b3ta.com user Ali Bongo 9000
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» Weddings

Family Wedding
I'd just started going out with a very nice young lady whose brother was imminently due to get married. Sure enough, I was duly invited to the wedding. Very nice, very posh (he's a city boy), wonderful time had by all.


They had arranged for some samba dancers to hold a group samba lesson immediately prior to the reception. It's fair to say I wasn't very good. As I left the floor in ignominy and left new g/f to it, who should I see but a good friend of mine, coincidentally arriving for the evening do as a guest of new g/f's mate. A-ha! An alternative to making a fool of myself, I thought, and the two of us retreated to the bar.

Then I woke up in the bath, partially clothed, it was daylight, and my mouth tasted like there was a frenchman living in it. I had absolutely no idea how I'd got there, or what had happened. New g/f wasn't best pleased with me, to put it mildly, and after some delicate negotiation she filled me in on the details.

I'd got absolutely wankered on guinness, started loudly pontificating about "fucking tory cunts" to g/f's Daily Mail-reading dad, thrown a full pint glass across the bar in full view of everyone and flatly denied I'd done it, gone back to the dancefloor to confront the g/f's mother and angrily insist that she should be "reaching for the lasers", then thankfully been dragged off and up to my bed by a crowd of concerned guests. All by about 8.30 pm.

At about 9pm I reappeared in the room with my cock hanging out of my trousers on the grounds that the grandmothers and other assorted elderly relatives would "love it".

BTW the new g/f is now my wife.
(Thu 14th Jul 2005, 18:48, More)

» Housemates from hell

Um, I think it might have been me.
I sleepwalk. A bit. Normally it's not much of a problem, I'll find myself waking up wandering around the house in the middle of the night needing a wee or something to eat, so I’ll go to the bog or the fridge, get back to bed and that’s that.

Very occasionally there may be a minor indiscretion, such as the time I walked into my girlfriend’s sister’s bedroom as she was on the job with some fella and tried to get into bed with them, but generally people understand when I explain the score and accept it in good humour and without thinking there’s anything sinister about it.

Except for this one girl.

Poor lass. She moved into a shared house I was living in, and for some reason, whatever part of my brain was in charge of sleepwalking just seemed to have it in for her. I had absolutely no idea why. She was nice. But she certainly didn’t think I was.

I didn’t tell her that I sleepwalk when she moved in; I just didn’t think to do so as it’s so rarely an issue. So when after a few days I came to notice that she was being strangely frosty towards me, I couldn’t work out why - until word got back to me that I’d wandered into her bedroom in the middle of the night and stood glaring at her for a few minutes, freaking her out somewhat. When I found out I did my best to explain and make light of it, however it was clear that whereas I was able to find some humour in the situation, she clearly was not.

A few nights after that I woke up suddenly to find myself confronted by her. She was a little bit cross, enquiring as to what the fuck I thought I was doing, and suggesting I get the fuck out of her room - which indeed I was stood in. With a spoon in my hand. I apologised as best I could and made my way back to my own bed in a state of embarrassment and mild confusion.

I didn’t know anything about the next time until the morning after, when she had a right old go at me for barging into her room, tipping the contents of her chest of drawers all over the floor then walking out again. She called me all the names under the sun and at one point threatened to do me physical harm if it happened again. I tried to reassure her it wouldn’t, but I’m not sure she was convinced - she kept using words like “bullshit", “fucking freak” and “pervert”.

A week or so later I was rudely awoken by a shoe being thrown into my face at high velocity accompanied by a volley of very high pitched screaming. If I’m honest I can probably understand why, seeing as I was stark naked and standing next to her open wardrobe that was making a distinct dripping noise and smelt suspiciously of fresh piss. And, to be fair, I certainly did seem to be languidly wanking my flaccid cock at her.

She moved out.
(Thu 5th Apr 2007, 23:01, More)

» Now, there was no need for that...

Not proud to admit that I still find this funny
Back in the 80s, there was a deaf-mute kid on our estate who to our collective shame was widely known as Dopey David and generally given quite a lot of stick.

One day down the park a bunch of us were attempting to convey, via the medium of improvised sign language, the fact that the girl he fancied was a fucking slag. Gradually the message got through and he became enraged. This pleased us.

