» House Guests

The transmogrification of Henra
Back in uni I lived in the smokers house and a fellow student called Henry would often pop round for a smoke. We called him Henra as after one spliff he would steal your soul by talking to you about things you really weren't interested in (like football). Yes we all talk crap when we smoke but Henra was not a conversationalist, you would not be able to get a word in... for hours. He would just blabber on and on at you.

One evening we were sat around smoking, when Henra popped in. He had been in the pub watching soccer (as I like to call it to piss him off). He'd had a skin full of Stella and blubbered on as he was passed a joint. We were watching a compilation of skating fails that were particularly nasty. Henra had been quiet for about 5mins (a record), he mumbled something and I looked over. He was distinctly green looking, and said "turn it over... please". We saw his pain and laughed, "it's freaking me out, turn it off please". We refused. Suddenly, quick as a flash he ran out of the room.

It was a little while later that our housemate Nellogs said "oh man, can you smell that?". As he said it the most god awful poo smell drifted into the room. I got up to investigate, (our living-room was on the first floor) at the top of the stairs the smell was horrific, and this is where the poo trail started. Down the stairs it led to the to toilet, which was covered in poo - on the walls, the floor, everywhere and my god the smell. The front-door was left a jar and there was no sign of Henra.

Back upstairs I explained my findings "basically Henra has come round, smoked a joint, freaked out, shat himself and left". Hilarious.
Then the most unbelievable thing happened. Just as we were arguing over who was going to clear up the mess the door bell went. It was Henra. He came in smiling. Sitting down in the front-room we interrogated him. He denied having just been around, shitting himself and leaving. He denied the whole thing. It was at that point that Flash pointed out he was wearing different trousers. From that day on we named him Shitra. And to this day he denies and believes his own bullshit that it didn't happen.
(Sat 8th Jan 2011, 14:32, More)

» I'm glad nobody saw me

The bestest phonesex ever
Back in uni I was a bit of a male slut, one afternoon I was studying away to the usual porno and I got a text message. "Hey it's Katie, how are you? You free for some phone fun?", despite not remembering meeting or giving my number to anyone called Katie I responded with something pretty sordid. The texts went back and forth getting more and more explicit, until I sent something like "who's your Daddy?", the response "my Dad's dead". I text back apologising, she was fine with it. The sexy texts continued, until the inevitable "Do you fancy some phonesex?", "Sure I'll call you in Flash...". The phone rang, I answered cock in hand to "Huuuuuuuuu" from my flatmate Flash who was upstairs with his new phone.
This was in the early 2000s and he has told this story to every girl I've dated since.
I did get him back by shouting his mum's name into a vent that led to his room while he was shagging some rough girl from college.
Good times.
(Fri 28th Jan 2011, 11:19, More)

» B3ta Villain of the Year 2010

Every BMW driver...
(Except Mike Gibbons (Kunt & The Gang's manager, then again his BMW is old and shit and he's a bloody nice bloke)).
... for driving like tossers.
For almost killing me when I'm riding my bicycle.
For almost killing my girlfriend when she's riding her bicycle.
For almost killing me when I'm riding my moped.
For almost killing me, my girlfriend, my family and everyone when we are sharing the road with you in any form.
For making driving an unpleasant experience in every part of this country.
For making me write a list.
Cunts.
All of them (except Mike Gibbons)
(Tue 28th Dec 2010, 19:10, More)

» Drugs

Granny's House
By 1999 I had stayed at so many friend's houses in London that after two years of blagging it from sofa to sofa the only place left to stay was Granny's house. I was staying for a week and on day three I got up with the inevitable hangover and went looking for paracetamol in the kitchen. Sure enough there was a blister pack of pills and I popped three of the fuckers to sort my head out.

I was working as a Runner on a pouncy Indie film and felt profoundly weird, by lunch time I was shaking pretty badly and not feeling great. After the shoot in Euston I had to drive the van with the camera kit back, pulling out of the car park I hit a parked car pretty badly, denting in the side door. Then scrapped the van on the way out and finally 10 miles north of London I destroyed the gear box by driving so badly. The very annoyed art director sent me home and told me not to bother coming back. When I got back to Granny's she was there in the kitchen looking concerned, it was then she told me that I had taken her HRTs.
(Sun 19th Sep 2010, 23:42, More)