b3ta.com user Detrius521
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Profile for Detrius521:
Profile Info:

I haven't been here in ages. I've missed it.

22. Student. Male.

Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Have you ever paid for sex?

Can't say I've ever paid for sex, in any way. But I've got worms. Little uninvited arse-dwelling parasitical bastards.

Not related to the question, I just wanted to share.
(Thu 19th Jan 2006, 23:27, More)

» The Police

Silly prank
The one story I have involving the police is an interesting one. At least, it is to me, and I want to tell it, so sod you if you don't find it interesting!

At about 2am on Thursday the 19th of May this year, some friends and I snuck into school to play various pranks, because it was coming up to our last day. We were originally going to do it the next day, but felt the need to do it that night because we knew that some other friends were doing a prank that night, and we didn't want to be outdone.

So we snuck in, the Mission Impossible theme tune running through our heads (or maybe just through mine) as we ran along the playing fields. Their mission, should they choose to accept it... fill in as many locks as possible with PolyFilla. My mission - stick post-it notes on as many windows as possible. The post-its had things like smiley faces :-) and musical notes on them. Silly things. Also, some toilet paper was strewn about and some Brylcreem was spread on a seat.

By 3am we had finished, and started to drive away from school. But remember that some other friends had planned a prank that night? They'd executed it just before we had, and had been seen by a member of the public. The police were called. Who saw us pulling away...

The blue flashing lights pulled us over, and after some brief questioning (in which my mate almost shat himself), we were arrested on suspicion of criminal damage and burglary.

Now, for some reason, I was the only one out of four lads who thought "Hmmm... in trouble with the law... legal representation might be a good idea" so I, and I alone, asked to see the duty solicitor. And she told me to say "no comment" to everything they asked me. Which I did.

"Do you know anything about these post-it notes?" "No comment." "These locks are filled in, did you do it?" "No comment". "Is this shaving foam on the bench"... you get the idea. But then came the question I'd been looking forward to the most....

"Do you recognise this room? The cleaner went in it this morning. Do you know what she found?"

"No comment"

"Twenty two chickens. Did you have anything to do with that?"

*Barely suppressing laughter* "No, but I wish I had."

Apparantly all four of us had the exact same response. For you see, the police had been called by a member of the public who had seen our mates carrying boxes of chickens up to one of the rooms. Twenty two of the buggers. The police were desperately hoping we could tell them where the chickens were from so they could return them, but alas, we knew nothing.

Funnily enough, lunch the next day... anyway...

The "no comment" stuff paid off. While all the others got cautions and criminal records, I got let off entirely after a month. It still took me another month to get my clothes back though. For the record - spending a night in the cells in blue police clothing is not something I want to do again.

Flash forward several months later. It's a week before Reading Festival, and my mate has given me her tent because I'm going up a day early, so I can pitch hers. Unfortunately, she gave it to me while I was a little bit wasted, and somewhere between hers and home I managed to lose it.

Given that it was a brand new tent I really wanted to find it for her. Someone suggested trying the local police station, and I thought "Can't do any harm".

So I wait in the police station while someone hands in a phone they've found. And as I approach the window...

Officer: "Hello... hang on, don't I know you from somewhere?"

Me: "Err.... yes..."

"It was that night, wasn't it, by the school!"

"Yup, that's it! Criminal damage and burglary."

"I remember that mate. Oh, and over there (points over his shoulder) is the arresting officer!"

So, having given the officer details about the tent, I then had a nice conversation with the lady who arrested me about how I'd done in my A2 levels, and how I was meant to be camping but had lost my tent.

It was rather surreal.

*Some witty comment about length*
(Sun 25th Sep 2005, 2:23, More)

» Black Sheep

My brother is really the black sheep of society, not just my family. He drives an ice-cream van and plays the music when he's run out of ice cream, he wears headphones and wanks and we leave him cups of tea, and is constantly demanding for us to molest him and tell him where teh uplaod cod3z are.
(Sun 16th Jan 2005, 18:41, More)

» Embarrassing Injuries

Oh dear god
I can't believe I'm about to write this... oh well, enjoy people!

I used to be a bit of a violent fucker, prone to getting into scraps at school. One of these was with a mate in the changing rooms. It wasn't anything spectacular (hey, we were like 14), but because he was much bigger than me he ended up sitting on my chest to calm me down.

At least, he thought he was sitting on my chest.

Imagine my situation - I'm on the floor, bent into all sorts of awkward positions, with some cunts leg in my face. I can't breathe, because his leg is taking up my mouth and nostrils. I did what anyone in that position would do to get him off me.

