b3ta.com user Radio Vicky
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Profile for Radio Vicky:
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Hello there.

Been a huge fan of B3TA for YEARS now, and have only just thought to join up. By day I am a comdey writer and radio presenter, by night I go home and sleep.

I've been trying to meet cool new people on MySpace and in the Post Office queue, but non of them seem to get my Morrisian sense of humour. Here, hopefully, I will find a whole herd of like-minded people to discuss filth, cosmology and fucking terrible Photo-Shop with.

Hear my filthy rap tunes and Frank Sidebottom and me on the radio together HERE: www.myspace.com/happyaccidentrock


PS the message board still scares me. What does it all MEAN?

Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» Easiest Job Ever

8 inch commute saves shit stripper from life of prostitution
So I've done years in call centres, harrasing gullible old ladies of an evening to buy first aid kits and extensions on their catalogue repayments.
I've worked for four years in McDonalds and only achieved two stars.
I've grafted in the local radio industry for ten years, writing inane adverts, annoying jingles, and getting managerial bollockings every two days for my 'exuberant personality.'
I've worked hard and always earned SHIT MONEY.

So when I got made redundant from my radio job due to the credit crunch, I thought it was the end of the world. I applied for many unsuitable jobs, and even did a highly unsuccessful stint as a stripper (trust me, I'm not half bad to look at with top legs and even topper titties, but strangely, getting a dance is more about what you SAY to the guy, not how pert your teats are. Seems the gents don't like to be outwitted by smart ladies - I earned FECK all. In fact, I was about to go and work in one of the less respectable clubs where 'touchy feely time' is allowed before I got rescued from an unlikely source)

I spent a fairly pleasant ten months out of work, writing my book and attempting to show my nudie bits to unwilling men, and then...my redundancy pay ran out. FUCK.

On the day this happened, I got THE FEAR. Don't send me back to the dark place! I'm an office retard, I can't brew up and I say offensive things to my colleagues that I think are piss funny.

And then it came and saved me. BINGO! A mate of my brother's needed some SEO articles writing for his bingo site - they paid well and I could sit on my arse at home, no phonecalls off clients, no irritating colleagues, no shit for me to put my foot in with management.

And here's the easy bit. After just 8 months, I now have a £32k per year client list, and all I have to do is get up in the morning, commute EIGHT INCHES to my desk and dictate 10 - 15 inane little articles in to a bluetooth headset which speeds up my writing by 300 - 500%.

I can now churn out about one every 5-10 mins - and work is plentiful and easy to find.

I feel so guilty that others have to actually commute, work/live down mines for four months at a time/milk turkeys - and the best thing about it? I can work anywhere in the world as long as it has wifi and BEER.

Love from Vicky, currently travelling the US of A with a laptop on her knee.
(Sat 11th Sep 2010, 3:01, More)

» Crappy relationships

DGM. Know what it stands for?

Seriously, kids. How many young uns do you know who pop the question just so the girl can have a day dressed as a deflated meringue and spend 8 thousand quid on getting the pageboy's y-fronts to match the upholstery of the car?

How many of your friends and parents are divorced, or are married but unhappy, or having affairs?

It's what I say to all my 30-something mates now. DGM. The statistics say it will end in divorce. DBAS. And that stands for Don't Become Another Statistic. Arguing over who gets the George Foreman Grill.
(Wed 27th Oct 2010, 22:09, More)

» Drugs

OK, B3TA. I am an undercover police woman.
I won't tell anybody about your illegal crimes, but only if you hand over all your drugs right now. Yes, you, even with that spliff 'hidden' in your fag pack. And you girl, with those three pills in your bra.

Come on, or else it's down the station.

Thank you.

(works every fucking time.)
(Fri 17th Sep 2010, 1:05, More)

» Drugs

Ecstasy = fanny ache. Alternative needed, please!
It started in Ibiza a few years ago. Must be the crystals in the MDMA fucking up my kidneys. Since then, I have discovered that ecstasy gives me crippling, cry baby bunting, debilitating, intensely painful CYSTITIS for many, many hours.

I can only abate it by drinking gallons of salty cystitis sachets, which are basically cranberry brine. And we all know what happens when you drink salt water, don't we? Major pukesville. So when ever I take a pill, I get locked in a cystitis/vomiting cycle that excludes me from the party.

Also, pills tend to make me blue for weeks nowadays and for some reason, they make me hate my mum. Knocking them on the head means we argue far less so at least SHE'S feeling the benefit.

I stopped taking them. Actually, that's bollocks, I will continue to neck them, and I WILL NEVER LEARN. Even if Mr Bronson wrote it on a blackboard and yelled it in my face. FUCKING gutted when they made all that meow illegal as that had become my replacement.

Off to live in Ibiza for the winter, can anyone recommend an alternative?

Length - about 6 hours of agony on the toilet unable to release a single drop, gripping the walls and groaning in agony. But still feeling kinda niiiiiice....
(Thu 16th Sep 2010, 22:27, More)