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Profile for greg_evigan:
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Born in South Amboy, New Jersey, Greg Evigan auditioned and won a part in the Broadway show "Jesus Christ Superstar" one month after graduating from high school. He also joined the cast of another touring company, playing the lead in the musical "Grease". He has had much success in television and has had two hit series, "B.J. and the Bear" (1978) and "My Two Dads" (1987).

Recent front page messages:

Can I be what I believe they call "a reposting cunt?"
And then go off on a ramble?



Lovely thread for a Saturday morning, but I kinda got told a few days ago that I ain't got long left. I have not posted on here for long and I know that a lot of people won't know anything about me but last year I was diagnosed with bowel cancer and have undergone a ridiculous amount of treatment and surgery to fix it. Two days ago, they told me that there was nothing left that they could do other make me comfortable for the inevitable.

Despite being a B3tan for years, I never really started posting until the summer when recovering from an op. The humour on here has helped me through so much and I have been surprised by how well my crap puns have been received. Sadly, there seems to have been a few B3ta related deaths recently, but they shall never take our Teh Quo or Dick Beattie!

Basically, I'm taking the chance to say thank you to a bunch of internet strangers, if this is inappropriate fell free to delete mod-people. Not been able to do much new lately but here is one of my favourite crap-jokes what I spent far too long on.

Cheers and keep up the good work!

*Edit* Thank you so much for the FP and all the comments, it really is touching how kind people can be during dark times!
(Sat 12th Jan 2013, 8:04, More)

Sorry...

(Thu 8th Nov 2012, 18:14, More)

Ah, the old one's are always the best!


Edit: My first front pager, woo!
(Fri 20th Jul 2012, 13:53, More)

Best answers to questions:

» Narrow Escapes

When I were a lad....
At the age of 3, I was taken on holiday for the first time to some coastal place in France. I have very little memory of this trip with the exception of being sick on the bus for the whole nine hour trip there (which I am told severely pissed off a coach-full of pensioners) and the following tale...

We were relaxing on the beach a couple of days into the holiday, my mum having a nap and my day reading a book whilst my brother and I play with a crappy plastic football.... Well I say that, my brother was doing that typical elder sibling thing whereby he played with the ball and told me I wasn't allowed to. "What an utter cunt" thinks I. Actually, that is probably a lie as I was only 3 and had yet to add the word 'cunt' to my vocabulary... "What a jobbyhead" thinks I.

Turning to look out the sea, I see about fifty balls, just floating there, not a soul playing with them. They are beckoning me like sirens to come and enjoy their ball-like greatness! It is probably the greatest sight I have ever seen in my entire (rather short) life! So I start to run. Faster than I've ever run before, as there are quite a lot of French children on the beach and there is no chance they're getting to play with my balls (snigger). I somehow manage to speed up my wee legs even more as I enter the home straight, the sea is now but meters away...

Now I probably should mention that at such a young age, I couldn’t swim. I also had no armbands on and was fully clothed as my parents didn't want me to burn. About two meters from the sea, I was rugby tackled by my dad. I have never seen my dad run. He has a gammy leg which prevented him from being the sporty type for most of his life. As I was so focused on the footballs in the sea, I never noticed him running on this occasion, which is a shame really as it was the first time he had ran in 20 years and also the last time he ever ran.

As I was led back up to the sun lounger, which seemed to be miles away, I was getting a bollocking from my out-of-breath dad. I tried to protest my innocence; I had only wanted to play with the glorious sea balls.

It turns out we were on a beach next to a harbour and I had just attempted to sprint off the end of a jetty into a rather busy dock, to claim a buoy to play with.

I've never been allowed to forget this.
(Fri 20th Aug 2010, 11:36, More)

» Easiest Job Ever

This could probably have been posted under the Professions I Hate QOTW
although I'm not entirely sure if it is a profession....

