b3ta.com user Squeaky Shoes
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Hello, I'm Ben, and I like to lurk.

You can check out some of my nonsense at here. It will not be updated as I stopped paying for the space.

Or if you like music, check out my old band why not:
Satans Little Heartbreakers Someone hates them so much they made a blog about it. Gumph!

LIKES: Rock 'n' roll, The Simpsons, J-horror, surreality and making up words.

DISLIKES: Dislikes

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)High
Level 2 (Lustful)High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Very High
Level 7 (Violent)Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Awesome Sickies

Being A Nerd...
...I used to hate, hate, hate P.E. Yes, it's not work, but consider the following: you had to wear those stupid fucking shorts which your bollocks popped out of if you sat cross legged, run in the snow and shower with other boys who called you gay. That's as bad if not worse than sitting at a desk all day typing.

So, I used to beg my mum to make stuff up to get me out of it. She played along for a bit (I'm an only child and so used to get spoiled), but eventually grew a spine and refused my whinging requests for fake notes.

So I decided I needed a convincing reason to get out of things. I decided it would be a really good idea to throw myself down the stairs. This is made pathetic by the fact that we had a dog-leg staircase, so it would in fact be a mere 5 stairs that I would be throwing myself down.

Piece of cake, I thought, I can roll round the corner and down the rest of them. No, then again, that seems a bit suspicious. I stood on those stairs for a good 15 minutes working out the logistics of where I would end up if I fell different ways.

It was no good. I couldn't bring myself to do it, just in case I actually broke anything. So instead, I decided to fake the event. Standing on step #1, I ran very fast and heavily down the stairs, punching the walls as I went down so as to make it sound authentic. Then I laid down halfway down the stiars and crumpled myself up, wailing in "pain".

Nothing happened. No stirring from the parents' bedroom - not one sound. I cried out a couple of times; still nothing.

In the end, I got back up, crying (I'm a master of fake crying to this date) and walk/hobbled into the bedroom. "Mum! I fell down the stairs!"

"Did you? I didn't hear anything."

The sob story worked, she wrote me a note - but the whole stair-fall charade was a fucking waste of time. Bah!
(Tue 13th Jun 2006, 13:20, More)

» Claims to Fame

It is a true fact that
my mum knew Adrian Mole scribe Sue Townsend (they worked at the same social centre). My direct link to this? When I was a nipper I wore her kid's hand-me-down clothes.

(Mon 28th Feb 2005, 21:59, More)

» Little things that turn you on

Be it receiving or giving, there's something s-e-x-y to me about earlobe kissing/nibbling action.
(Sun 20th Feb 2005, 18:13, More)

» Strange things you've been paid to do

Goat tugger
Yes, oh lord it are true - when I was a teenager living in some back-end-of-nowhere village, I was offered a job looking after my mum's friend's pets. Goat pets. Two of the bleeders.

They don't just need feeding and poo pickup - no, they need milking too. When I was being "shown the ropes" I was told how to milk off the bleating gits. Just like milking a cow they said. OOH OKAY!

It was like placing my hand around a hot hairy (and SILKY hairs at that) man's part. I tried to milk - and nothing. I quit the same day. Okay I didn't get paid but still - shudder.

Goat milking - it's for the birds. Or better still, baby goats.
(Sun 3rd Oct 2004, 23:31, More)