our washroom never smelled the same.

2) I left a rave with a close female friend. We got drunk at a university bar, and not knowing where to go, broke into my best friend's apartment while he was still at the rave and got into his bed. Of course that led to humping, followed by my best friend coming home at noon and getting pissed at us. He came in, sat down at his computer, and sent me an e-mail that said "You owe me."

3) We had a big Chinese-Canadian guy in our circle of friends in high school. His name was Kenny, but we nicknamed him after the character Kuni in the Weird Al movie UHF, officially spelled Koony. That went on for years, and then we found out it's apparently a racial slur. Once, in a supermarket, I shouted "Hey Koony!" and scared an elderly Chinese woman. I never called him that again.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 6:37, Reply)
The dangers of sport...
...acrobatics in particular.
Kama Sutra-esque acrobatics more specifically. Now, I don't embarrass easily - that requires effort - but I nearly died of shame on the occasion that I was hanging upside down over the edge of the (very high off the floor) bed, being treated by my boyfriend and, upon sitting up to return the favour, fanny farted spectacularly on his bare chest.
He thought it was hilarious, but mysteriously I just wasnt in the mood.

First post! Yay!
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 4:51, Reply)
good impressions...
i was 16... at girlfriend's brother's 21st... at their parents house... beer bong... wine... beer bong... passed out... speeches... i woke up... dropped my pants... took a big stinking piss... on the fence... next to her parents... passed out... happy... happy memories...
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 3:48, Reply)
shame AND pride
At a pub I used to work at, the manager's party trick was enveloping a cigarette in his foreskin without breaking it.

One drunken night I set him a challenge - "I bet you a bottle of Jagermeister I can get more £1 coins under my foreskin than you"

He did astoundingly well - 22 quid wrapped up inside his cock before beer and laughter made him lose concentration and drop them all.

How many did I get? What's my username?

I'm sure this is some sort of world record - the 20 or so witnesses certainly thought so.

Thinking about it makes me cringe, but I'm SO PROUD!

(addendum - one of the shocked lady witnesses was goodly enough to sleep with me a month or later even after seeing that which no lady should)

It's not about the length, it's about how much cash you can get in it
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 2:58, Reply)
The square, in Bournemouth...
...is normally full of public bothering clipboard monkeys. They do tend to come up with clever ways of detaining us; most memorable was one that offered me a hug if I filled in her questionnaire.


I was walking through the square with a flatmate, in the summer of this year. A young, blonde girl approaches, clipboard held out, all hopeful.

"Could you spare a couple of minutes," she begins.

But I cut her off.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't see you; I'm blind."

Stunned look on her face, flatmate nearly pissing himself laughing as we breeze past.

A vague sense of shame struck for around a second.
(, Thu 1 Dec 2005, 0:04, Reply)
I'm in the cadet force. Yes, yes, mock as you will, I don't think I'm a real soldier though.

I'm fairly senior and last year I was with 3 other senior cadets training about 20 RAF cadets. The Army and Navy sections from the same school were on the camp as well.

13 year old cadets actually tend to cock up the simplest of tasks. They march with their left arm going up as their left leg goes up (stand up and try to do it, it's really hard to do without concentrating). Most embarrasing of all, they turn left after being told to turn right.

This is the story of a small, fragile 13 year old. Standard humourous punishment for this is an audience of whoever was around at the time, the culprit standing up, raising their left leg and, Full Metal Jacket style, with prompts from the NCO, recite "This is my left leg. I love my left leg. There are many others like it, but this one is mine. I must learn to master my left leg." Rinse and repeat for right leg. Cadets rarely make this mistake more than twice, it's almost as effective as having them polish a big L into their left boot and an R into their right boot.

Well, a Navy cadet turned the wrong way. He was called up in front of the 15 or so strong Navy section and instructed to start. He delayed, waiting for the RAF section to turn up to show off in front of his mates. So now it's 35. The Army are right behind the RAF, now it's about 85. Then all the other NCOs and officers stroll up. We're at about 110. Kid is starting to get a little nervous.

