b3ta.com user airliebird
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B3ta Sydney users UNITE! I'm sort of a typical B3tan.... From Hull, long time lurker, couple of front page QOTW entries, and once mentioned in the Newsletter... all of which have been the best moments of my sad little internet alter ego life.

If in Australia, (or visiting soon) drop me a line..... I'm good for a couple of free beers, working as i do for Australias number 1 brewery.

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Best answers to questions:

» The worst sex I ever had

Broken Heart-Broken Fingers
I was seeing a girl who was (shoot me) still living with a boyfriend. At the time I was still at my folks so bedroom frolics were by nature impromtu moments.
I had met this girl at a nightclub and we had gotten a wee bit amorous while I was walking her home. Luckily we lived in Hull (lots of little alleyways to duck into!) and on the way home she dragged me into a dark and secluded place for a wee bit of stinky finger fun.
She was a fairly big lass (Hi Gemma if you are looking in) and was wearing the tightest of tight jeans. I undid the top button of these and slid me hand due south and inside her pants. I located the man in the boat and give him a quick touch-up before moving further down to wetter climes. So there I am, in February, the snow settling on my shaved head, with my fingers deep inside a fat lass in Hull. "Does it get any better than this?" I thought. It Didn't
My thumb relocated the man in the boat, and she seemed to enjoy so i rubbed more vigorously. My partner in friggage then whispered romantically "Fuck me, I'm cumming" and her legs gave way.
I mean GAVE WAY.
She landed on her knees and the following happened to me:-
2 x broken fingers,
1 x dislocated wrist,
1 x broken radius,
1x broken ulna.
Luckily we were just around the corner from Hull Royal Infirmary, and holding my arm, I staggered there with this girl still rosy cheeked with the FFG (Freshly Fucked Glow).
The Nurse took one look at my hand and said "erm, Mr Airliebird....... would you like to wash your hand before we go any further?"

Now that beats any banjo string snapperage stories.... I didn't even get him out!!!
(Mon 18th Jun 2007, 11:38, More)

» Sacked

Revenge, sweet but not at all fattening
Before I emigrated to Sunny Sydney i used to run pubs in Dull Hull. One of which was right near the marina. A really quiet little boozer opposite the fruit market that was earmarked for knocking down when the area was to be renovated. (Its still there, Hull council are soooo very efficient).
Anyhoo, I had dramas there. the place had had 4 landlords a year for the past 3 yrs and I went in with the attitude that I could do so much better as the other guys had all been young idiots that had treated the place as a free booze shop for them and their drug taking hullscum mates.
The company that owned the pub were quite small and only owned 5 pubs, and as I had just left a large national comapny I thought it would be nice to be a big fish in a small pond for once. WRONG!
So to the pub. Gotta love the patrons. S-C-U-M. think of the worst type of chavster dickhead and treble it, then add Wayne Rooney. Awful terrible burberry clad idiots. Except on Band nights where the local bikers came down and the burberrys all disappeared. That is except one memorable night when the chavs stayed in "cos its our boozer innit?" and i professionally presided over what the Hull Daily Mail cheerfully described as a "wild west style bar room brawl" before the rozzers came round and arrested 30 blokes and 5 women.
So I got rid of the dickheads, the bikers, the band nights, and started quiz nights, comedy nights and singles nights. The takings remained constant and repair bills, police calls and the smell of despair around the place all decreased markedly.
3 months after i took over I am summoned to the office, the managing director says he has had a complaint about me. He tells me that a guy has written to the office and said I called him a fuckwit and had physically assaulted him and then thrown him onto the street. I laughed and told him i had, but was comfortable as this guy had tried dealing E's in the toilets. I had punched him and flushed his stash, then kicked him out. I settled back waiting for the pat on the back, when my managing director told me he was sacking me, as I hadn't passed my 3 month probation due to this incident. I ahd an hour to clear my stuff out of the pub and unscrew my name plate from above the door.
In the next few days, I asked around and it turns out the filthy chav is rooting the financial directors daughter, so I embarked on the best revenge mission of my life. Firstly, I rang the tax office and told them that both directors went around the 5 pubs on a Sunday lunchtime and creamed an average of 200quid from each till. (this was true) and that I had been actively encouraged to water down spirits and beer by them as it was "company practice".
They were investigated by HM customs and excise and both fined 10k each and deemed unfit to be directors of any business for 2 years apiece.
Then, and this is the best... I sneaked around to both of their Fisher Price Mansions, and superglued Cornflake boxes to the outside of them ("baffling vandalism on Village estate" - Hull Daily Mail). Then I emigrated, and am now earning fortune and have a lovely tan. Fuck em
(Fri 24th Feb 2006, 0:56, More)

» Your Weirdest Teacher

Just remembered one
Further to my earlier post about Dr Giles the 48k (Clive Sinclair lookey likey)inflammable Science teacher at my old school, I have recalled just about THE most bizarre story ever.
48k had asked me to "pick up some sheeps lungs at your butchers, I rang them and told them to expect you on your way in to school in the morning". As we had been learning all about respiration that term, I did this without question.
When we got into the lesson 48k proceeded to pass a rubber tube down the oesophagus of the sheep lungs and blow down it to inflate them. It was a bit gory, blood clots and the like, and a couple of girls in the class were obviously swaying even from my vantage point at the back of the class. 48k then took the tube out and told us about the diaphragm "which is located just HERE" (jabs with finger).

The butcher hadn't taken the voice box off the lungs had he? so when 48k prods........


