Profile for TheMattInAHat:
Welsh Man who takes pictures of stuff for money. Usually grumpy. Father of the Little Lady Hat.
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
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- a member for 8 months and 1 day
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- has posted 25 stories and 76 replies on question of the week
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Welsh Man who takes pictures of stuff for money. Usually grumpy. Father of the Little Lady Hat.
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | High |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | High |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | High |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Extreme |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Very High |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Very High |
Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Unexpected Nudity
Hotel
A number of years ago, and for reasons totally irrelevant to this story I found my good self having to share a hotel room with my dearest Dad.
I was knackered, so retired to bed, leaving Hat Snr to prop up the bar.
Having drifted off into my much deserved sleepy time the unmistakable sound of Pissed Bloke Trying To Be Quiet started to intrude, followed by my retinas burning as the twat turned the light on. Rolling over to lie on my side, I opened my eyes ready to berate the noisy fucker.
I have since learned that at that point he was desperately trying to remove his trousers in a way that only a pissed bloke can, ie. hopping round on one leg as he bends over to try and free his foot from a trouser leg.
What I actually saw, and filling my whole field of vision, was his naked arse, as he slowly toppled backwards.
And sat on my face...
This was how I came to call my dearest Dad a stupid cunt for the very first time.
(Tue 2nd Jun 2009, 18:57, More)
Hotel
A number of years ago, and for reasons totally irrelevant to this story I found my good self having to share a hotel room with my dearest Dad.
I was knackered, so retired to bed, leaving Hat Snr to prop up the bar.
Having drifted off into my much deserved sleepy time the unmistakable sound of Pissed Bloke Trying To Be Quiet started to intrude, followed by my retinas burning as the twat turned the light on. Rolling over to lie on my side, I opened my eyes ready to berate the noisy fucker.
I have since learned that at that point he was desperately trying to remove his trousers in a way that only a pissed bloke can, ie. hopping round on one leg as he bends over to try and free his foot from a trouser leg.
What I actually saw, and filling my whole field of vision, was his naked arse, as he slowly toppled backwards.
And sat on my face...
This was how I came to call my dearest Dad a stupid cunt for the very first time.
(Tue 2nd Jun 2009, 18:57, More)
» Unexpected Nudity
Many years ago...
...and a young MattInAHat had embarked on the great adventure of living in sin with the artist formerly known as Mrs Hat. Unfortunately living with She of the Spectacular Norkage was not the filthy, sordid fuck fest that I had previously envisaged and pretty soon we had gone from liberally exchanging bodily fluids at every given opportunity to the kind of sexless existence usually found on the problem page of the Mail on Sunday.
As another evening was being endured watching shite on a fuzzy portable television, my beloved's sweet voice drifted through the icy atmosphere.
"I'm out of fags. Nip round the shop and get me some"
"Of course my sweet" I replied.
"nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hasten to tobacconist in the pissing down rain and get you 10 Lambert and fucking Butler" I didn't add
So collar turned up and head down against the rain I made my way to the shop and duly purchased the requested tobacco product, all the time hoping that this selfless act would result in my getting a shag. Or a quick hand shandy. Even a quick grope wouldn't have gone amiss.
As I stepped out of the shop I looked up to watch the rain coming down, and as I did so, my vision was drawn to a window. A window with the curtains open. A window with the curtains open and the light on. And the resident of the room, (The young, blonde resident of the room) lit up like a Las Vegas magic show was seemingly getting ready to go out.
I started walking so as not to be too obvious a pervert, gaze locked on the young lady slipping out of her blouse.
"Go on!" my sex starved brain screamed at her.
"Show me your tits!"
And she somehow heard.
Her hands reached round to her back and fumbled with the clasp of her bra, TheMattInThePants suddenly waking up and remembering what he's been missing.
The bra went slack as the object of my ogleing succeeded in freeing herself from her clothing....
At the exact same moment the the side of my face came into rather abrupt halt against the previously unnoticed lamp post thoughtfully left in my path and leaving me with a rather fetching bruise.
"What the fuck happened to you?" asked my beloved upon my return.
"I was watching some bird getting changed and I walked into a lamppost"
"Well you deserve it you fucking twat"
I didn't have sex that night
(Thu 28th May 2009, 23:15, More)
Many years ago...
...and a young MattInAHat had embarked on the great adventure of living in sin with the artist formerly known as Mrs Hat. Unfortunately living with She of the Spectacular Norkage was not the filthy, sordid fuck fest that I had previously envisaged and pretty soon we had gone from liberally exchanging bodily fluids at every given opportunity to the kind of sexless existence usually found on the problem page of the Mail on Sunday.
