» Pointless Experiments

£4.99 Children's Microscope
- used in an experiment to prove that i had manly sperm and not gay sperm, as my friend believed. You can actually see a great deal of yr lads swimming about even though it's through a kid's microscope intended for snot and hair.

Outcome: Two of my knuckle children were wriggling at each other head-on. I took this to mean that they were fighting and therefore very manly, testosterone filled shperm. My friend said they were kissing.

Result: Inconclusive.




As a happy epilogue to this story, I moved out of that flat soon after the experiment, forgetting I'd left my test tube of love juice on top of a bookshelf. I opened the tube and the fermented stench was so powerful that someone had to throw up their partially digested dinner three floors away.
(Thu 24th Jul 2008, 12:36, More)

» School Days

Freddy Krueger Poo Fear
This is taken from some e-mail correspondence concerning embarassing shit stories. I know all of you here at b3ta love shit, and it just so happens that it happened while I was at school.



I was five years old and in the first year of proper school. Nursery was filled with turd stories, but this was when I was beginning to be a real boy.

The night before the day in question, I had foolishly sat down and watched Nightmare on Elm Street. This was not wise for a sensitive five-year old. The following day I was tormented by visions of murderers with pizza over their faces and really long nails.

Then, about ten-thirty am (I remember it so well), I felt the need for a shit. However, I could obviously not go to the toilet, because OBVIOUSLY Freddy Krueger was in the adjacent cubicle, waiting for my child's arse to be displayed before murdering me on the job. (I am in no way insinuating that Krueger is a paedophile.)

There was one option - to shit myself. I vividly remember gurning and straining the turd out and rising a good two inches off my seat because of it.

(Aside - I am very short sighted, but this was not found out until I was six. As such, everything my five year old mind remembers is a shambling mess of blurry colours. I am trying to remember the reactions of the teachers of fellow pupils, but alas, I could not see them.)

So then, there I was, cack in pants, happily continuing my work. I remember the teacher coming over to me, about an hour after the ejection of faeces and asking 'Robert, do you need to go to the toilet?'. I also remember my chiming reply: 'No thank you miss!'

I also remember one of the other boys, Christopher, who was sat next to me and believed he was confiding in me about the terrible smell somewhere in the classroom. He was all like 'That smells been following us around. Who do you think did it?'

I feigned ignorance.


Anyway, home-time came. That makes it a stunning four and a half hours sat with caked-on shit in my pants. As I was walking home, holding my mother's hand, she said to me 'Have you stepped in dog poo, love?'

'No.'

'Are you sure? It smells terrible here.'

'No, I haven't, mam.'

'Are you positive?'

'Yes. I've shit myself.'

I remember saying that last sentence with a fair amount of glee.


I also remember my mother running home in order to prise the shitty kecks off me.


I don't remember much after that, apart from my father coming home from work, and me running over to him completely nude and shouting 'I SHIT MYSELF IN SCHOOL TODAY'. All the while, my mother was at the bathroom sink, chipping at the now solid mass of child-excrement.

Needless to say, the pants went in the bin.
(Thu 29th Jan 2009, 20:41, More)

» Pubs

Hardest OAP on earth
I have a job in a working men's club right in the centre of town. As a result, we get drunken teenagers coming in on the weekends that regularly piss off the alleged 'working men'.

Now, one of the members of the committee in this club was kind of the local hard bastard aswell. His name was Tommy and he was kind of friendly and would help you out and not really complain too much.

Anyway, one friday, a group of students on the rag-week (do they still call it that? these crazy youngsters nowadays.) came in dressed as various superheroes, one of which was Superman.

As the night went on, Superman got more pissed. Most of his mates had left him, and he was kind of wandering around the different bars trying to look surreptitious (dressed as Superman) and buying more and more of the delicious beverage Stella Artois.

After a while, the bar staff noticed that Superman hadn't been seen in a while, until I turned to look at the CCTV screen - where I saw Tommy wrestling with Superman in the car park. I don't know if Superman pissed anyone off, or if Tommy just fancied a fight.

What I do know is that I cannot look at Superman the same way now I've seen him getting leathered by an old man.
(Fri 6th Feb 2009, 1:29, More)

» Tramps

window-popper terrifies local student
So, when I was at university, I was unfortunate enough to be sharing a house with eleven other people. What's worse is that I occupied the first room (Room 0), which was the very front room of the house, the enormous windows facing the busiest thoroughfare of this particular town. It was also an ancient house, with them kind of slidy windows you only really see in wartime films or cowboy shows.

Anyway, I was in my room, happily smoking a joint one evening, looking at porn on my uni-funded laptop - and to my surprise I had found that the town tramp had silently slid up the side window, poked his head through the space and was quietly watching me. I noticed him, instantly became terrified, (closed down the porn sites), and inquired as to his motives for becoming a peeping tom.

"Have you got the internet by there on that computer have you is it?"
(The university was in Wales)

I nodded.

"Right tidy, go here on the internet will you then, and go to this place then will you?"

He handed me a scrumpled note upon which was scrawled the address for a self-tattooing kit. I loaded up the site for him and he looked in awe. He was getting pretty comfortable at this point, poking his head further in, leaning his elbow on the sill.

"Ahhh, tidy! Look at that! Tidy mun, tattoos innit! Nice one, lush mun!"

I neglected to mention earlier that even though he was being fairly polite with me (despite the ninja-like opening of my window), he was one of those hard-looking tramps with tattoos all over his rotting face. As he looked at my computer screen I fearfully looked at him, willing him to disappear behind the curtain and out of my room forever.

"Listen butt, 'ow much is that kit by there on that computer?"

It was something like £60.

"Ahh tidy son, now listen, will'ew buy that for me and have it delivered here and then what I'll do is come back to this window and pay you for it is it, tidy?"

This fucking tramp was using my window as a business opportunity.

I was terrified by this point. I agreed and mumbled some computer jargon to confuse the tramp. I then proceeded to pretend to order the kit and tell him the estimated delivery time would be about two months.

"Two fucking months? Duw, I thought the fucking internet was fucking quicker than that! Hahaha!"

And then, just like that, he swooped backwards out of my window and was gone. I shut that window with so much fucking force that I'm surprised I didn't trap my now-utterly limp cock in it. I locked the window and the front door. I didn't sleep much that night. I left the house soon after.




I visited the house recently since the story above took place about three years ago now. The (my) front room's window had been smashed in, and the room had been gutted by someone, leaving only rotted cardboard boxes and my old mattress on the floor. I hope I never bump into that hard tattoo-wearing tramp. He'll probably kill me.
(Tue 7th Jul 2009, 13:35, More)

» Top Tips

Fat Ladies...
... eat cakes and other confectionery using only your fingertips, making yourself appear dainty.
(Tue 22nd Jul 2008, 17:31, More)