3 girls go down like dominoes, I laugh until I burst a blood vessel in my left eye and 48k? Well, 48k leans down and says "Shhh Muriel, your mother wil hear us!"

The man is a legend in Hull, but then it dont take much down our way!
(Wed 16th Nov 2005, 12:21, More)

» Pet Stories

Hamster Suicide
When I was married to my evil 1st wife (think Hitler but with a FULL 'tache), I needed some male company. As most of my mates were "off limits" - she couldn't stand them and they hated the sight of her - I decided to purchase Basil, a Russian Long Haired Hamster.
Basil was ace. He looked like Dougal from the Magic Roundabout, and was more intellegent than Hitleress! I was running a pub at the time, and Basil had this amazing trick where I'd take him downstairs and bet the regulars I could put him inside the pool table and predict which pocket he would exit from. Basil and me were like Paul Newman and Robert Redford in "the Sting", he was my soul-mate.
One night I got really maudlin with a few mates that had braved the Nazi and popped round to my boozer and decided I needed to leave Hitleress. One of my mates said I could live at his, but that would mean leaving the pub, and that was my job, what would I do? I didn't want Hitleress to "win" the situation too.
I decided I had to split with Adolfina and seek a divorce, once I had done this I called my boss at the company I worked for and informed him of the change, as the ex said she'd pack up and leave immediately and I didnt want her to get paid for a second longer than she deserved. Then, 2 weeks later the brewery told me that as we had been employed as a couple, I was now redundant - I had 3 weeks to get out.
So it was off to the mates house to live till I got back on my feet. Now my mate was allergic to pet hair, and as anyone who has owned a Russian Hamster knows, Basil moulted. A lot.
So Basil went off to live with Hitleress, and I pined. Basil was my best friend and I knew he hated her. One night The ex calls me and through tears she tells me that Basil had died. He had escaped from his deluxe hamster space station house and had dived head first into her dads tropical fishtank. He had taken out about a dozen Angel Fish before floating, belly-up with a seraphic expression on his face.
3 weeks alone with my ex and her family had driven Basil to suicide.
I got custody of the body and one night myself and my mates took him to the river Humber and -in one of those boats with a elastic band propeller- we gave him a viking funeral. Set fire to the boat and watched it drift down to the Humber Bridge with a tape of Amazing Grace being played on Bagpipes. I cried my heart out, and in fact am filling up now.

Basil was a legend, I have a framed photo of Basil on my desk at work 14 years later. I loved him. Rip Baz xx
(Fri 8th Jun 2007, 12:05, More)

» Tales of the Unexplained

Pubs and Spirits
You will not find many people who have worked in the licenced trade in Blighty that have not had some sort of Supernatural experiences.
Mine are probably typical, but this was of no comfort at the time as it led to sleepless nights and more than one set of pappered keks.
I was looking after a really old ex-coaching Inn in the wilds of East Yorkshire, and believe me this place is old. VERY old. It was a couple of hundred years old when Dick Turpin was arrested there (honestly). It creaks, it groans and its bloody scary when the mist rolls in off the Humber.
Anyhoo, one night I locked the pub up and prepared to set the alarms, having to walk through the darkened pub to get upstairs to the flat. It felt weird, and colder than usual but being a born sceptic I dismissed this as a draught or whatever and successfully put the alarm code in and went to bed.
The next morning I got up and unset the alarm and walked through the bar to let the cleaners in.
Being half asleep I didn't realise what was different at first... until I walked straight into one of the bar stools. "Funny," thinks I, "I'm POSITIVE I stacked those on the tables last night!" I stopped and looked around me, realised I had walked into the middle of a perfect circle of about 30 bar stools about 20ft in diameter.
There was no way I could have set the alarms the previous night without walking into them. I had tidied the bar alone, and as it had been a quiet night had actually put the stools up early before i even closed the doors.
So my next thought is "Some cnut is taking the piss", so I call the alarm monitoring company to ask if the alarm had been deactivated at any point during the night. Nope it had gone on at 23:55 and off again at 07:45. There was no rational explanation. I checked all the windows... locked from the inside. All the doors were secure and nobody was hiding in the toilets.
So that night i decided there must be a 'blind spot' in the alarm system and i got my (now ex) wife to set the alarms with me lying on the floor of the pub in exactly the spot that the circle of stools had been.
I laid still for two minutes and started to try and pull the stools towards me. The alarms activated immediately and were as loud as hell. Over the next few days i tried everything I could think of to explain what had happened, and nothing could.

I found out months later when one of the ex-landlords happened to pop in for a drink that it had happened before.... always on February 23rd (but not every year) which was reputed to be the date that a group of guys that had used the pub had been killed by a shell that hit their trench near Paschendale during WW1.
Again Mr Sceptic here thought "how could a group of guys that all knew each other from the pub all be killed on the same day?" A little research later told me that there were 'Pals' regiments that all joined up together, trained together and more often than not died together.
I wandered over to the village War Memorial and found that about 60 guys had died in the first war, and then I cross checked the names on the Commonwealth War Graves website. 15 had died on the same day ( Feb 23rd, need you ask!) with around 20 dying within 3 months either side.
A real hair on the back of the neck moment there I can tell you all.
I tried to track down ex-landlords to ask if they had the same thing happen. Only 3 out of 10 that I had managed to track down had a similar experience to me.

I am no longer a sceptic i suppose, and it still scares the living shit out of me when i think of it.

Length...... 20ft in diameter!
(Fri 4th Jul 2008, 12:00, More)
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