As another evening was being endured watching shite on a fuzzy portable television, my beloved's sweet voice drifted through the icy atmosphere.
"I'm out of fags. Nip round the shop and get me some"
"Of course my sweet" I replied.
"nothing would give me greater pleasure than to hasten to tobacconist in the pissing down rain and get you 10 Lambert and fucking Butler" I didn't add
So collar turned up and head down against the rain I made my way to the shop and duly purchased the requested tobacco product, all the time hoping that this selfless act would result in my getting a shag. Or a quick hand shandy. Even a quick grope wouldn't have gone amiss.
As I stepped out of the shop I looked up to watch the rain coming down, and as I did so, my vision was drawn to a window. A window with the curtains open. A window with the curtains open and the light on. And the resident of the room, (The young, blonde resident of the room) lit up like a Las Vegas magic show was seemingly getting ready to go out.
I started walking so as not to be too obvious a pervert, gaze locked on the young lady slipping out of her blouse.
"Go on!" my sex starved brain screamed at her.
"Show me your tits!"
And she somehow heard.
Her hands reached round to her back and fumbled with the clasp of her bra, TheMattInThePants suddenly waking up and remembering what he's been missing.
The bra went slack as the object of my ogleing succeeded in freeing herself from her clothing....
At the exact same moment the the side of my face came into rather abrupt halt against the previously unnoticed lamp post thoughtfully left in my path and leaving me with a rather fetching bruise.
"What the fuck happened to you?" asked my beloved upon my return.
"I was watching some bird getting changed and I walked into a lamppost"
"Well you deserve it you fucking twat"
I didn't have sex that night
(Thu 28th May 2009, 23:15, More)
» Unexpected Nudity
Security cameras are fun...
Back in the days before I had discovered the joys of mortgages , male pattern baldness and other random grown up worries, the young MattInaAHatt spent much of his free time exchanging bodily fluids with my first proper girlfriend, the former Mrs Hat. (The same former Mrs Hat as mentioned here: www.b3ta.com/questions/unexpectednudity/post434012 )
Back then, much of our spare time was spent exploring the various ways of pleasuring each other with a vigour that only a pair of adolescent rabbits could be expected to match. And when bumping uglies wasn't an option, various expressions, code words and blatant innuendos would be employed to remind the other of what the very near future would hold, once a quiet place and time could be found.
And so it came to pass that many an evening would be spent at the local spar where TFMIAH earned her beer tokens by serving assorted freaks their white lightening and tennents super, and I would skulk about for the last hour of her shift, keeping an eye open for shoplifters, all the time waiting for home time when I could get to try out the various rude things that I had read about in the readers stories in Razzle.
Pretty soon after I'd started hanging round said convenience store, my eye was drawn to the single security camera installed, keeping an eye on the alcohol that was out of sight of the checkout, and being displayed on a television only visible when standing behind the counter.
So a new pastime was born. One that basically consisted of me finding various ways of waggling my todger about in view of the camera and trying to distract TFMIAH as she busied herself serving the various dregs of the area. Obviously what started as a quick flash of junior soon progressed to me swaggering along the aisle, keks around my knees, flapping my danglies around in a vague tribal dance to whatever shit was playing on the radio.
One quiet afternoon I decided to up the ante somewhat. I was feeling particularly horny, helped by the fact that the object of my desires was wearing a tight fitting dress as well as the fact her parents were out which meant that that muchos sexytiem was on the cards. The plan was simple. Get her in the mood, take her home and see where things led.
She was busy serving a bit of a rush as I quietly stepped back to start my performance. Out came junior and sneaking a peek towards he counter could see a dirty smirk on my beloved's face as I proceeded to fluff up my special soldier. Pretty soon He was at full stonk and I decided to show my intentions through the medium of mime. Or basically wanking off enigmatically, while giving dirty looks to the camera. So stunning was my performance, so 'of the moment' that my concentration was only broken by a polite 'ahem.'
"Scuse me Hat, I want to get to the wine" said Joan, the next door neighbour and family friend who'd known my girlfriend since she was born.
And with a smirk and a sly wink,
"Pair of you staying in tonight then?"
Bugger
(Fri 29th May 2009, 23:11, More)
Security cameras are fun...
Back in the days before I had discovered the joys of mortgages , male pattern baldness and other random grown up worries, the young MattInaAHatt spent much of his free time exchanging bodily fluids with my first proper girlfriend, the former Mrs Hat. (The same former Mrs Hat as mentioned here: www.b3ta.com/questions/unexpectednudity/post434012 )
Back then, much of our spare time was spent exploring the various ways of pleasuring each other with a vigour that only a pair of adolescent rabbits could be expected to match. And when bumping uglies wasn't an option, various expressions, code words and blatant innuendos would be employed to remind the other of what the very near future would hold, once a quiet place and time could be found.
