b3ta.com user SpongeGavShitPants
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» Guilty Laughs

Wet old men.
Last year my brother had organised a trip to the races; meet in a pub for breakfast, train to Thirsk, few pre-race pints and then the gambling can begin. The race meet is on the same day as the Thirsk market but as no-one had driven then the stalls set up in the parking bays were of no bother to us.

Typically, after a week of blazing sunshine, as soon as we disembark the train it starts raining. It's not too bad - just a bit of drizzle at first, but when we're in a pub it proper honks down as if God's own racehorse was treating us to some golden-shower action usually reserved for the German dungeon scene.

It stops raining about 30 minutes before the first race so we venture outside, avoiding the nasty big puddles along the way and keeping close to the buildings to avoid any rogue raindrops.

As we're heading out, on the other side of the pavement and heading in the opposite direction is an old man, about 80 summers old and casually perusing the wares on offer at a market stall.

A market stall with a tarpaulin roof.

A tarpaulin filled with over an hours worth of torrential, cold, rainwater....

Cue a freak, totally unprecedented gust of wind, dumping a medium-sized paddling-pool's worth of water all over the old fella. He looks down at himself in shock, then stares up at the sky, raises his fists and shouts "OH HOWAY!!!!!" as if God himself had been playing pranks on him all day and had taken it too far this time.

We made sure he was ok, and managed to get a good 4 feet away before I was doubled over gasping for breath and struggling to breathe from the waves of Schadenfruede running through me.

It was the funniest thing I've seen in a couple of years and I also came away from the racetrack £30 quid up, result!

*insert length joke*
(Fri 23rd Jul 2010, 3:02, More)

» PE Lessons

My moment
As will be familiar to many UK b3tans, the first PE lesson of your first year at secondary school will largely define your athletic status for the next 5 years, especially playing football: loud cocky and confident - striker. Tall or thick looking (preferably both) - goalkeeper etc

Being a somewhat quiet, sturdily-built young chap I was designated as a defender; meaning I was to stand around and not to interfere unless the ball came really close to me.

But over the years I actually became quite useful in the position. I made tackles with confidence, harassed any opposition player with the ball quite well, made safe passes to protect my teams lead, not too shabby.

Then one day in my fourth year I wandered out of my comfort zone and somehow ended up in the opposing team's half of the football field. A ball came loose, both the 20-something PE teacher and my best friend (the two being on the opposition team) were both inches away from taking posession; losing all reason I dived in.

Somehow, miraculously, I'd taken the ball from both of them! They were on a heap on the floor whereas I was standing and the ball was mine. We were playing rush keeper - I knew that their goal was open. This was it. This was my time to shine; I was about to score the winning goal! Head-down, I whipped my foot forward with Thor-like power and struck the ball beautifully.

I didn't take geography at school, maybe if I had instead of choosing Drama I might've been a little more aware of my surroundings. I didn't realise that running and tackling for the ball had covered about 10 metres in ground.

I almost hit the corner flag.

(Wed 25th Nov 2009, 2:39, More)

» The most childish thing you've done as an adult

25 going on 12
A couple of weeks ago my friend and I (both rather inebriated) managed to get lost walking the straight, mile-long, road home from a nightclub.

We found ourselves in a rather well-to-do area with quuite a few expensive cars parked on the roadside; it just so happened that it had been a damp evening and the windows on every single car were misted over, so we did what came naturally to two pissed-up Northern man-children at 2:45am...we drew cocks on everything!

Big ones
Little ones
Hairy ones
Circumcised ones
Ones with balls that stretched to the wing mirrors, you name it and we drew it.

Front, rear, side windows whichever took our fancy - all daubed with phalluses (or is it phallusi? I don't know, I just know how to draw them)

But the one that sticks in my mind was writing "I LOVE COCKS!" backwards on the rear window of a VW Passat, so that when the owner looked in their rear mirror they would see it and realise that they love cocks.

Thankfully I don't think we were seen as I'd be pretty pissed off if I saw a pair drunken louts loitering round my car, and I'm pretty sure we wouldn'tve been able to run away very well.

Think I'll take it easy on the booze next time.
(Tue 22nd Sep 2009, 20:21, More)

» What was I thinking?

Just remembered this!
I'm not sure if this is a common "pulling" technique anywhere apart from my slightly backwards North Eastern town, but I've seen it work before for female friends.

Essentially, once Friend A has become tired of Friend B gawping over an attractive boy, Friend A will wait till the object of desire comes within a metre or so of the group en route to the bar then suddenly shove Friend A into their path.

Some apologising and small talk inevitably follows, followed by much face-sucking, and occaissionally a relationship. Remember; I've seen it happen!

So one day I'm out with friends and on my way to the bar when suddenly a girl flies into my path (seemingly drunk from the way she's off caught balance) and falls into my arms.

"You alright love?" I ask, as I place her right-way up.
"Yeah" she smiles, looking up at me.
"Good, good" I reply.

Then carry on walking to the bar; that Jack Daniel's and Coke's got my name on it. Om nom nom!

I don't see her again.

This has happened on two seperate occassions and I never realise what *should* have happened until I get home...

Cock end!!!!
(Sun 26th Sep 2010, 6:56, More)

» Complaining

Not my complaint but...
I work at a print company, we do quite a lot of work for a rather well-known car dealership who always seem to think that they're our most important customer, that their jobs take priority and who often get quite arsey.

We once sent out a mailshot for them reminding people that their MOT's were nearly due; one bloke returned his letter to sender but not before scrawling on it in rather angry biro-strokes:


We framed it.
(Fri 3rd Sep 2010, 2:55, More)
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