b3ta.com user PsiPhi
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» Lies Your Parents Told You

My bloody parents
told me that if I played with my belly-button, my arse would fall off.
(Thu 15th Jan 2004, 11:46, More)

» Stupid Tourists

I love
to clutch my spanish, swedish, italian etc. phrasebook and tell little old ladies in shops that "I need a hairnet for I am lactose intolerant". Does that make me a stupid tourist?
(Fri 8th Jul 2005, 7:04, More)

» Heckles

Years ago now... (wobbly cross-fade transition)
Faith No More were playing in Ireland just after their keyboardist, Roddy Bottom, came out about being gay. My mate Lenny, a notorious slagger, managed to yell out during the one momentary lull 'Go on Roddy, you big bent bastard!'. The whole stadium heard. Needless the band were a bit pissed off with Mike Patton threatining to kick Lenny's head in, and poor Roddy was visibly upset for the rest of the gig. The whole place was directing very bad vibes Lenny's way. What compounded things was a group of kids taking up a chant of 'Roddy is a bender'.
(Fri 7th Apr 2006, 1:23, More)

» School Sports Day

Every year...
...that day rolled around when the jocks got to run around in an unfettered orgy of testosterone fuelled activity. I hate sports of all descriptions (except maybe midget tossing and lawn bowls). As usual, the creepy geography teacher had erecteed the poles with those old metal tannoy loudspeakers which bounced any audio fed to them around the sports fields until it became a howling mass of glass shards. The one good side of this is that people were allowed to bring in tapes to play - mostly death metal that year (ages me a bit...). I decided that 'Rocket Queen' by Guns n' Roses would make a nice addition to the playlist and nearly pissed myself laughing when half way through the song a lady starts to have an orgasm at ear drum shattering levels. The entire day ground to a halt with panicking teachers and dropped jaws all around. Result!
(Fri 31st Mar 2006, 4:07, More)

» The Police

The year was 1995...
...or was it 1994? Anyway, it was a wonderfully hot summer and there were fantastic parties happening all over Dublin. Without a search warrant, there wasn't much the cops could do about it. One night, at a particularly bangin' Techno party, the cops 'invited' themselves in and proceeded to switch off the music and wreck heads. The main guy sneered as he looked around at us and said in his most contemptous voice "Look at you, dancing like animals - I'm sweating like a pig in here". As soon as he said it, he realised what he'd done and the whole place erupted into gales of laughter and cries of "get the fuck out! Sweaty pigs!". They changed the law soon after that so that they could print out and sign their own search warrants in their cars. Rich mans militia...
(Fri 23rd Sep 2005, 4:05, More)
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