I bit him.

Really really hard.

Only it turned out he wasn't sitting on my chest, he was sitting on my face, and it wasn't his leg in my mouth, it was his arse-cheek.

He couldn't sit down for a while, and his girlfriend tells me that even now, years later, he still has a scar.

Poor fucker has a scar on his arse that all his girlfriends will see from now on, and he has to explain that another guy bit him there.
(Thu 2nd Sep 2004, 11:10, More)

» Airport Stories

Coming from a nice, moderately wealthy, middle class family, I've done my fair bit of travelling. The most memorable airport story is from when we went to Ecuador.

We spent something like five days in the Galapagos Islands, which are incredible. I have the CUTEST pictures of baby sea lions ever... and my camera at the time didn't have a zoom, so it was a question of sticking the thing in its face and praying its mummy or daddy wouldn't be pissed off.

The last night on the boat I felt that I had a bit of an upset tummy, so I retired early.

That night, I spent the whole night either on the toilet, or in front of it. I was straining and retching, but nothing was coming out either way. I was also incredibly hot - to the point that I'd stripped to my underwear, and covered myself in cold water, and was still boiling. I ended up waking up the ship's doctor at 2am, in incredible pain - she basically told me to fuck off and take painkillers, not realising that I had.... gastroenteritis!

Anyone who's had this will know it is incredibly painful, and the most comfortable position is curled up in the foetal position. The foetal position is not one that allows you to readily move about - for example, it doesn't let you get onto a dinghy to get to shore.

Somehow I got to shore, and curled up on the dock while we waited for a bus. I've tripped out on rather too many hallucinogenic mushrooms before, and that wasn't anything like as bad as the delirium I was in from the pain. I don't remember how we got to the airport... there may have been a taxi involved.

So, we're at the airport, and I'm lying on the floor, my head resting on my mum's handbag while she goes to get some water for me. I'm all alone, just lying there, painfully fucked, and not feeling very happy. And then... *a feeling*.

I started to throw up. Horrible, painful bursts of vomit landing all over the nice, clean airport floor. Galpagos officials are incredibly concerned about contamination and introduction of new species - one can imagine they won't be too happy about vomit.

I'm lying there, throwing up, curled up, in pain, not really understanding what's going on, completely alone. I don't mind admitting that I really wanted my mum at that point.

Before she showed up, the airport police/guards/army did. They had guns, they were big and burly, and they were definitely NOT what I needed at that point. My mum came back (yay!) as did our guide (yay!) who started to talk to the soldiers/police/guards. Fuck knows what they said.

The next thing I knew, I was being hoisted up off the floor and marched off to a small building at the back of the airport. I say marched - really I was carried. I had one man on either side of me, gripping my arms, and my feet did not touch the floor for the three minutes or so that it took to transfer me.

Once in this little building, which turned out to be the infirmary, things got even more interesting. I was laid down on a stretcher while the guide went to a pharmacy to buy a drip, some painkillers, some anti-nausea medication, and some saline solution. You can do that in pharmacies in Ecuador, apparantly. I managed to do a shit... the foulest smelling shit EVER, very liquid, requiring a lot of toilet paper.

After an eternity, the guide came back with a drip etc. I'm quite pale naturally, and was green by this time, so it took an age to find my vein and stick the drip in, leaving me looking like a pincushion. My veins were so small, in fact, that they couldn't get the anti-nausea medication in me through the veins in my arms... so, you guessed it, I was flipped over and had a needle rammed in my bumcheek. Lovely.

The story still hasn't ended. I was wheelchaired out to the plane where I managed a few minutes sleep as we flew to the mainland, and we spent the night in the capital of Ecuador, Quito. I was still in pain, I couldn't eat, and I was generally not in a good way... but by the morning, I was better.

At the airport, I couldn't stand the thought of flying back home - I just didn't think I'd be able to cope. But our guide, the legend, managed to convince the airline to give me a business class seat. Not just me, in fact, but me, my mum, my dad and my brother. This meant kicking some unlucky souls out of business class to accomodate us. By the time we were on the plane and being offered champagne, I felt pretty good, and a little guilty... but I didn't let that stop me enjoying the flight home.

So even though I was in horrible pain, throwing up, doing foul shits, completely delirious and generally fucked... I did get a very nice flight on the way back. Every cloud has a silver lining, I suppose.

Traditional Apologies.
(Mon 6th Mar 2006, 23:42, More)
[read all their answers]