b3ta.com user sham-il-eer-tak-tak
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» Oldies vs Computers

My Mum, 75, Online 2 years, bless.
Everything is called "the Thing" as in "I pushed the thing and the thing popped up and said" or "the thing won't go in the thing"

Her OS GUI is unique as far as Gold RTM versions go, her's is missing buttons, drop down menus, entire applications, email
clients etc. and she gets unique pages of the Internet.

Doesn't matter if we're on the same web page or in the same application, whatever I tell her to look at or click it isn't there "I swear on my life,
I'm not lying, why would I ... oh there it is" (average 1 min of that, PER step, of a ten step instructional)

All email adresses are still email numbers. after two years.

She calls MSN "S n M" ... I haven't corrected her.

She learned that severe anal injuries like that in the barrymore case can be caused by "something called fisting" :-(

Just remembered this most recent one: One of Mums friends got sent an unwelcome and highly pornographic image by some woman
she'd recently met and it popped up on screen when Mum and her friend were at the friends computer. They were both horrified.

Apparently it was a picture of a man "helping himself into a ladies mouth"

That's how a polite person like my mum would best describe it, I suppose. I laughed almost as much as when I heard her say fisting.
(Tue 26th Sep 2006, 14:40, More)

» Putting the Fun in Funeral

a biker funeral, loads of bikers and a vicar. hymns, loads of people wondering WTF is the connection between what the vicar is quacking on about "a good man, loved by many" and the man in the box, who wasn't either

the sermon stopped, the music started, the curtain twitched and the conveyor belt started up.

his biker babe lurched forwards and screamed the immortal words "GET HIM OUT OF THAT BOX ! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BURN HIM !"

they didn't get him out of the box, they did burn him and she, high on druqz, was hitting on me and other blokes at the wake. we all declined and she lived happily ever after on the insurance payout.

hi tracy :D
(Sat 13th May 2006, 23:28, More)

» Injured Siblings

psychological injury
when I was about three, I poked the eyes out of my sisters 'tiny tears' doll. snipurl.com/h1ou

I left it on the stairs by the front door, for when she came home from school.

there it sat, blank eyed, as she ran in the front door and came face to face, eye to socket, with this abomination.

much screaming, many many nightmares.

oh, and the time I losened the handlebars on her bike .. arse over tit, grazed face, 'rents had a hard time not laughing at that gem.
(Thu 18th Aug 2005, 18:41, More)

» Hotel Splendido

Kyle Hotel - Kyle Of Lochalsh
I stay in about 10 hotels per year, sometimes more. Everywhere from Ukraine (got fleas)
Midi Pyrenees (town full of dog shit) Amsterdam (gay orgy next door) etc, etc BUT :

We had been in the Outer Hebrides for 2 weeks and the stopover in this hotel, in the "deluxe room with
king size bed with drapes, television with video or DVD player, luxury bathrobes and Jacuzzi with spa or
jet shower" was to be a treat to ourselves for slumming, camping and roughing it for those 2 weeks. We
even dropped off 2 bottles of champagne on the way out to await our return. The pop was there when we
arrived, but so was a coach load of weegies :(

" For a perfect romantic break why not book a deluxe room with king size bed with drapes, television with video or
DVD player, luxury bathrobes and Jacuzzi with spa or jet shower"

Went the blurb. It still does. www.kylehotel.co.uk/bedrooms.html some 2 and a half years later.

What we got (and the fuckers can sue me on this) was a room at the top of the stairs at the junction of 2 corridors
which saw heavy traffic until 4am. In the room, the floor under the carpet was made of heavily buckled hardboard
which creaked and squeaked like fuck. The door to the room was poorly fitted so that the draught which howled
under it made a farting noise (I KID YOU NOT) unless we wedged something up against it. The as the advertised
Sat TV didn't work, the jacuzzi looked rank ... There was a film of matter over everything. The staff were like a
Mongolian version of Manuel.

And the heavily perfumed and aftershaved up weegies didn't stop doing what chav weegies do until gone 4am.
In the morning, they all had their doors open while they were getting ready for breakfast and they were all
'comparing notes' about last nights activities: Drinking pish, and getting humped dry by their fat baw bag husbands.....

So, after no sleep on a uncomfortable bed set on creaky floors, the crap shower in a (possibly) spunk lined
shower cum whirlpool spa bath, we went down for breakfast.

Wall to wall weegies stuffing their maws with everything in sight. We made two attempts to get a seat and failed.
By the time we could get a seat we were told (seriously) that the coach party had eaten all of the breakfasts.