And so it came to pass that many an evening would be spent at the local spar where TFMIAH earned her beer tokens by serving assorted freaks their white lightening and tennents super, and I would skulk about for the last hour of her shift, keeping an eye open for shoplifters, all the time waiting for home time when I could get to try out the various rude things that I had read about in the readers stories in Razzle.
Pretty soon after I'd started hanging round said convenience store, my eye was drawn to the single security camera installed, keeping an eye on the alcohol that was out of sight of the checkout, and being displayed on a television only visible when standing behind the counter.
So a new pastime was born. One that basically consisted of me finding various ways of waggling my todger about in view of the camera and trying to distract TFMIAH as she busied herself serving the various dregs of the area. Obviously what started as a quick flash of junior soon progressed to me swaggering along the aisle, keks around my knees, flapping my danglies around in a vague tribal dance to whatever shit was playing on the radio.
One quiet afternoon I decided to up the ante somewhat. I was feeling particularly horny, helped by the fact that the object of my desires was wearing a tight fitting dress as well as the fact her parents were out which meant that that muchos sexytiem was on the cards. The plan was simple. Get her in the mood, take her home and see where things led.
She was busy serving a bit of a rush as I quietly stepped back to start my performance. Out came junior and sneaking a peek towards he counter could see a dirty smirk on my beloved's face as I proceeded to fluff up my special soldier. Pretty soon He was at full stonk and I decided to show my intentions through the medium of mime. Or basically wanking off enigmatically, while giving dirty looks to the camera. So stunning was my performance, so 'of the moment' that my concentration was only broken by a polite 'ahem.'
"Scuse me Hat, I want to get to the wine" said Joan, the next door neighbour and family friend who'd known my girlfriend since she was born.
And with a smirk and a sly wink,
"Pair of you staying in tonight then?"
Bugger
(Fri 29th May 2009, 23:11, More)
» Food sex
A different ketchup bottle.....
Yet again a question comes up that I've got chuff all to contribute from my own sordid past (obviously not sordid enough) so here's a 'friend of a friend' tale... (Although names were mentioned at the time and this might very well be true...)
...FoF had the good fortune to be a reasonably talented athlete in a rather popular team sport; so much so that it became his day job. As is often the case with professional sportsmen he picked himself up a trophy wife. FoF was besotted. After sticking his wick in various slappers in his younger days he found someone to settle down with and look pretty in front of his team mates.
Unfortunately for FoF, Trophy Wife was what could be described as A Bit Of A Slut and proceeded to get banged, buggered and generally got her orifices filled (often at the same time) by various men, many of whom were FoFs team mates. By all accounts TW was an extremely popular young lady...
And so it came to pass that FoF returned from an away game that had kept him away from his beloved for a couple of nights. Getting home tired but still on a high from a good win, our hero proceeds to get down to some good lovin' with his lady...
..."But whats this?" thinks FoF
"Vaginas shouldn't contain hard, round, metallic things..."
...as he removed the lid from a ketchup bottle from wifey's mimsy...
Now this is easily explained. "I was lonely" would probably be all the explanation required in many cases. The fact that neither of them liked the red stuff so usually none would be in the house was a slight inconsistency, but was soon forgotten.
Until FoF opens the fridge while visiting his best friend a few days later...
...Yep, there was a lidless ketchup bottle inside - the daft cunt had kept it. Not only that, but when FoF silently held it up, (now former) best mate went white and ran out of the door.
Blood was spilt soon after. Followed by a divorce...
(Edit: I like linebreaks and I don't give a fuck)
(Fri 7th Aug 2009, 23:28, More)
A different ketchup bottle.....
Yet again a question comes up that I've got chuff all to contribute from my own sordid past (obviously not sordid enough) so here's a 'friend of a friend' tale... (Although names were mentioned at the time and this might very well be true...)
...FoF had the good fortune to be a reasonably talented athlete in a rather popular team sport; so much so that it became his day job. As is often the case with professional sportsmen he picked himself up a trophy wife. FoF was besotted. After sticking his wick in various slappers in his younger days he found someone to settle down with and look pretty in front of his team mates.
Unfortunately for FoF, Trophy Wife was what could be described as A Bit Of A Slut and proceeded to get banged, buggered and generally got her orifices filled (often at the same time) by various men, many of whom were FoFs team mates. By all accounts TW was an extremely popular young lady...
And so it came to pass that FoF returned from an away game that had kept him away from his beloved for a couple of nights. Getting home tired but still on a high from a good win, our hero proceeds to get down to some good lovin' with his lady...
