b3ta.com user Legless
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Who who am I?

I'm an ancient (47,48,49,50) Geordie who still thinks he's 25.

I work as an IT contractor and have done for the past 25 years. Been poor, been rich, back to being poor again. Rich is better - I'm working on it.

I've probably got one of the sickest senses of humor in the world and my mind is cluttered with thousands of jokes.

Now living in Oz with the lovely Mrs Legless.
On the whole though I don't think I'd change much if I had to live my life over again - it's been a hell of a ride!


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Best answers to questions:

» Have you ever paid for sex?

Well, I Suppose Yes...
A few years ago a bunch of Mancs and me, the token Geordie went over to Amsterdam for a mates Stag Night. We had a cracking weekend but the funniest bit was our last night.

On our final evening there we all headed for a nice pub I knew that was just on the edge of the Red Light District. While we were having a few beers, somebody took up a collection to get Johnny, the groom, a whore for his final night of freedom. Well we raised about a hundred quid and one of the lads, a known fanny-rat, scuttled off into the darkness to find the best-looking whore he could find. After about an hour he came back and announced he'd found a cracker and we then all tried to persuade the groom to go and do his duty.

Well Johnny was adamant. He was getting married the next week to the girl of his dreams and there was no way he was going with a lady of the night. And he didn't care that we'd already paid her.

"Hold on" said Paddy another of the mob. "You mean we've already paid?"

"Yup" says Fanny Rat. "She's waiting in a room just round the corner"

"Well" says Paddy "If we've already paid I suppose that I better go and shag her - it'd be a pity to waste the money"

So Paddy and Fanny Rat headed off into the night.

"Hold on" says Chris "I put in some of that money so I want to at least watch!"

And with that, we all looked at each other and trooped off after Paddy. We found Fanny Rat waiting outside a door to one of the prostitutes working rooms. Chris marches up and knocks on the door. BANG-BANG-BANG.

After few moments, the door opened and a slightly dishevelled, partially dressed girl opened the door.

"Yes?" she says.

"Hi" says Chris "You've got our mate in there and as we paid for you, we want to watch."

"Fuck off" says prostitute and slams the door in his face.

"So what do we do now?" says Chris "She won't let us watch!"

"Well we could give him immoral support" says someone at the back and with that a chant started by 20 pissed up blokes:

"Paddy! Paddy! Paddy!"

As we were shouting encouragement to Paddy, a bunch of about 40 Geordies turned up.

"What's going on?" says one of them

"Oh - our mates in there with a whore and we're just giving him some encouragement" I said.

"Marvellous!" says Geordie "We'll help you"

And with that the 40 Geordies joined the Manc contingent and this mighy roar split the skies.


After a few minutes of this enormous sound the door flew open and tart was stood in the doorway, stark naked and tits heaving.

"Can you keep the bloody noise down please" she yelled. "Paddy's trying to concentrate"

Cue 60 blokes collapsing in hysterics.

(Thu 19th Jan 2006, 13:10, More)

» Jobsworths

Reading Rock
In the early 80's I used to attend the Reading Rock Festival every year. It used to be the highlight of my year, a week of stoned pissed up sex and music - halcyon days.

One year, I forget which, it was absolutely baking hot - real melting Mad Dogs & Englishmen type of weather. Sometime in the early morning I wandered down to the Thames which ran by the camp site and then up to Cavendish bridge and leaned against the parapet and watched the crowds of rockers and hippies enjoying the weather. Then some bright spark had the idea of depth charging the boats passing under the bridge. It was quite a technical operation with a spotter on the other side of the bridge and a team of drunken rockers on the upstream side ready to jump.

As each boat started to go under the bridge, the spotters would indicate where it was likely to emerge and the jumpers would ready them selves in two groups. They'd be over the parapet and hanging onto the guard rail waiting for the boat to emerge and as the prow came out from under the bridge they'd launch themselves in teams of two and land on either side of the boat in the depth charge position. As they surfaced and cleared the jumping area the next pair would jump.

Watching from a few metres away it was really impressive watching these nutters soak every boat passing under the bridge and a large crowd formed on the bridge and on the tow-path to watch their antics. Of course, eventually Plod had to step in and spoil the fun.