I walked into reception and asked to speak to the manager, the owner turned up. I dialed my card provider and
canceled my credit card there and then, I told them it had been stolen. I dared the cow of an owner to attempt
to charge me for anything. I Dare You.....

"deluxe room" ?


Length ? I'm sorry it lasted one night ! .... still waiting for my day in court .....
(Fri 18th Jan 2008, 19:54, More)

» School fights

how many ? all true. here's the first three.
1970's north east england.

I've always been different, when I was really young I was very different to all the other kids
and a bit of a runt, bullied all the time. spat on, punched, told to take my trousers down
(denied - fucking 'omo') hit, punched some more, kicked and generally abused for the runt I was.

I used to get chased to and in my front door by savages. my mum used to compare me to sylvester
the cat snipurl.com/nffy when he was chased into a building by a bulldog and stood breathlessly
panting on the other side of a door or fence only to be got at, trashed and humiliated. mum used to
say turn the other cheek, son. dad used to say hit em back ya wimp. for a while I turned the other cheek
then I sprouted balls, height, pace and a lot of anger.

first up: steven mack. tormentor since 1st year infant school, walking behind me on my way home from
junior school, punching the back of my head and taunting me about something. for the first time in my life
I decided to punch the fucker in the face ! BANG ! square on the nose. it happened in slow motion
allowing me for the first time to feel the pleasure/ pain principle of squished nose under hard fist.

by the time he had hit the floor I had him by the hair and was dragging him round by it outside the
shops until he was screaming like a girl and I was screaming like a wild beast. a shopkeeper dragged
me off him and me and steven mack ran off, both terrified, in different directions.

an hour later steven mack and his dad were banging on our front door with conflict in mind.

my dad opened the door and recognised mr mack, greeted him and asked what was the problem.
mr mack described what had happened and demanded to see me to explain why his son was in
such a state. bloody nose, tufty hair, red of face. my dad called me down the stairs from whence I
had been hiding and when mr mack saw me he looked at my dad, apologised for wasting my dads
time and whacked his son quite hard round the head.

steven mack was about the size of a st bernard to me, a mere poodle-runt. his dad said get home you fucking bully,
apologised once again to my dad "sorry, Bob" and departed. (some years later my dad had cause to hold mr mack
against a wall by his throat because my older brother shagged mr maks wife and broke their matrimonial
bed. mr mack needed to understand that my brother had gone back to london or something :D )

next up: raymond burkin, steven macks best friend, second hardest in junior school after steven mack.
arch co torturer of yours truly since infants school. dinner queue, raymond burkin pushes in front of me
in the queue. I tell him to go to the back of the queue, he refuses and pushes me in the chest ! BANG !
I've hit him square on the nose and he's gone off like a fire alarm - wheeeeeee ! falls to the floor, blood
everywhere, dinner lady has me by the jumper and I'm hauled off to head mistress's office, no dinner :-(

after that: eric oram, third hardest in the school (you can see where this is going, right ? wrong) and
he's offered this runty upstart (me) out to a staged scrap in the middle of the playground, ringed by
bloodthirsty 8, 9 and 10 year olds with me in the middle to sort out who's top dog.

now, the orams were a funny family. eric wore wellies, thin trousers and the same jumper all year round,
summer, winter, didn't matter. smelled of wee all year round, hard as nails. his middle brother clifford
was hard as nails. summer, winter, all year round, wore wellies, thin trousers and the same jumper ,
also smelled of wee. the elder brother was called stanley and he was in borstal. mum (fur coat, no knickers)
and dad were always pissed up or in the pub.

I don't remember much before being pulled away from eric after eventually subduing him by straddling
him, holding his hair and repeatedly banging the back of his head against the asphalt of the playground.

the next day I had to be escorted off the school premises by the head teacher whilst an ex forces (mr powell)
warded off clifford oram who had arrived at the school with a pair of nunchuckas to exact revenge for
beating his dwarf of a brother in a fair fight which was started by said dwarf. my sisters boyfriend at
the time - steven bernal god bless him - eventually brought the oram brothers under control and I was left alone for
about 6 weeks before my 'reputation' spread. I'll leave it there of you don't mind. took me years to lose my 'rep'

turn the other cheek or hit the fuckers back ?

hit the fuckers back. and if you recognise any of the people in this, good, you fucking bullies you didn't win
and I'll challenge you all to a rematch anyday ;-)
(Fri 10th Mar 2006, 23:07, More)
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