b3ta.com user Roy Horn
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Profile for Roy Horn:
Profile Info:


Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Toilets

Possibly the worst night of your life....
A Classic tale of booze, poo, vomit and fighting.

Whilst at Newcastle uni, one of my mates used to go out and get twatted on a regular basis. No surprises there. But one night he and his mates had gone on a particularly fruitful Leo Sayer and had ended up in reasonably classy nightclub.

All was going well until one of said mates had realised the days proceedings had caught up with him and that a mighty vomit was imminent. Off he rushes to the bogs only to find that all the cubicle doors are locked and taken.

For those of us who have also been in this torrid situation and there are only a couple of options open to you:

1) Tell yourself to get a grip, take deep breaths and try to hold it in till it either goes away or a toilet becomes available.

2) Think "Fucksocks" and just let rip in the nearest sink/urinal/trough/floor.

So which option does said friend choose?

In fact he chose secret option 3 which involves walking aimlessly around the bogs and then decide to boot one of the cubicle doors in to projectile vomit several gallons of Snakey B, redecorating the inside of the toilet a speckly purple. Unfortunately there just happens to be one large, now very pissed off, Geordie with trousers round ankles, curling one out.

Now what do you do here? Say sorry and leg it to avoid the imminent beating?

No, you get your punches in first whilst he's defenceless, break his nose and cover him in his own blood.

Then leg it.

Let's face it, if you're that guy who has just been covered in sick and got beaten up whilst trying to have a quiet turd, you've had a shit night.

What do you say to your mates when you return to the bar?
(Wed 7th Sep 2005, 14:47, More)

» Near Death Experiences

Electricity is fun...
As a student, the first house we moved into was newly refurbished with all new mod cons etc. Except the oven wasn't wired up properly; the thing was feckin' live. So much so that if you put your hand near it you could feel the tingling of electricity through your arm. (For those of you who don't know, apparently the oven is connected with a fat cable, not just a poxy kettle lead. How was I to know that!)

Anyway, I obviously thought the best thing to do was not turn it off and phone an electrician, but sensibly, to test the appliance by touching it with a screwdriver.

Next thing I know is finding myself being shot backwards all the way across the kitchen onto my (now buzzing) arse and having to spend the next couple of hours lying down recovering from the shock.

Now someone calls an electrician, who in complete disbelief at the incompetence, calls the thing a "fucking death-trap" and if there had been any water on the floor that I could have been "a goner", which was nice.

But I tell you what, the sensation was fucking brilliant. You can feel the current shoot up your arm, up and down your spinal cord, around your nervous system and into your brain. If you've got the balls or are stupid enough, I'd recommend it to anyone.

As for the gizmo that was in lastweek's newsletter (No. 159), those sparky's have got nothing on me; 100mA - not a problem.

Bring on the current.
(Tue 30th Nov 2004, 18:53, More)

» Worst Nicknames Ever

To taxi, or not to taxi? That is the question....
Personally I think this a great nickname, simply because it's not mine.

One of my friends from uni is and for evermore will be called Smartrider. The story behind his nickname is brilliant, in fact one of the best I've ever heard.

Whilst frequentling the AU Social in Manchester as we did every Wednesday, Tom had been trying to pull this bird, Abby, for weeks. (For the sake of avoiding embarassment I have used these names, because that's what they are called.) This one particular Wednesday Tom struck gold and she was gagging for him to take her home for, er, you know; nudge nudge wink wink. Anyways, she gets him downstairs and out of the club and suggests they share a taxi home. So, with the prospect of guaranteed sex with a girl he's been stalking for ages, what does this tight git decide to do? He pipes up with "Sorry love, I've got a Megarider; I'm catching the bus home" and leaves her there on her own in the cold while he goes home on a bus, ALONE. So instead of forking out a few quid to take a taxi home and have sex, he chose to save a few pennies by using his weekly buspass, the Megarider, to go home and probably make a withdrawal from his Wank-Bank.

What a twat.