About 20 coppers formed up on one side of the bridge and started clearing the bridge and asking everyone to move along under pain of being arrested on whatever trumped up charge they could think of. Eventually they got to me and a fresh faced young sprog of a copper (he looked about 12) told me to remove myself from the bridge immediately.

"What for?" I asked - "I'm not doing any harm"
"'Cos I say so" says Plod "Now move or I'll nick you"
"But I'm not doing anything wrong! I'm enjoying the sunshine in a public place. I'm not drunk and I'm not harming anyone. What grounds do you have to move me on?" says me.
"Look smartarse. I've been told to clear this fucking bridge and that's what I'm going to do. I don't give a shit about what you think - I want you off this bridge, right now, or you're nicked!"
"So if I don't get off this bridge, right now you're going to arrest me? I asked grinning at plod.
"You've finally got the idea into your tiny mind says" copper "Now move"

So with a shit-eating grin flashed at the copper I put both hands on the guard rail and launched myself over the bridge and into the Thames. - A creditable dive even if I do say so myself.

As I surfaced, I looked up at the bridge and could see the copper charging over the bridge and towards the steps that led down to the tow path. The crowd of hippies were jostling and hampering as he ran but the bastard was determined to reach the bank before I did and nick me.

I swam as fast as I could, cutting through the water like a demented epileptic and reached the bank absolutely knackered. As I crawled out, plod was almost at the bottom of the steps and I was too fucked to run. Looks like I'd be spending the rest of the weekend in the cells.

As I staggered to my feet and resigned myself to my fate there was a roar and this trail bike appeared in front of me.
"Jump on mate" Says this greasy biker.
"Way-hey!" yells me and I leapt on the pillion of the bike and we screamed off up the tow path with the copper just missing grabbing my collar by a couple of seconds. Great times.

I remain, as usual,
(Thu 12th May 2005, 10:56, More)

» Food sabotage

Nobody Steals My Lunch

(Fri 19th Sep 2008, 0:30, More)

» I witnessed a crime

Bar Room Battles
Due to my penchant for the odd pint I've witnessed, and been in, quite a few bar room brawls. But my favourite happened in Redcar, North East England.

Redcar is rough but, the place I was based, Eston, is even rougher. It's the sort of area where anyone with more than one ear is a cissy.

Anyways. I was staying directly across the road from where I worked in. It was a pub. A *really* rough pub and the downstairs bar was populated with some of the finest knuckle-draggers you've ever seen.

But I can fit into almost any environment and I was soon a regular and could be found propping up the bar after work. I got to know a lot of the local meatheads and they soon found out I was a computer consultant and they soon found out I'd fix their systems for beer. So it soon became a regular fixture, me at one of the tables happily de-porning systems ( me missus will kill me...), removing virii and spyware and installing cracked software for them.

So all was well with the world. Then, one night , there was a pool match with another pub and it kicked off. A massive bar-room brawl with cues being used as clubs, chairs and tables flying across the room (often accompanied by flying teeth) and fists, boots and heads being used with abandon.

The bar staff just scuttled to the safety of the lounge bar and soon I was the only spectator - literally, everyone in the bar was involved in the fight. Of course this couldn't last for long and a meathead, having dispatched his opponent, by throwing him through the toilet doors, came looking for his next victim. Me.

He saw me standing alone at the bar and started to run across the room towards me. I saw him and did my famed "deer in the headlights" impression and prepared to defend myself when a mighty roar came across the room.


It was the head hardman. The hardman's hardman and I'd fixed his machine for him several times and he didn't want anyone interfering in his free computer support.

(Sat 16th Feb 2008, 0:49, More)

» Family Holidays

Oh God
I'd repressed most of these memories. Only way to keep what's left of my sanity. But this QOTW has brought some of them back.

Cayton Bay, Wallis Caravan Park. A kind of poor mans Butlins. circa sometime in the 70's. I was about 10 or 11.

Some fool, probably my sister, entered me for the kids talent competition. My talent? Farmyard Impressions.....

(God I'm cringing here remembering this....)

So I gets up and stage and host says:

"So here's young Legless with his Farmyard Impressions"

To a smattering of bored applause I filled my little lungs and bellowed:


And that was as far as I got before I was physically jumped on and dragged off stage.


(Thu 2nd Aug 2007, 16:02, More)
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