» Missing body parts

one leggyness
when i was a wee babe, due to complications at birth, i had a foot lopped off. Pretty drastic, in some ways, but one has to make the best of a situation, and consequently, as i am a man of mischevious ways, i found many many ways to make it as amusing as possible. Clearly, as i went to the same school as the legendary Scaryduck (and am in fact immortalised in one of his stories here : www.geocities.com/coleman66uk/life/corridor.html ), the possibilites were vast, to say the least..
Dawned the day of the first cross country run for 1st years - the legendary (and appropriately named, natch) 'sewers course'. A hundred or so skinny pasty 11 year-olds lining up at the top of the playing field, quaking in anticipation of the stinky horrors of running through a couple of miles of effluent, made worse by the Big Boys in the upper years, who'd made a point for weeks of relating the legends of the kids who'd taken the Big Step into the quag. Fuck this, I thought, and 'accidentally' released the retaining mechanism of my placcy leg. Cue the start - 99 kids leg it across the field, one takes one step forwards, performs a graceful face plant into the sward, leaving an upright leg on the start line. not a big problem, really, except for the reaction of the slightly retarded bloke that was driving the mower that day - had to be calmed down by the majestic welshness of mr Curtis, the games teacher - who could barely talk, he was laughing so much... never did do a cross country run.
Some years later, at Reading central swimming pool, a municipal pool of epic mankyness, saw me rolling around on the floor, stump covered in ketchup, shouting "shark! shark!", and spending the rest of the session hooting at the sight of mothers dragging their terrified children into the pool, giving me the most evil eye...
Twisting the old fake leg thru 180 degrees and walking along usually provides much mirth, too. Should know better, at 38, but what the hell....
(Fri 2nd Jun 2006, 13:37, More)

» When animals attack...

baboon love action
a narrowly avoided attack.... I was camping in tanzania a few yrs back, with the GF of the time.. woke up one morning, feeling the approaching warmth of the oncoming african dawn, i started to feel amorous and convinced GF that a dawn shag was a fine idea... so, i climbed aboard, and gave a good account of myself i rather feel. Anyway, the critical moment was reached and, with that slight tinge of post-coital sadness common to us sensitive types, collapsed on the sleeping bag, perspiring quite a lot - it's arsing hot in africa in a nylon tent, even at 8am... so the mrs dug me in the ribs and told me to open the tent up to let us get some bloody air, as the small space we had to breathe in was now definitely full of a peculiarly perfumed vapour..
so i unzipped the front, and threw the flaps back (so to speak) - took deep breath of the fragrant morning air - and nearly shat myself, as there before me was a full sized baboon. About 2 feet away. Snarling. And wanking. oh yes he was wanking, his arm was a blur and he appeared to be sweating whilst he thrashed one out. I froze for a moment, then realising that (a) i didn't want to see this (b) he didnt want me to see this and (c) i knew that bad things would happen if i ignored (a) or (b), i retreated into the tent toute suite and zipped it up. My GF, who had been purring in the light breeze entering the tent, sat up and demanded what exactly the fuck was i doing? So i told her i wasn't opening the tent yet, perhaps it'd be discreet to wait a moment. She, being the woman she is, called me a fuckwit and opened the tent up - only to return, ashen faced, immediately. I, having lit a cigarette, nonchalantly asked if he'd finished - she just shook her head...
About ten mins later, exit tent - no baboon, no monkey jizz... presumably the sound and odour of human love was similar enough to monkeylove to give him ape wood... although that's not a particularly edifying thought, that my best efforts are like a monkeyfucker...
(Wed 8th Jun 2005, 9:23, More)

» Toilets

pigs, bears and boats
Good QoTW - my French girlfriend, already horrified by the British love of anythign poo related, will be mortified - she loves B3TA, so there will be a crisis...


aaaaaaaaaaanyway...



on a ropey old boat from Dar-es-salaam to Zanzibar, had a dose of the squirts anyway, boat heaving, pitching and rolling away on the ocean at night, i grabbed my torch to find the loo - didnt need it (the torch) i just had to follow my nose... i didnt have the option, my guts were thrashing like john hurt's, so i staggered into the vile pit and steadied myself agains the wall while i de-trousered; shone the torch round to see that every surface (including, natch, the wall i was holding) was coated in liquid shit...