Kudos to him, he gets up in front of 110 people, lifts his left leg, and starts reciting it. He knew it all already, but it's hardly complicated. He then lifts his right leg. For some reason I can never tell he lifted his left leg and did it again. It just so happened that I was stood right next to him at the time. As he lifted his right leg and shouted "THIS IS MY RIGHT LEG." I said "left". I am god, so he obeyed me. "I LOVE MY LEFT LEG". 110 callous people start laughing. Hard.

Cadet starts wobbling back and forth and runs off into the night to have a good cry.


Didn't feel any shame though at the time, although my girlfriend called me evil when she heard, the army NCOs laughed with me and the Navy NCOs who knew the kid told me that he was too nice to make cry.

Fast forward about a year. Cadet is still in the Navy section. I'm watching them drill, helping them out when he walks up to me and says "I hate you." I work out who he is, apologise (it was a little mean I suppose) and walk off. Suddenly I experience some form of delayed shame.

Oh I'm evil.

Almost forgot the customary penis joke. Would be out of place to apologise though, I don't even give the cadets any warning.
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 23:47, Reply)
this just happened
two cute girls came to my door talking about homelessness and reading from the bible about it. i was about to say I was atheist and close the door. after wasting my time for a bit, they said bye and smiled. my heart skipped a beat until I closed the door and realized my jeans were unzipped. shit....
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 23:19, Reply)
Stone Soup
When I was a youngin', we kept a dish of cat food outside so our dear Kofie could grab a bite on the run. Being the bright little six year old I was, I took a handful of rocks and put them in the bowl along with her food.
I guess I didn't realize the dire consquences; a five pound belly and chipped teeth.

Anyway, later that night, my family sat down to our own dinner. My mom brought over a steaming pot and put it on the table. She smiled at me (leeringly, I suppose) and took off the lid. She then proceeded to scoop out a spoonful of steaming rocks, placing them on my plate.
She punctuated my confusion with a simple statement:
"Now you know how poor Kofie feels."
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 22:56, Reply)
Stoned off my tits
There was the time I smoked far far too much weed, and went to the loo, only to pass out for three hours. My friends woke me up by breaking the door down. Class...

Or the time when I was 17 and did the bar crawl three times. I had a three day hangover thanks to that one. And completely lost any chance with this fit Irish chick I was after. Guys, girls, and undecided b3tans, Tia Maria and milk is not a clever combination.

Then finally, there was the time my Mum nearly caught me wanking. Although when I was 14 she did find my porn stash. Forever burned into my mind will be the phrase "THIS IS PORNOGRAPHY!!"

No shit sherlock.

I've dished out a fair few public humiliations of my own as well- in my first year, my next door neighbour was being a complete arse. Come his birthday, I get him completely ratted, and send him up on the kareoke to do what he thinks would have been "California Love". The sheer look of embarrasment when he didn't know the words of "My Uncle John from Jamaica" always warm my heart. He eventually got kicked out of uni, by the way.
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 22:51, Reply)
It was a Sunday night, and my friend had invited me to a night on the beers- his tab, as my wallet was emptier than a San Fernando blonde's head. Yes, that empty. I was working the next day, but a free beer is a free beer. One beer turned into two, then three, four, and finally, 5. Not that much in the grand scheme of things, but on an empty stomach can make things not too hairy, but pushing it a bit. Might I add it was five pints of Yorkshire's finest real ale, which lays a little heavy to say the least.

However, it was getting to chucking out time. My friend, in his infinite wisdom, decided to also invest in a double whisky- which was nice at the time but tipped the balance from slightly merry to slightly more than merry. Whisky tends to not have a pleasant effect on me when mixed with other forms of alcohol you see. On it's own, fine. Mixed... disaster, as I am about to explain.

I got the bus back home, and ended up having to do the technicolour yawn (luckily I felt it coming and asked the bus driver to pull over) on the way back home between Wharnecliffe Side and Stocksbridge. Those of you who live in Sheffield know how bumpy the road is there, and this does offer more of an explanation for the digestive pyrotechnics, rather than the stupidly mixed drinks I had just had. Anyways, back to the vomming. I had asked the bus driver to pull over- luckily I stood on the bus, with the doors open, and spewed outside. And still held on. When I came to, I noticed the varying looks of pity and disgust. So I took a bow.

