» Bastard Colleagues

University of Wales, Aberystwyth
This is a little known fact among the heaps of myths about Wales. Not a country of sheep-shaggers are we, not content with our rugby-playing depression nor our 264:1 consonant to vowel ration. We have a far deeper secret lying nestled amongst the slate mines of Western Ceredigion, where men are men, women are women, and no-one's quite sure about the children.

In Aberystwyth, a peaceful town lapped by the gentle waves of the Irish sea, a coil of smoke spread out from beneath a door. Behind the door , a maniacal glee could be heard as of one who has reached a goal after long and hard research including more than a few third-degree lovehandle burns. The smoke spread slowly through the town, mingling with the morning mist. At every door or passerby, a smaller tendril split off and entered every house or the lungs of every young person it encountered.

Time passed. Not years, or months, or weeks but a single day. Friday. As is the wont of certain enlightened human beings of which Aberystwyth houses many, many students headed to that high-point of their social interaction locales, the pub. Hours passed with the habitual procedure of downing pints, wagging or snogging tongues and friendly chatter. Yet, over time, more and more bartenders began noticing something strange.

As if in a fairytale, the students, that species most reputed for inebriation as a hobby, were still standing. The townies, that local bunch of chavtastic neanderthals, were long departed to their beds beneath the table of in their Micras. Yet, the students plied on into the night, not a single drop of alcohol going to their heads. Beer, spirits, absinth, moonshine, nothing could be done. Eventually, their money ran dry and the students returned to their dorms, not a one of them waking hungover.

The mist had done its work. From now on, the University of Wales, Aberystwyth, would forever be known as the.......Beerstud College.

First post in 3 years, totally worth it.
(Wed 30th Jan 2008, 8:09, More)

» Scary Neighbours

Big, bald and BALLISTIC
Opposite my old dad's house in Southwest Wales lives a complete smegging nutter by the name of Derek. Former army, gone completely ploppo. Here a few things he's done.

- Cut off the water supply to the 85 year old granny next door.
- Kidnapped my dog twice and left him 30 miles down the road.
- Cut the heads of over 200 daffodils belonging to a local farmer (and then carefully carried the heads away)
-Set fire to a chicken coop, belonging to same farmer, killing over 50 chickens
-Threatened me with a gun, when I was 14, saying he'd kill my dog
-Mowed his lawn at 6am every bleeping Sunday
-Put up a sign across from my dad's house saying: 'ROAMING DOGS WILL BE TAKEN TO THE POLICE STATION' A few weeks, later the word AGAIN was added.
-Taken a picture of himself, the same day of every year with the same camera in the same clothes, put them alongside each other in his house and is convinced he's looking younger each year (he really isn't)

And because the council can't pin anything on him, the saga is ongoing.
(Fri 26th Aug 2005, 1:24, More)

» Join us... come join the cult

Scottish, Outer Hebrides and Montana Sheep Cult.
I wore a woolly hat to the Isle of Skye once. I was rather taken aback when every sheep i passed started worshipping me, baaing rythymically. turns out the hat I was wearing from the wool of Supreme Ovine Zephaniah who runs the Scottish, Outer Hebrides and Montana Sheep Cult. I took this situation to the Met once, I was laughed out by the Deputy Commissioner. However, I spotted a ring on his finger with a fluff of wool indicating his membership of SOHMP. We are going to be overrun soon. Already view how the world is gripped by bird flu as a result of disrespecting poultry for far too long. The Chickens are fighting back. If they join with the sheep, we're all screwed.

Run for your lives!!!!!
We can't run...
Fine, Saunter for your lives!!!!!
We don't know how to saunter...
Hmm, AMBLE for your lives!!!!!
I can't be bothered to amble.
(Fri 27th Jan 2006, 11:55, More)

» Stupid Tourists

Not strictly a tourist but his first time in London
On a trip to London with a friend of mine from Birmingham, we decide to tour the National Art Gallery. Upon walking in, we spy the big sign giving the dates of paintings from different centuries.
Gallery 1 1500-1600
Gallery 2 1600-1700

My friend: 'That's handy, they've numbered the paintings.'
I believe the laughter stopped approximately 4 hours later.
(Thu 14th Jul 2005, 7:44, More)

» My Biggest Disappointment

The Dark Truth behind B3ta
B3ta was once a place of wonder for me. Introduced to me by an old dalliance, I remember my eyes opening in sheer wonder that here, finally, was a place where those who dreamt about Sephardic Jews doing the conga, of kittens taking over the world and of who would win in a fight between a T-rex and a giant Brian Blessed could congregate freely and without fear of reproach.

But...something evil lurked....

A place where the most crucial intellectual discourse would compete with the most inane japery, where names of legend roamed (whatever happened to stusut?), and especially where no-one ever would dare mention the primary sin of all Interweb users......

But...something evil lurked....an evil festered at the heart of B3ta.

For one of B3ta's pillars had become corrupted. The QOTW, formerly a place where one could read happy tales free of the threat of being reminded.....of one horrible truth. But then, in one fateful QOTW, I was reminded twice.....


about the Game.

*I am truly truly sorry.*
(Fri 27th Jun 2008, 10:49, More)