b3ta.com user drunkenfud
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» Cheap Tat

Cheap Bike
In my financially challenged youth, I once bought a bike from a classified ad in the local freesheet. After a few days the back brake stopped working, but since the front brake still worked fine I wasn't too bothered (Can you guess where this is going?).

I used to use this bike to get to and from work, and to go home at lunchtime since the dysentery on offer from the work canteen didn't appeal. I lived in a quiet village, and there was rarely any traffic in the middle of the day. I'd got into the habit of barely slowing down at a blind t-junction en-route (You can definitely guess where this is going!).

Anyway, one day late as usual, I was heading back to work as fast as my hairy little legs could carry me. I approached the junction, gave a feather-light touch to the brakes and casually glanced left.

There was a car coming.

I slammed on both brakes so hard I probably left finger marks in the brake levers. The back break did nothing, the front brake gripped the wheel harder than a pikey gripping his dole cheque.

Over the handlebars I go. Amazingly I managed to execute a perfect somersault and land on my feet. Had there been judges watching, all would have held up cards with 10 written on them.

"Well, that's didn't go too badly," thinks I, "That was actually kind of cool".

I didn't guess where it was going.

The bike saddle hit me on the back of the head, and the cheap cast iron bike frame came crashing down on me, propelling me into the path of the oncoming car. Thankfully the driver had decent reflexes, so my only injuries were grazed palms and bruised dignity.

Length? Just over a metre and made of cast iron.
(Fri 4th Jan 2008, 10:01, More)

» Kids

Chicken Plops
When I was a kid, as most kids do, I contracted the affliction known to the lower classes as chicken pox. In an amusing case of juvenile mispronunciation I called it "chicken plops".

One day, whilst perusing that emporium of delight known at the time as "Woolco", now Woolworths, I hapened to see a teenage punk. This was around 1982, I was 6.

The acne of the aforementioned punk was delightful to my infant eye. I was no longer alone. "Look, Mum," I cried "He's got chicken plops too!"

And as the adolescent punk tried to scurry away hoping the earth would swallow him up, my cries of "Are your chicken plops itchy?" no doubt rang in his ears.
(Thu 17th Apr 2008, 15:27, More)

» My Biggest Disappointment

Gronksan, Professor Kenny Martin
You've no idea how disappointed I was as a 5 year old kid when I first saw spinach after badgering my mum to buy it for weeks.

She was right, I didn't like it. And it didn't turn my skinny biceps into anvils or pistons.

Popeye's a bastard
(Fri 27th Jun 2008, 15:17, More)

» Pet Peeves

Godbotherers who also want to bother me
OK, so you've found the Lord. I get it. Go to church and bugger a choirboy, or whatever it is that Christians do. Just don't bother me when I'm trying to spend a quiet Saturday shopping.

It only happens occasionally in the UK, but here in Korea I swear it happens every weekend. I'm thinking about getting a t-shirt made that says (in Korean) "Fuck off you godbothering cunt, I don't want to go to your church".
(Thu 1st May 2008, 23:29, More)

» Karma

Haha you stepped on shit!
Me and two friends, aged around 12, were aimlessly wondering around as you do at that age. Ally, as usual, was stoically enduring being the butt of our puerile jokes. He was the type of person whose every utterance would lend itself to a homoerotic double entendre and as such kept myself and my friend Robbie well amused.

Anyway, Robbie stepped on the biggest, wheatiest dog turd you've ever seen. His foot slid forward for about a metre. Of course, such an unfortunate instance is comedy gold to a 12 year old.

Seizing the chance to get one back on his tormentor, Ally started squealing and taunting "You stepped on dog shit! You stepped on dog shit!" (his rapier-like wit not failing him at his moment of triumph). As he did so, he was running out of range of Robbie's fists.

Unfortunately he didn't see the lamppost, but the lamppost saw him at close range. He was a chunky monkey and was running quite fast, so his velocity made the lamppost bend about a foot out and vibrate back into place. It made a noise like a ruler twanged from a desk only much louder.

When Robbie and I could walk again, we laughed at him and made many cruel jibes. The next day, when we saw his hideously swollen face we laughed some more.

Bad karma kicked Ally in the teeth but strangely enough it didn't do anything to me or Robbie. Must have been because of the blow job Robbie gave to that shaven headed, saffron clad tramp.
(Thu 21st Feb 2008, 15:01, More)
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