It gets worse though. The hangover the next day was as though I had woke with a Parisian tramp in my mouth, a head like the north west of Pakistan, and a stomach more liable to erupt than Krakatoa. Which it did- twice, on the way to work. The juddering of the bus got to me. At the time I was travelling to work with a friend, whose last sight of me was going very pale, and leaping off the bus. From there, I legged it to the nearest fast food joint, and coined a new word- the McVom. Yes, I worshipped the porcelain god with cries of "HUEEEEEEY" somewhat loudly. In a sodding MacDonalds. What made matters worse was that the cleaner heard me, and that the person before had left a rather large floater. Lovely start to a Monday morning. Then, to add more straw to the camel's back, was the somewhat shaky walk to work after the McVom. And then getting to work, looking like death. And then going straight home again with what my boss thought was a bad case of food poisoning. Only to recover by midday. Go figure.

I was
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 22:34, Reply)
I learned when I was young

That spunk, if left for a period of time, turns green.
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 22:32, Reply)
Being 17, I felt like I was being rather smooth sauntering into a Birmingham Broad Street bar unquestioned. However, I felt pretty stupid upon ordering a guinness, taking it without it being fully poured, and then being called back by the barkeep. To my defense, I've only ever had it out of cans/brought to me at a pub table before!
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 22:10, Reply)
which one do you want?
or the one where the aforementioned james ended up having a semi-argument with a steaming drunk mother of one of his mates. she's the kind of mother who dresses well, looks like she's still in her early 30's, and is sufficiently well-tanned to give the impression of being the sole contributor to the running of the local tanfastic.

anyways, a little tipsy, she walks in.
he says "y'aright barb?" (barb wasn't her name)

she says "what?"

somehow this turns into an argument whereby everyone in the kitchen wants to laugh because james is verbally abusing the woman, and she doesn't seem to realise it.
another parent comes in and asks whats happening.
no-one says anything, still wanting to laugh and leave in embarrassment, but rooted to the spot through sheer audacity.

gentleman leaves, assuming something is going on, but nothing can be done.

argument resumes, with milf barb trying to be funny and failing miserably: "i bet you've got balls like marbles, haven't you?"

to which james replies: "get the marbles out, i'll beat you at that, too!"
nonsense, but perfect.

cue silence.
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 21:14, Reply)
which one do you want?
then there's the story of me using the f-word in front of my parents because somehow, at the age of four (don't ask) i had come into the belief that the word meant "lego" in french.

again, don't ask.
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 21:08, Reply)
Remembered another one
Went to this rather posh Italian restaurant in town for my mum's birthday a few years back and had a massive, gorgeous, creamy spaghetti carbonara, and a lovely evening in general (no drink bar a glass of wine with the meal). Once the evening's proceedings had finished, we went back to the car, whereupon myself and my two brothers decide it'd be rather nice to walk home - only a ten minute walk, after all, and it would be jolly civilised to get some fresh air and work off the very rich meal we'd just eaten. We get over halfway home and I start to get slight stomach cramps - I think my period was due, so thought little of it. Then we get to literally round the corner from home and they get really bad - as in, I thought I was going to collapse any second. You guessed it - suddenly my bowels evacuate what could only be described as slurry all down the back of my legs (whilst wearing a short dress and strappy heels). Thankfully, my older brother was very understanding and sourced me some leaves and things to wipe the worst of it off myself and walked behind me (in my foul trail of stench, I might add) the rest of the way home to save me any indignity from passing cars or the like. The worst bit was my mum relieving me of my shit-caked clothes while I was in the shower - then washing the filthy things, whilst still all dressed up, on her birthday.

To be fair, it did turn out I had quite a nasty stomach bug, but still... *shudders*. Apparently my younger brother walked past the spot the next day and heard someone grumbling about "people not cleaning up after their dogs, bloody disgusting", but he could just be trying to further humiliate me.
(, Wed 30 Nov 2005, 21:07, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1