b3ta.com user Catchag
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Pan-Galactic 4th dimentional ludo champion for over a lifetime - I'm great me!

Former Baywatch ice-cube boy

9 year undeafeated chicken dissapointer

"...In Llama land there's a one man band
and he'll toot his flute for you......"

No Really!

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» Claims to Fame

The Bill
Until recently and for my sins I used to watch the Bill on ITV with my wife every week.
In 2003 they introduced this a new WPC into the series, Honey Harmon, the blonde one who looks like she's been permanently power gooed.

So disgusted with her acting ability was I (and that's fucking saying something for The Bill), I wrote a disgusted email to the show's producers saying that when she's on screen it was like someone has thrown a chair into the set and who did she shag to get the role.

No response.

Then about a couple of months later I was taping the Bill as the wife was out and there was a panning shot across the office taking in the white boards in the background which have case information and suspects on it.

There was my name in big black letters with a ring around it in the middle of the whiteboard for a child sexual assault case! The bastards!
(Thu 24th Feb 2005, 15:54, More)

» Sacked

Mr Catalogue Model
During the late 90's I dossed around doing temp work as it fitted in with the band I was in and my stoner lifestyle.

I landed a gig doing spare part ordering for a large truck manufactuer in their main warehouse in Cheshire and turned up in my best suit (A mandarin collared - Jet Li style black suit) and matching shirt.

The job was dull - sat infront of a dumb terminal checking availability of parts for grease-monkeys and ordering or reserving them for delivery. My immediate boss Cheryl, was lovely and on the first day found that she was a rock chick who had seen my band several times and who thought we were great. Life was good.

That was until the end of the second day, when the door to the office was thrown open by a blond haired catalogue model with lantern jaw and an equally artifical personality - he strode in, looked me up and down and then breezed into Cheryl's office and shut the door.

You know when someone is talking about you and I kept turning around to see him talking at Cheryl and pointing at me. I was later called in to see my boss after he had gone and was told "That was my boss and he has asked me to tell you that there is a dress code in the office of shirt and tie, could you adhere to this please from tomorrow"

My hackles went up and I asked if there was dress code for women in the company - she said that there wasn't. So I started mentioning sexism and equality in the workplace, to which she became very amused and agreed with me that it definitely was sexism.

The days following saw a daily visit from Mr catalogue model and even company ties turn up on my desk. Every day had me in Cheryl's office after his visits with stronger warnings of having to adhere to the company dress code and for me please wear a shirt and tie.

I wasn't fucking going to - he had pissed me off at first sight with his "you're shit on my shoe" look and arrogance - and I was sticking to my guns about the sexism and equality issue.

Friday came, my boss pulled me into her office again and said that she was off on Monday and just to keep things smooth and me there in the contract, would I please wear a collared shirt and tie.

I turned up on Monday in my collarless suit and shirt to be immediately pulled into the office by Mr catalogue and given a royal petty dressing down; "I believe that Cheryl has repeatedly relayed my requests that you dress to the company dress code - how DARE you defy my authority" - blah! blah! blah!
I looked him square in the face and started quoting employment, equality and sex discrimination acts - to which he went fucking purple and started shouting at me to do what I was told - and I had "better come in in a shirt and tie tomorrow or else!".

I knew that my contract was going to be terminated there and then, so I went straight to the shops after work and bought myself a very nice shirt and silk tie.

I turned up the following morning, threw the office door open and strode in like he did and then struck the best catalogue pose I could...

There was a very loud series of gasps and then I got a standing ovation from my colleagues.

I had on the most gorgeous blue cotton shirt and silk tie, tucked into the most gaudy multi-coloured bemuda shorts showing off my knees and half of my pasty white shins before the battered paratrooper boots started.

He was sat in the back office and no word of a lie, I am sure that the glass condensated when I walked in. He said nothing - absolutely nothing and I worked away, coiled, waiting for him to have a go. Nothing.

Until 4.30 - when I got back from a fag break to be ushered into his office by a boilersuit wearing warehouse manager who closed the door behind me. Mr Catalogue was sat in the chair, 6'7" warehouse guy by the door, and another huge shop floor worker next to the desk.

Mr Catalogue tried to go into an authorititive speech about how I was no longer needed and how my behaviour was unacceptable, my work shoddy and how I would never get a decent job. But he stammered through all of it and kept breaking his gaze on me because I was unblinkingly staring at him. I kept grinning at him trying to keep my cool and not just roll about on the floor laughing at the pathetic fuckwit's posturing.

"Do you have anything to say before you leave?"

"Yes! You're just jealous because in these shorts you can see I clearly have a bigger dick than you and also unlike you I can pull this particular look off!"

He went purple - the two shop-floor grunts stifled belly laughs, before the one behind me opened the door and said that I had better leave - which I did. With my head held very fucking high!

Spring never employed me again though.
(Thu 2nd Mar 2006, 14:24, More)

» Losing Your Virginity

First time, brown wings and firearms
My old University mate Doug lost his cherry to a girl he had met in his local while his parents were on holiday.

