b3ta.com user Roger_Irrelevant
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lobster

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» Flirting


Flirting with checkout girls is one of life's great little secret pleasures. Let's face it, it's a crap job which pays crap wages and 99.9% of the punters they deal with on a daily basis are arseholes who treat them like shit. To say nothing of what the majority of supermarket "managers" must be like.

A friendly smile, a joke, and a bit of harmless banter go a long way in such situations if you ask me. Especially if she's got nice tits.
(Thu 18th Feb 2010, 15:51, More)

» Pubs

I'll see you both & raise you one of mine...
Worthy of mention was my local frequented all through growing up, the Black Horse.
Conveniently located at the top of the local main street, backing on to the road that ran right up past the entrance to our school.

All through O Level year myself & a few mates would often nick off school in the afternoons & end up in there. They had a back room conservatory type affair opening out onto the beer garden and car park, which housed a pool table (20p a game, them were t'days) a cracking video jukebox, and they kept a lovely drop of Bass best Scotch on tap for around a quid a pint.

Local custom dictates that from about the age of 13/14 all the local youngsters would go drinking in there on a Friday & Saturday night, as part of the weekly drunken ritual known as "Chesta Front Street", so the Black Horse bar staff were all used to seeing us in there. Thinking about it, they must have known we were well underage, but I remember always getting served in there no problem, even really young when it was touch and go in some other boozers.
Careful choice of clothing (close enough to school uniform but casual enough to not look out of place when the tie came off) was the order of the day, and many happy afternoons (and pounds) were spent in that back room playing pool, smoking tabs & getting nicely pissed, before rolling home at teatime and trying to hide it from the folks.

Anyway... on one notable such afternoon, I remember a mild fracas was caused in there when the landlord happened to wander into the back room to collect glasses or wipe tables or summat, only to find the pool table strewn with miscellaneous clothing and the flower of the town's youth all staggering about pissed up and in various stages of undress.

After a few drinks, someone had thought it would be a laugh to have a game of strip poker in there.

Fair play, none of the lasses needed asking twice either.

Happy days!
(Fri 6th Feb 2009, 9:58, More)

» Expensive Weekends


Not really an expensive "weekend" as such, but a business trip to Manhattan not long back for my colleague and I obviously included extensive dinners (on expenses) and copious quantities of wine/cocktails (some on expenses and some not, depending on venue, extent of tab, how much detail appeared on the receipt etc. you know... the usual).

On the evening in question many, many Martinis had been quaffed on top of a fine steak dinner & bottle of red, and things were proceeding along nicely. The world had taken on a nice warm rosy glow, and the urge to hurl abuse at strangers and pick fights was beginning to assert itself. In short, it was a perfectly agreeable evening upon the town. :o)

As the evening wore on, the desire for a change of venue brought barked instructions to a cabbie from my colleague along lines of "take us to see naked ladies... and none of your knickers-on pish neither, somewhere PROPER!" and within a few minutes we rocked up outside a matt-black-painted building entrance in a nondescript back street somewhere. Perfectly anonymous save the rather large number of rather large tuxedo-sporting bouncers of various ethnicities hanging around outside.

The "blazing" stage had still not quite been achieved at this point, and the cab ride had aided that particular situation somewhat, but things were definitely a little vague. Walking proved to be somewhat of a struggle, which meant careful concentration was needed upon entering the club (there seemed to be flights of stairs, hanging curtains & mirrors everywhere positioned for the sole purpose of confusing the drunkard and hindering progress around the venue). In short order however drinks were ordered, seats obtained, and ladyflesh was duly ogled to the edification of all concerned.

Creditcards were forked over for gusset-cash & further beers (the spirits threshold having already been breached by this point) and a good time was had by all, until, within less than an hour of our arrival, the DJ announced the final performances, bouncers from outside stepped inside, and punters were briskly shepherded towards the door. A quick check of the watch told the story. 3am.

Having opted to walk back to the hotel (balmy New York evenings are so pleasant, and we had time on our hands), a brief inventory revealed the somewhat grave extent of our monopoly-monetary situation. Due as we were to leave the country the next day we were presented with a bit of a quandary as regards asset disposal, when at precisely that moment a 'gentleman of the road' was known to us, having struck up a slurred conversation with my colleague from his doorway across the street. Needless to say of course we pooled our resources and weighed the dear old chap in for the full amount.

I have no idea if he was able to use the "notes" in tender for smack (or whatever his preferred tincture) or food, or anything useful whatsoever. Or indeed if he possessed the wherewithal to turn up at the club the next night suitably attired for some gusset-stuffing action of his own, but no matter.

At the purchasers exchange rate of 1:1USD, he found himself richer by over a grand on the transaction anyway.

Well, you don't check the opening hours (fnarr) when the blood's up do you!
(Mon 17th May 2010, 13:38, More)

» School Days

Double Computer Studies...
Back in the day... what a wonderful lesson it was... a complete and utter doss...

Punched card readers *yawn* paper tape *strrrretch* RML380Z *doze* I'm sure you can imagine the sort of thing...

Typical, i'd imagine, of many Computing teachers back in the day (this would be 1985-6) ours was a bit of a libertarian ex-hippie.

So as long as we didn't take the piss too much she'd let us wear a walkman in class, or have a bit of a laugh chatting to mates, or do the homework for the next lesson from the week before... you know the sort of thing. Who were we to complain? Some bright spark did the work in about 10 minutes, which then circulated the entire class for copying, allowing the rest of the time to be spent gainfully, stabbing each other with compasses... trying to set loose items of clothing on fire with cig lighters... or, in my case, achieving a well-rounded education in the finer points of AC/DC pre Brian Johnson... but i digress.

On this particular morning, our poor hapless teacher (who shall remain nameless) was unfortunate enough to return from a trip to the little girls room with skirt FULLY tucked down back of knickers.

I've never heard louder burst of laughter contained so well behind hands clamped across mouths, rosy cheeks and watering eyes.

Of course, nobody said anything... I thought someone would take pity, because she was actually quite a nice woman, but nobody did.
She turned her back to us, gave narrative, and wrote on the board exactly as before, clearly completely unaware anything was amiss. The whole class, about 30 of us, were incapable of any kind of action or movement, or the laughter would have exploded out of us & torn the roof off the building.

For the life of me I can't remember how she twigged... maybe she dropped the chalk or something, I don't know... Or, more likely, her suspicions were aroused because we were suddenly all so quiet and well behaved... Anyway... realise she did, fractionally before realising also that none of us had seen fit to tell her.

"OH YOU LITTLE SHITS!" she screamed and ran out of the class blushing a fulsome shade of beetroot.

Now, I know what you're thinking...
They were just as you'd expect...
White, undeniably large and militarily reinforced at waist, leg and gusset .
:o)
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 15:36, More)

» School Days

Hey teacher leave us kids alone...
One of our teachers got up on the stage to give a talk or summat in assembly one Friday morning, and promptly had a heart attack & carked it right then and there.

Decorous panic and genteel chaos ensued.
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 9:59, More)
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