a mate was camping in canada, having been warned to keep everything in bags up trees and away from tents etc, was a bit bear-jumpy. So on needing a dump, wandered into the woods, a good way from the tents,dropped 'em and unloaded, happy as you like until the bush right in front of him started rustling ver loudly - he panicked, and in his alarm, sat back. Right in the hot pile of poo he'd just left...



couple of years later in india, found a place to stay one night in a weeny village. Through hand signals i indicated my need, and he pointed the bog out but via the magic of sign language, told me to hide my bogroll in my shirt.. of course, i forgot. So, nonchalantly climbed the stairs to the little shed-with-box-with-hole, dropped keks and turned round - just as one of the owners pigs stuck its nose thru the hole into my arse. Apparently, they like to eat poo, and much prefer it on draught. As soon as they see someone carrying bogroll, they get all excited and wait in the drop zone for fresh ones, all hot and lovely. The only repellent is to take a big spliff in, and when the nose comes up, blow smoke in - they get all sneezy and back off. HOWEVER - then a chap finds himself coated in a thin layer of poo-scented pigsnot....
Later saw them walking around the village, covered in poo and with bits of bogroll on their heads like jaunty little caps - i swear they smiled at me...

this QoTW is about length, isn't it?

on reflection, perhaps my GF has a point - we/I AM poo - obsessed.


anyone got actual photos of The Shit That Killed Elvis?
(Fri 2nd Sep 2005, 12:40, More)

» Toilets

MIA poo
Conundrums tale reminds me of an (apocryphal) story of the chap who went for a poo in the rain, after de trousering hung his arse over a fallen tree to drop it - as conundrum said, there ain't a man alive who wont look at it - and on inspection of terrain, realised there was no sign of it. Not wishing to hang about in the rain, he went off towards his tent, putting his anorak hood up in the process - and suddenly found where his poo had gone....
(Fri 2nd Sep 2005, 13:46, More)

» Airport Stories

so many horrors
many many... like another on here, i am blessed with fewer than the average number of legs (which by definition is less than 2.. think about it) - so am always setting off alarms. Cue many hilarious events where chap patting me down comes across 14" of carbon fibre... although it's never been removed, it usually leads to a more in depth check of my other belongings; so, dusseldorf last year, usual rigmarole with beeping, lights -a-flashing etc, and me explaining about prosthetics. All good, but he then made a point of going thru my coat, on the conveyer xray thing.
as a dirty smoker, i have a lighter on me most times - this time i had a Zippo that was a pressie from mrs 2 shoes. The hulking great cherman chap seized this like it was a winning lotto ticket, and told me i couln't take it onto the flight. Bristling a this, as i wasn't about to lose my lighter, i asked why... he opened the lid, ran his finger along the edge, and told me it was too sharp and could be a weapon.. twunt. So i did what any good B3tan would do in the face of such idiocy, and pissed myself laughing. Instead of him getting angry and wheeling me off to all manner of unspeakable interrogations, he looked sheepish and then decided to find a better reason. So - i kid you not - he opened the zippo, poked the cotton wool wadding inside with a pencil, then told me it could be used to start a fire. I casually mentioned tht it was a fucking lighter, what in the name of all that's holy did he think it was for (and by the way what did he think the gas lighter he'd already looked at and given me back was for)? nonetheless, he sent a minion away to get something, and lo! she returned with some tweezers and an envelope, and made me pull all the wadding out and put it in the envelope, and told me if i wrote to the airport it could be sent back to me... he seemed to be having a terrible time understanding why i was honking with laughter at his very inventive interpretation of travel laws....


couple of years previous, swung my backpack up by the straps off the luggage carousel at heathrow, as i spun and took the weight i felt some resistance and heard an "ooooofff" noise. Turned round, to see Pierce Brosnan clutching his groin from where i'd smacked him in the double-oh-pods.... MI5? Bond? pah. You're not that hard....
there are many more but if i stop now i'll not have to apologise for length; against my principles.
(Mon 6th Mar 2006, 12:29, More)