Remember the name - SMARTRIDER for it is the name for true stupidity.
(Thu 25th May 2006, 0:33, More)

» Jobsworths

Bus Driver
Arrived in my home town of Chesterfield (the town with the wonky spire) at the train station and proceeded to walk to the bus stop in the town centre. Was running a bit late for the scheduled time of bus departure, and sure enough the bus was sat waiting at the traffic lights, ready to leave.

So I look at the driver to see if he'll let me on, but he won't. Fair enough I thinks, since the lights were just about to change and he was sat in traffic.

The bus has to go the long way round to the next stop, so, carrying an enormous and heavy piece of luggage, I decide to run down to the bottom of town to catch the same bus.
Gets there, to find the bus waiting for me in the bus stop. The driver puts on his indicator and begins to edge out into the road where there is a massive queue of traffic through town.

Absolutely knackered, I finally get to the bus, of which, 98% of it is still situated in the bus stop, and knock on the door for the driver to let me on. Knowing that I've just legged it through town, with a massive bag on my shoulder, he just shakes his head and turns away.

I could not beleive it. What a cunt. And he was the sort of cunt who won't turn to face you even though you want his attention for an explanation.

So what I decide to do is walk to the next stop about 400 yards on, knowing it'll probably take the bus about 5 minutes to get there and flag it down.

The bus rolls up and opens the door. I decide to wipe the little grin off the smug driver's face. I stand on the first step, look at him and ask why he wouldn't let me on since he was sat in the bus stop. Before he can answer I just completely abuse him and say that I don't want to catch his bus now, and I'd rather walk home than travel with a complete and utter cock.

I get three quarters of the way home before he finally passes me, at which point I stick two fingers up at him and mouth the word cunt.

He was not pleased. Fucking jobsworth.
(Mon 16th May 2005, 16:44, More)

» Losing Your Virginity

From stud to crud
Turned up to university a wide-eyed fresher who basically knew very little about women - especially in the downstairs department. Things were about to change though as I had struck gold within the first few days.

Within halls, I had met a gorgeous girl in my corridor and on a night out she was fondling my leg under the table. I managed to play it cool, but inside I was jumpier than a kangaroo with ADHD. (She was wearing high heeled boots at the time - so hot. Let's just say I had more than a semi-on at the time.)

As the night progressed, all I could think about was "Is this it?", and that question scared the bejeesus out of me. By the end of the night we were in my room and things were going well, too well perhaps, because we didn't do it at all but just spent most of the night talking, kissing and doing other stuff.

"mmm...Anti-climax" I hear you say.

No my friend, because I knew that we were going out the next evening and this time I was definitely going to "seal the deal" as it were.
So, in preparation, I decided that in order to avoid the 'pump, pump, squirt' scenario, I was going to fwap off as much as I could beforehand.

Turned out to be an awesome decision as I pumped away like a true porn star, lasting for ages, but not too long, and more importantly she had no idea about my 'V' status. She loved it, since it led to a series of awesome sex sessions that evening, week, month and indeed the rest of the year. I was truely a stud (in my own eyes, obviously. And perhaps hers!)

"Why stud to crud then?" I hear you murmur.

Well my man, let's fast-forward five years on, to just over a week ago. Similar scenario, met a girl previously, got on well but didn't "seal the deal" due to general pissedness, smell of sick on breath and beer stains on clothes. For some bizarre reason she seemed to love it. Anyway, a week passed and several text messages later, I knew in advance that said girl is going to be at a certain nightspot that shall remain unnamed. Did I use my previous studly knowledge regards to fwapping beforehand, not getting too pissed and in general acting cool and confident?

Did I fuck.

I got absolutely mullered; so mullered that it probably ranks in my top ten of all time mulleredness. Puked beforehand. (Thank God for chewing-gum.) Acted like a total twat, but still the daft fool wanted to come back with me.

Lets just say my performance puts the whole of mankind to shame. No excuses. I was just shite.

Still, I came in her mouth. Not all bad!

And the moral of the story? Well none really. Even after my complete rubbishness in the sack, she still wants to see me again.

There's one born every second.
(Fri 4th Mar 2005, 18:41, More)
[read all their answers]