b3ta.com user Heyzeus
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» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

Throwing stuff out
Recently had the task of helping clear out my mate's house after he died.

The task of disposing the pron fell onto myself and was detailed here:


I know it's not technically an answer to the qotw but it was his funeral yesterday :(
(Thu 14th Aug 2008, 22:21, More)

» Get Rich Quick

Charity begins at home
I pay off the local vets for Labrador corpses. I then laminate them and put them on display where there's a lot of footfall.

Like this:

I'm not claiming this idea as my own as most of my childhood was spent similarly ensconced in plastic with leg braces on. Cheers Dad.

That slot's a bastard when it rains.
(Thu 31st Jul 2008, 17:53, More)

» Cheap Tat

My mum loves a bargain and places absolutely no value on quality.

She loves poundshops, and actually brought me to tears a couple of years ago when she proudly declared that she'd done the Christmas shopping at B&M. It's a family joke that she's so tightarsed that her shit's like cotton reeling off a bobbin.

However even mum surpassed her previous tightarsery the year that she sent me and the bro Christmas cards.

Aye, Christmas cards.

Given to her by my sister.

Whose husband runs a printers.

Who'd been given some sample Christmas card prints.

With the word SAMPLE ptinted on them.

On the front.

On the back

And on the inside.

She wasn't even inventive enough to make light of it all by doing summat like:

To Heyzeus,

Merry Christmas


some ale and have a great time,

love mum x.
(Sun 6th Jan 2008, 0:31, More)

» Get Rich Quick

Darth Vader
Darth, you're often made out to be the ultimate bad guy, yet not once did we hear of you being in it for the money (yes I'm looking at you Han Solo, and ok you joined the alliance in the end but that was really for the poontang wasn't it? And your so-called mate Lando, he was only in Bespin for the profits really and even then he sold you out to keep his moneymaking schemes protected)

Poor, misunderstood Darth.

There was no massive safe featured anywhere in any of the death star plans. No planet 'MBNA IV' where you kept your stash.

You had all of those stormtroopers to feed, the construction workers to pay, not forgetting the investment required in water filtration and waste management. Yet you never heard your guys complain about facilities, condition or pay.

All of those guns to buy, ships to build - and you built massive ships Darth - not forgetting your constant reinvestment into developing technologies. You kept your men in the very best of equipment which surely would go some way to saving their lives in the line of duty. A noble thing indeed.

Hell, your own outfit, which you wore for years, didn't have pockets; not even a place to keep an egg card, and you even stuck with the old trusted lightsaber you had as a young adult.

Even as second in command in the universe you didn't employ any servants. Why have someone there just to fetch you what you need when a wave of the hand or the odd mind trick can save on such unecessary overheads?

Sure, you were brutal, but you didn't waste money on unecessary PR, press conferences, spin and such like. You just did what you did using your own resourcefulness.

The planets that you ruled were pretty well kept. You didn't see them being stripped of their natural resources, nor did you ever heard Mon Mothma talk about it as a reason to remove you from power.

Sure, there were taxes, people had to be kept in line from time to time. Yet it was never for personal financial gain, you had a universe to rule and taxes helped maintain the status quo and standard of living. OK, there were victims. There always are. Collateral damage we call it now.

I mean though, you didn't even have your own TV network to brainwash the masses with, nor did you luncheon with other leading businessfolk in the universe and do contras to line their pockets and keep you in power.

You were just a simple guy who wanted to rule the universe whilst maintaining your Sith belief system.

Poor misunderstood you, Darth. The evilest bad guy ever.

Whilst here on earth we vote in Blair and Bush who do much worse than you ever did.
(Fri 1st Aug 2008, 8:48, More)

» My most gullible moment

One dad one cup
When I was about 7 or 8 my dad sat me down one night and told me a story. A story that placed the Heyzeus family firmly within the history books and made me feel special, chosen by the gods, to have been born into the clan. For we were historymakers and the world was indebted to us.

With such a proud boast on my mind I waited until a special ocassion to regale this story. An ocassion where it would reach the masses and major Pwnage would be wrought upon my peers and I would truly be idolised.

The ocassion came a few weeks later. The class show and tell.

My 'show' wasn't all that. Just an Aston Villa football kit. For it was the 'tell' that would be the coup de grace.

THe story that young Heyzeus stood up to tell went as thus.

When my dad was a young man he played for Aston Villa reserves (a fact proven to me previously by his medals and other keepsakes).

It was during the final months of WW2 and Villa had made it through to the FA cup final. Dad agonised over whether he would be selected for the team that grand day, and due to several first team players being called up to fight the hun, he did indeed get the chance he so was so desparately waiting for.

The game was a dour affair by all accounts but towards the end of the game the ball came to my dad on the wing. He dribbled past one. Past two. Then faced with a couple of burly players between him and the goal my dad stopped and, thinking quickly, chipped the ball up and executed a perfect overhead kick into the top corner. From about 30 yards out or something.

It was the only goal of the game and my dad had scored the winning goal in an FA cup final.

As the team made their way towards the steps, to receive the cup and medals from the queen, the team captain told my dad that as he'd scored such a great goal, the likes Wembley had never seen before and would never see again, and because he was the youngest, he could be the one to lift the cup.

'Go on son, you've cheered the nation up. You deserve it'.

Walking wearily up the 39 steps, receiving high fives, handshakes and scarves from the fans, my dad looked up and what's this??

It's Adolf Hitler stood there in amongst the crowd!!

Instinctively, my dad reached down his shorts, pulled a gun out ('we all carried guns back then' he said, 'you know, just in case') and shot hitler two-times square in his chest. Hitler was killed instantly.

The crowd cheered, and the Queen gave way with the formalities and planted a kiss on my dad's cheek. Whispering a 'thank you' for saving the country, ending the war, and for scoring the winning goal.

After proudly telling this tale to my classmates there was a stunned silence. THe teacher, blown away with my tale, flustered and brought up the next speaker.

Of course, one phone call from school to home later, I felt so bloody stupid.

You see, my Dad was born in 1943 which would have made him 18 months old at best when he did this remarkable act.

How I could miss out such a detail that made the story even more astounding I'll never know!
(Mon 25th Aug 2008, 11:37, More)
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