They both were drunk and went back to his folks house where they made the beast with two backs on his parents brand new white leather sofa.

She had been around the block before and said that she liked it up the arse - what she hadn't told him was that she had also come on..

Anyway in the hungover aftermath of him losing his cherry, he found that the expensive soft leather sofa was splattered and stained in cum, shit and blood. He tried his best to clean it - but the damage was done.

When his parents came back from holiday the first thing they saw was the ruined furniture. Doug panicked not knowing how to tell them the truth - so he blamed the dog for shitting on the sofa.

His Father took the dog outside and offed it with his shotgun.
(Thu 3rd Mar 2005, 16:29, More)

» Going Too Far

Debt Collector
Strap yourselves in.. another Catchag long one...

It was September 1989 - I was just about to start my second year of A levels and was working during the summer in a local Cinema as an usher - absolute cushy job - watching all the latest releases and getting paid for it.

I had a full suit uniform and looked very smart (this was an independant cinema and the proprietor was very traditional) but I was meeting a friend of mine from Chester off the C84 bus that night. My mate John was 6'8", a former junior power lifter and a drummer in a metal band - long greasy hair denim jacket covered in band sew-on patches and a bullet belt... and a totally uncouth drinking monster.

Another old school friend (Lee) had been for a lads camping holiday during the summer and copped off with some girls - Lee had invited his girl to come and stay so they could continue their horizontal persuits - but his overprotective mother wouldn't allow him to fraternise with girls whilst he still lived at home - so she went to stay at Kenton's house - whose parents were away on holiday.

I met John off the bus and we were walking back to my folks place so I could get changed before we made pissed idiots of ourselves when I stopped next to Kenton's house - Kenton was at work - Lee was at work - girl was by helself - time for wind up.....

I told John to hang out of sight until I called him and knocked very loudly on the back door, waited, then knocked some more. A very timid girl opened the back door a crack and said - "Yes?"

"Mrs Kenton?" - I asked


"But this is the Kenton's residence?"


"My name is Mr Catchag, I'm from the Berland debt recovery agency and I'm here to collect goods to the value of £2000 for non payment of credit card bills.."

My foot met the closing door and wedged it open

"You can't come in - they're not here - you can't do this....."

"I'm sorry but there has been months worth of correspondence and I have a court order (I produced the folded timesheet for next weeks shifts at the cinema and waved it at her)I am legally entitled to enter this property and recover goods to the value outstanding"

She had started crying and was banging the door against my foot whimpering at me;

"You can't come in - I won't let you come in"

"This is my colleague, Mr John, who is here for such eventualities"

John stepped under the porch from where he had been out of sight

There was a loud wet fart from the girl and she let go of the door and took a step back with her eyes wide - then burst into tears.

I said her name and she looked at me confused through her sobbbing - so I said her name again and then explained that I was one of Lee's friends and this was a wind up and bless her, despite the state she was in, hawking with upset and stinking of shit - she said

"Oh - do you want to come in then?"

We declined and left - and literally had to hold each other up for laughing all the way back to my folks place

7.30 pm that evening the phone rang

"CUNT" - was the only word said and then Lee hung up.
(Mon 13th Nov 2006, 14:23, More)

» It's not me, it's the drugs talking

"It's a fair cop......"
Another one from my mis-spent 20's.

1995 - Clubbing in a Stoke on Trent repetive beats, strobes and fog sweat-pit. 5 of us all off our mash on E. A pretty non-standard excursion from our usual bonging and playing cards. Top night.

3am - on the A500 D road heading towards the M6 from Stoke - all 5 of us have a spliff each, all 5 of us are carrying varying "cognitive enhancers" - doing 70, still off our mash and listening to loud tunes in the smoke filled car.

The smoke in the car turns blue.
We all look at each other
The smoke in the car goes blue again.
We all look at each other again.
The smoke in the car goes blue and we hear a siren.
We panic - Tim starts eating his stash, swearing and pleas to the Lord fill the car,

I stub my doobie out on the sole of my shoe - showering hot blims into the carpet.

Steve (the driver) starts to slow down and we are screaming, asking him what he's doing - we're in trouble and we fucking know it.

Steve was suddenly replaced by Harvey Keitel from Pulp Fiction and in the calmest voice I've ever heard said - "Chill out, crack all of your windows open a touch - I've got this!"

We did what he said and sat in silent terror - he pulled over into the layby. Engine turned off, Dibble pulled up behind us and we heard the heavy footed clomping of impending arrest walking towards the car.

Steve wound down his window and Dibble got the door post of the car with his torch out - shining it in Steve's face and then it happened

"It's a fair cop officer - the drugs are up me arse!" blarted Steve.

The copper lost it, burst out laughing and said "Fuck off home lads - drive safely"

We did as the man asked and erupted in the car, I have never laughed so hard.

Steve took his place in my pantheon that night, right next to Chow Yun Fat.
(Wed 21st Dec 2005, 12:46, More)
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