b3ta.com user Helmut McBucket
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Profile for Helmut McBucket:
Profile Info:


Recent front page messages:


Best answers to questions:

» What was I thinking?

The Amazing Shitting Cardboard Box!
I remember one time years ago, I was about 10 or 11 years old and a couple of my mates and I were just making our way home after a kickabout in the park.

It was a cracking summers day during the school holidays, we were all in a jovial mood and life was good. I was, however, bursting for a shite and was in a bit of a rush to get home. We were passing a private car park behind a sports hall when I spotted a massive oblong cardboard box.

That was when I had my 'brainwave'.

"Watch this!" I said to my mates.

The plan was to pull the box over my head and crouch inside it, take down my breeks and skegs, curl out a perfectly formed steaming turd, do myself up again and then move away from it whilst still inside the box. In my head I imagined that this would be the most spectacular thing my friends would ever see in their lives, this marvellous image of a shitting box!

Well, it didn't quite work out that way.

After lowering the box over myself and dropping my jeans and Ys, I squatted and let go.

It was utter fucking carnage.

My poor wee arse exploded and slurrys of stagnant shite splattered the inside and outside of my pants and jeans. It was all over the backs of my legs, my socks and my trainers. And the smell! Sweet Jebus, that fucking smell. And I hadn't even thought about what I was going to wipe my arse with!

I threw the box off in a panic and stood there speechless looking at my pals, my denims half up/down with most of my bottom half covered in my own waste. They stared back with looks of shock and terror, then after realising what had just happened they erupted with laughter and glee. Bastards.

I somehow made it home without drawing too much attention to myself and told my mum that I had fell in dog shit. Thankfully she didn't pursue the issue of how dog shite had ended up on the inside of my jeans and all over my pants.

Not my brightest moment.
(Sun 26th Sep 2010, 0:58, More)

» Family Feuds

Dirty Laundry Basket Warfare
So there we were all those years ago, a family of four.

Mum, Dad, big sis and me. I loved being the youngest, centre of attention and spoiled fucking rotten. Not necessarily the fault of my parents just more down to the fact of me being a little cunt sometimes. Xmas's and birthdays were especially magic mainly because Mum worked in a local toy shop and liked to bring her work home with her, if you know what I mean. Then when I was 7 years old everything changed.

Mum fanny-farted out my little brother Fucket (not real name) in hospital and days later her and Dad brought him into the home to an excited sister and a largely unimpressed me. This was not good. Not good at all.

Suddenly all the attention switched from me to him and I was not best pleased. Over the years my pile of Xmas and birthday presents would rapidly decrease while my brother would be surrounded by illegaly procured A-Team and He-Man toys.

Years of torture towards my brother started, at first it was relatively tame for example like the time he was 3 and I was given the task of looking after him while Mum went shopping. She left me the front door key and me and my brother were out the back court playing football he suddenly exclaims 'I need a poo!'

After about 5 minutes of him pleading with me I eventually agreed to go let him in. We only lived one floor up but I took as long as I could taking the stairs very slowly making sure two feet were firmly on each step before commencing the next.

Another few minutes pass and we reach the front door and I pretend I can't get the key in the lock, comically missing the keyhole at the very last second every time. He's bawling his eyes out and holding his arse and I'm laughing like fuck. I eventually open the door and he makes a beeline for the toilet but he had already shat some in his pants.

As he got older he would retaliate a bit more and thats when the dirty laundry would start being used as weapons in our war. One day we were having a fight over him beating me at table football so I ran into Mums room and got a pair of my Dads work socks out the dirty washing basket, they were hard at the toes and smelled like sick. I pinned my bro down on the bed and rammed one of the socks into his mouth. It was fantastic and how I laughed as he boaked with tears streaming down his eyes.

Over time we would get more elaborate, such as one of us planting foul smelling socks in between the others pillow and pillow-case so that the aroma would be breathed in overnight. Then one day when we were playing computer games, the little fucker wins again so he gets a slap to the head. He says he's going to grass me to Mum so back to the washing basket I go and see a pair of my Mums dirty pants and it's evidently that time of month. Into the room I run and grab my brother, get him down and instead of the manky socks he was probably expecting he was treated to a mouthful of crusty gusset. The war was won.

Of course I feel guilty over the way I treated my brother all those years and told him so over beers and smoke years later, he said it toughened him up and that sometimes he deserved it cos he could be a pain in the arse. We have a good laugh over it now, we're great mates and we have not fought since the time he smacked me on the back of the head with a dog chain after I stabbed him in the leg with a fork.

I am thinking of resurrecting the laundry wars next time Mum invites the family round for dinner.
(Sun 15th Nov 2009, 2:24, More)

» Real-life slapstick

Attack of the Plastic Bag!
One day a few years back I had just finished work and me and my mate were stood at the bus stop. The weather was hellish that day with the driving wind and pissing rain only adding to our impatience as we waited for the bus into town at the shelterless stop.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a plastic carrier bag about a hundred yards away bag being blown all over the road and spiralling upwards in the wind.

So there we were just chatting and then I turned to look and see if the fucking bus was coming yet, that's when I was attacked.

The wind had blown the bag from all the way along the road and now the bastard was attached firmly to my face! What the fuck? It was like a white skinned face hugger from Alien with an Asda tattoo on it's back.

I immediately removed the bag from my face only to be greeted by the sight of a rush hour packed bus waiting at the stop with pretty much all the passengers all pissing themselves and some pointing at me. My friend couldn't talk at that point and it looked as if he was suffering from sort of seizure such was his enjoyment of my humilation.

I waited for the next bus.

(Tue 26th Jan 2010, 0:09, More)

» Bedroom Disasters

It's not how it looks!
Years ago it was, I was about 10 and my wee brother was 4 years old. We shared a room back then, which I wasn't too chuffed about and is also why I sometimes inflicted a substantial amount of cruelty and brotherly bullying onto the poor bugger throughout his childhood. All good natured you understand.

Anyway on this particular night I was having a good old game of Pitfall 2 or something on the Atari, when my wee brother woke up crying. Now with Mum and Dad in the living room watching the telly, the last thing I wanted was for them to come in assuming that I had belted him and bring an end to my computer-game fun. So I go over to his bed to find out what's wrong with him and soon realise that the poor bastard's PJ's and sheets are soaked in pish. I felt a surge of pity for him and in a rare show of compassion from myself, I decide to help him cover up his accident.

Bad move.

So, he's stood on the bed. I help him off with his sodden pyjama trousers and hide them under the bed, I then tell him to take his pants off. He tries but because they're soaked they end up all twisted and sticking to him, so I decide to help him.

And that's when Dad walked in.

Just in time to see my brother standing on the bed in tears, with me on my knees trying to pull down his underpants.

Took some explaining that did.
(Fri 24th Jun 2011, 23:21, More)

» Bizarre habits

I have a filthy habit.
Stole it out of a nun's bin after she shat herself.
(Sun 4th Jul 2010, 0:40, More)
[read all their answers]