..."But whats this?" thinks FoF
"Vaginas shouldn't contain hard, round, metallic things..."
...as he removed the lid from a ketchup bottle from wifey's mimsy...
Now this is easily explained. "I was lonely" would probably be all the explanation required in many cases. The fact that neither of them liked the red stuff so usually none would be in the house was a slight inconsistency, but was soon forgotten.
Until FoF opens the fridge while visiting his best friend a few days later...
...Yep, there was a lidless ketchup bottle inside - the daft cunt had kept it. Not only that, but when FoF silently held it up, (now former) best mate went white and ran out of the door.
Blood was spilt soon after. Followed by a divorce...
(Edit: I like linebreaks and I don't give a fuck)
(Fri 7th Aug 2009, 23:28, More)
» Impulse buys
Hmmmm got a few of these....
Over my 30 years on the planet I'm just beginning to realise that I am actually shit with money. If I've got it, it gets spent...
Tag Heuer watch (wear it every day, so not too bothered really)
Radio controlled tank. Pile of plastic shit thats been gathering dust for the past 3 years (yep I was in my late twenties when I bought a toy aimed at 10 year olds)
Gibson Les Paul Jr... MMMmmmmMMmmmmmm... I fucking love this guitar even though I am the shittest guitarist since Shitty McShit the one fingered axe banger lost his last finger in a freak string changing accident...
My latest stupid buy came a couple of months back...
Now a bit of back story.
I spend a massive amount of time driving (30-40'000 miles a year) and need to carry a boot full of equipment, so what I drive is pretty important to me. I'm probably in my car more than anywhere else except my bed, so when my last steed ticked past the 200'000 mile mark (yes really!), I decided it was about time to blow what little savings I had on a new chariot...
Hours turned to days then to weeks as I trawled the internet for second hand vehicles. I read reviews, checked common faults, and became an expert in the sub £5000 used car market.
'How big is the boot?'
'How much tax am I going to have to pay to the corrupt cunts that run our fair isle?'
'How many miles can I travel before suckling at the teat of texaco'
'Is it going to explode in a fireball leaving me a charred shell of flesh and bone gripping the mangled steering wheel?'
'Can it get Radio 2?'
Are just some of the myriad of questions I asked of the cheap suited 'salesmen' I met on my travels...
...So I bought a fucking Land Rover...
I saw a Freelander, decided I liked it, bought it.
A. FUCKING. LAND. FUCKING. ROVER!!!
Shit MPG
Shit handling
Shit reliability
Expensive to run
(Big boot though)
(Pop, first post, Woo yay! Apologies for my penis, Honda Accord etc. etc. etc.)
(Thu 21st May 2009, 13:25, More)
Hmmmm got a few of these....
Over my 30 years on the planet I'm just beginning to realise that I am actually shit with money. If I've got it, it gets spent...
Tag Heuer watch (wear it every day, so not too bothered really)
Radio controlled tank. Pile of plastic shit thats been gathering dust for the past 3 years (yep I was in my late twenties when I bought a toy aimed at 10 year olds)
Gibson Les Paul Jr... MMMmmmmMMmmmmmm... I fucking love this guitar even though I am the shittest guitarist since Shitty McShit the one fingered axe banger lost his last finger in a freak string changing accident...
My latest stupid buy came a couple of months back...
Now a bit of back story.
I spend a massive amount of time driving (30-40'000 miles a year) and need to carry a boot full of equipment, so what I drive is pretty important to me. I'm probably in my car more than anywhere else except my bed, so when my last steed ticked past the 200'000 mile mark (yes really!), I decided it was about time to blow what little savings I had on a new chariot...
Hours turned to days then to weeks as I trawled the internet for second hand vehicles. I read reviews, checked common faults, and became an expert in the sub £5000 used car market.
'How big is the boot?'
'How much tax am I going to have to pay to the corrupt cunts that run our fair isle?'
'How many miles can I travel before suckling at the teat of texaco'
'Is it going to explode in a fireball leaving me a charred shell of flesh and bone gripping the mangled steering wheel?'
'Can it get Radio 2?'
Are just some of the myriad of questions I asked of the cheap suited 'salesmen' I met on my travels...
...So I bought a fucking Land Rover...
I saw a Freelander, decided I liked it, bought it.
A. FUCKING. LAND. FUCKING. ROVER!!!
Shit MPG
Shit handling
Shit reliability
Expensive to run
(Big boot though)
(Pop, first post, Woo yay! Apologies for my penis, Honda Accord etc. etc. etc.)
(Thu 21st May 2009, 13:25, More)