A while I back I was idly flicking through the TV channels during a weekday, hoping to find Cash in the Attic or some form of celebrity fishmongering reality show (which either may or should exist). I briefly settled on BBC 1 to see some kind of procession involving the Queen. As the Queen made her way through a crowded street waving, an easy job in itself, a voiceover from the studio commentated on the proceedings, another seemingly easy job. However, the shittiest/easiest line of employment was then introduced by said pundit....

"We now go over to the official BBC Queen's Jewellery Commentator."

"Thank you. As you can see, the Queen is today wearing the brooch presented to her by the King of Belgium after he fisted her on Easter Sunday of 1976*. This is its first outing since March 1982, and I think you'll all remember that it rained that day."

"What an intriguing analysis. Thank you Benjamin**."

"....."

That was this guys job. Thirty seconds talking about a broche once every couple of months. This raises a number of questions;

1) How does one go about getting this job?
2) Why would one want this job?
3) Why is my TV licence fee being used to keep this guy in a job?
4) Who actually wants to know about the Queen's bloody brooch!?

I have tried searching the internets to find out more about this position but to no avail.



* This event may not have happened. And Belgium may not have a king.
** Name may not be accurate. He sounded like a Benjamin.
(Thu 9th Sep 2010, 16:15, More)

» Drugs

Mixing alcohol with drugs....
I once mixed drink with Head-B-Clear and woke up in a coffin!

Luckily I had a chisel which I could use to get out of the coffin, only to find myself in a crypt. Then I met my old friend Stan who tried to sell me life insurance.

What an ordeal, I won't be mixing booze and drugs again... Look behind you, a three-headed monkey!
(Fri 17th Sep 2010, 12:32, More)

» Annoying words and phrases

Gates and Coholics
This has been annoying me for some time now. The Watergate scandal was generally referred to as 'Watergate' as it occurred at the Watergate. I'm not sure if it is just lazy journalism, but suddenly anything remotely scandalous becomes a -gate.

Take for example 'Pizzagate.' For anyone who does not remember this scandal, a football player threw a bit of pizza at a manager. Suddenly it's an outrageous incident to known as 'Pizzagate.'

Now, I may be wrong but a) Pizza has nothing to with gates and b) One man throwing a bit of dough at another man bears very little comparison to an act of deceit and corruption exposing criminal activity within one of the most powerful governments on the planet.

On a similar note, alcoholics are called alcoholics as they have a fondness for alcohol. I am not aware of any such thing as 'chocohol', 'shopahol', 'workahol' or 'sexahol' (I'm slightly surprised at the latter, it could easily be some kind of bright, diabetes inducing, WKD style chav-drink).

Anyway, enough ranting for me. I'm becoming a rantoholic...
(Thu 8th Apr 2010, 16:59, More)

» Home Science

It's magnesium powder, I swear!
When I had just started high school, science lessons were winsome. For the first time, we had classes that involved fire and chemicals and gases and explosions and stuff!

One of the first experiments I can remember being shown was a simple 'un - Stick a bit of magnesium ribbon over a Bunsen burner and watch it go up in flames with a magnificent flash! Like any eager young scientist, I had to replicate this. So at the end of our lesson, I stuck a handful of the stuff into my pocket to take home.

That night when my folks were out, I pinched my brothers lighter and attempted to create science... Clearly the flame wasn't powerful enough. Nothing happened.

Ah-ha, thinks I, the cooker is basically a giant Bunsen burner! So off I go to the kitchen and recreate the class with the help of some barbecue tongs. After having much fun (I was 12, it was fun, honestly!) I went back to playing Championship Mannager or watching Robot Wars or something else that I did in the nineties.

An hour or so later, and I am startled by my screaming mother:

"ARE YOU DOING DRUGS!?"

I had forgotten to clean the white powdery residue from the kitchen worktops. Obviously the only possibility was that a twelve year old had access to cocaine, could afford cocaine and was snorting cocaine from the kitchen worktop on a Tuesday night.

I'm still not convinced she believed my excuse.
(Fri 10th Aug 2012, 0:46, More)
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