b3ta.com user Woolworth
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Profile for Woolworth:
Profile Info:

Name: Rondolpho Manbutter
Age : 36
Occupation: 1978-1992
Likes: Magnets and the word 'skullduggery'
Dislikes: Being startled by drunks/monkeys/evil ninjas/the passage of time
Listens to: Every goddamn word that comes out of Carol Vordemans mouth
Remembers: That it's 'pants and socks' first in the mornings. (most times)
Forgets: Birthdays/Cleaning products when shopping.
Wants: Real Jedi powers
Will Swap for: Rubiks snake (slightly destroyed)
Finds: A lot of modern TV too painful to watch.
Loses: Patience quicker than my 6 year old son.
Will: Kiss you full on the mouth for a pound.
Wont: Negotiate on the above introductory offer.

What Is Your Battle Cry?

Prowling on the tarmac, wielding an oversized scalpel, cometh Rondolpho Manbutter! And he gives a gutteral grunt:

"This one's for you, mom! The enemy is as grass before my mighty tempest!!!"

Find out!
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Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Misunderstood

Venue: Centreparks sub tropical swimming paradise communal toilets and changing rooms.
Incident: Sister in law, with 4 year old needing a wee wee, enters a cubicle to discover a large - bear sized- pooh laying across the top of the toilet seat cover. Sister in law exits hastily and enters new cubicle (free of faeces) and 4 yr old empties bladder. Upon exiting the new cubicle Sister inlaw notices another mother and child quickly enter and exit the cubicle containing the faecal atrocity. In a misguided attempt at paternal comraderie Sister in law taps on shoulder and remarks to the newly appalled mother "I did that!" - meaning (of course) that she had just exited the chamber of pooh horror herself. The woman's look of disgust and choice of new names for the sister in law showed that she truly misunderstood that sentiment.
Judgement: It's still about misunderstanding but with the added benefit of being about pooh too.
(Fri 7th Oct 2005, 17:58, More)

» My sex misconceptions

We got all sorts of messed up sex mehducation in the playground...
From the classic:
Weeing in a womans mouth will make her pregnant.
To the chilling:
Women grow teeth in their Mini moos when they get divorced.
And my favourite:
If you spunk more than 3 times a day it makes your sperm grow bigger and bigger until you're pushing tadpole size baby gravy out of your japs eye.
There was one lad (an only child) who swore blind that he had ejaculated a large single sperm that had tiny webbed legs. He did later attempt to retract this statment but I believe he is still known as Froggy Froggy Bullshit Wanker to this day.
(Fri 26th Sep 2008, 13:10, More)

» Your Weirdest Teacher

The obsessive compulsive chemistry Jones...

(..As opposed to the unintelligibly aggressive Geography Jones - the erm..Geography teacher).

Used to have a habit of leaving pauses during speaking in the hope that his keen as mustard students would pipe up with the correct word/element/compound etc.

We used to have a lot of fun chucking nonsense in there i.e.

"Magnesium is a silvery light weight metal that can burn in nitrogen and........?"

“Stuart’s Mum's knickers”
“Badger nipples!” etc etc etc

A fantastic learning tool? Possibly. The weird thing was that he spoke the same way outside of the chemistry lab. I once heard him having a conversation with his wife that ran along similar lines...

“Your mother is staying with us on ...?"
“I will cook a ....?”
“Pork roast”

It was almost like he was reaffirming his own knowledge - constantly.
I suppose it saves all that messy lesson preparation.
Still, he's probably........?
"Badgers nipple"
.... now.
(Mon 14th Nov 2005, 16:42, More)

» Fire!

What's that smell..?
Mrs Manbutter's old college room mate stays over, gets stinko on Lambrini, sleeps in living room on couch and throws up into 'bin'. Bin happens to be Mrs M's hippy chick aromatherapy cauldron. Smell of her own vomit cooking wakes our elegant houseguest who drunkenly flails around (in own words - after event) "seeking the source of the stench" knocking over 'bin'in process, falls back to sleep. The heating element from the newly busted new age smelly cauldron is exposed and now touching our delicate houseguests discarded underkrackers from the night before. Mrs M walks into living room to see old roomate asleep on couch, pile of cooling vomit and a small smoking grundy blaze in the middle of the living room. She shouts for me. I run into room (half nudey and fresh from the arms of morpheus), step on the sick, realise and smell at same time 'it's sick' sensate and promptly gag, throwing up myself (fortuitously) over the knicker fire. Old roomate is roused by the commotion and starts getting defensively lippy over the shouting and vomiting until she see's the sick and burnt knickers and busted furniture whereupon she starts to sob remorsefully for 20 minutes. You really had to be there - Mrs M took some pictures on her phone but they are blurry and make it difficult to add credibility to the tale. Still - if you are trying to control a small blaze and water is in short supply it wont hurt to remember that, at a pinch, your stomach contents can act as a useful extinguisher.
(Thu 3rd Nov 2005, 13:47, More)

» Injured Siblings

Revenge is a dish but forks are better!
When I was 7, my brother (14) had to look after me at his friend's birthday BBQ. He was so annoyed at having to spend the afternoon babysitting his little brother that he got his mates to trap me under an empty paddling pool whilst they took turns throwing cricket balls and rocks at me.

When they decided that torturing me was boring (I had decided to act possum) they lost interest and went to a nearby field for a kickabout.

Unable to let this injustice slide I dusted myself off, found a weapon (BBQ fork prong thing) and went in pursuit. I walked across the field - semi blinded with tears and my own blood (from a busted eyebrow) - fully intent on murdering the big turd.

I managed to get past 2 of his friends before one of them noticed the weapon, hidden behind my back, and yelled a warning to my brother. I recall him looking really angry and running towards me -clearly intent on pulping me.

Ordinarily I would have bottled it when confronted by this sight, but my resolve had been hardened by the sycophantic laughter of his mates and by the presence of the sharp pointy thing clutched behind my back.

In retelling the next part of the story, my brother insists on playing it down and still makes fun of what I was shouting at him (.. something like " I will slay you, you big bummer"). I'm guessing he does this in an attempt to repress the true horror. (He also makes sure he leaves out the torture and provocation bits too - turd).

Obviously trying to act big in front of his mates (and possibly not noticing the big fork) he grabbed both my ears and pushed my head back - maybe thinking I was going to swing at him. I grabbed the fork with both hands and drove the fugger into the top of his trainerde foot. In my memory I shouted something like 'Excelsior!" but I probably didn't.

I think I was as shocked as him when blood starting fountaining out of his shoe, (this didn't stop me from legging it straight afterwards mind) but part of me wishes I had stayed around to watch him try to move his foot only to realise it was pinned to the ground.

He still blames me for ending a promising football career.
I still blame him for having a patchy eyebrow.
(Sat 20th Aug 2005, 10:52, More)
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