Surprisingly, he drew from his coat a pair of those kung fu stick things (nunchucks?) and started flailing them around wildly and emitting some very strange whining noises. With perfect comedy timing the chain between them snapped and one stick went flying.

Thus further angered, and amid a sea of mocking hoots and jeers, he gathered his pitiful weapon and rode off across the park on his cheap crappy BMX. He turned to face us, gave us a high-pitched yell, and at that precise moment a weld or something on his bike frame seemed to snap and it collapsed in a heap beneath him.

Seldom have I laughed so hard in my life as I did at that moment. How, I thought, could anything possibly top this?

Well it did. As poor old Dopey David sat there in the wreckage of his fucked bike, crying and screaming and punching the ground, a big fat alsatian dog walked up, sniffed at the bike, cocked its leg and pissed all over him.
(Mon 20th Jun 2005, 11:27, More)

» Messing with the Dark Side

The hand that fills the underpants
In the early 80s the TV programme "Arthur C Clarke's Mysterious World" had caused quite a stir amongst us impressionable middle school pupils. Cue lots of tall tales flying around the school about seeing ghosts, UFOs, bigfoots and loch ness monsters (in fucking Slough) etc and so on.

Anyway, a few of us started claiming to own ouija boards and to be seasoned experts in contacting the dead, and so a bunch of kids arranged to meet up in the local graveyard the next weekend in an effort to summon up ghosts, demons and even Hitler as I recall.

Cue sunday morning and about five mildly nervous kids sat in the graveyard, with no fucking ouija board to be seen of course - the nearest one lad had was a few bits of paper with letters written on, and a plastic beaker. It's fair to say that enthusiasm waned a little.

Until we saw Les coming.

Les was not the brightest fella in the world. Nor indeed the most popular. We saw him entering the graveyard looking round for us nervously, so we hid behind the headstones planning to make ghost noises at him.

By chance somebody spotted a soggy old abandoned leather glove laying on the floor and had a genius idea. We grabbed the glove, filled it with mud, waited until Les was fairly close but facing the other way, then lobbed it at him.

It landed almost perfectly on the top of his left shoulder nearly touching his neck - and being damp & mouldy it stuck there for a vital split second.

Les jumped about a foot in the air, looked down to see what it was - and saw a disembodied hand about to strangle him. He screamed like a girl, and ran like greased lightning. Accompanied by a clearly audible "phut phut phut" sound as his arse let go and he shat himself.

Les was never quite the same again.
(Thu 20th Apr 2006, 13:49, More)

» Child Labour

We wish you a merry pissmas
A few of us tykes used to go carol singing round our council estate each December. Lots of very nice people gave us sweets & coins despite clearly not being terribly wealthy.

One day we had the bright idea to go go to the outskirts of town where the posh people lived in the big houses - if poor people could give us money, rich people could give us TONS of money!

Or so we thought.

After being ignored, insulted, shooed away, and threatened with the police by various snooty wankers we happened upon one house where this lady opened the door and brayed "gosh how charming" or some such, and stood grinning at us for a good five minutes as we went through our entire repertoire of Jingle Bells, We Wish You a Merry Xmas and, um, Jingle Bells again.

And then she said "thank you very much" and shut the door in our face.

Now, by that time I'd just about had enough of these toffee nosed twats. Fury arose within my mighty ten year old frame. Some nice person earlier had given me a tube of smarties, so I immediately chewed up a mouthful of them, opened the letterbox and gobbed them out into the house as forcefully as I could. Then I ran.

About 30 seconds later I looked back and realised nobody had come after us. So I went back to the house, opened the letterbox again, stood up on tiptoes and had a hearty piss into it. Again nobody came out.

The next week I put some dogshit through the letterbox. And so it went on. For some weeks.

Many years later, about 18 years of age, I happened to be walking down the same road pissed out of my head on cider. I noticed that same house and had a good chuckle about my childhood campaign of toiletary vengeance. Then I stopped. It was late. Nobody was about.

Ladies and gentlemen I must confess that I went up to that very same letterbox and wanked into it.
(Fri 17th Feb 2006, 13:49, More)
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