Why are all the weirdos called Nick?
Yonks ago when I was the tender age of 14, I was a member of a karate club. Now there were several rather striking older members of this club that myself and my friend Freya rather admired.

One member we did not admire was Nick.

He was our age, went to the local boys school, and while I loathe to dismiss people due to social categories, the guy was an utter, utter loser. Aside from being catastrophically ugly (imagine a chubby, pale face, horrible slicked down hair and a blubbery nose and mouth with pinprick eyes), he walked with a limp and had the physcial prowess of a crippled hippo.

Suffice to say, he didn't even register in our 13 year old minds - we were too busy staring at the pretty older boys with their six packs and tall-ness and the like.

Unfortunately, Nick took quite a liking to me.

Now, having been bullied myself when I was a child, I would never be outrightly cruel to someones face or laugh at them for trying to be nice, but Nick pushed the boundaries of creepy. It started off with him following me round the room during lessons, then doing his best each week to get me as a sparring partner. I put up with this because I felt sorry for him, but I in no way encouraged his advances.

Then, when my Dad came to get me at the end of each session, he would take to waiting for me outside the changing rooms and walking with us to the car park. I was starting to get quite irritated by this attention and each week silently hoped my Dad would suddenly come over all protective and tell young Nick to fuck off. Sadly not.

Then came the time for a disco between the boys and girls schools, of which or course he attended in a desperate hope of seeing me. He turned up wearing an uber cool Man United shirt - which someone from his school immediately stuck chewing gum on the back of. I felt sorry for him and told him it was there, even though my friends begged me not to through their tears of laughter. I even made the GRAVE mistake of dancing with him because it was plainly obvious that people just made fun of him all the time and I really thought it was tragic.

Worst mistake ever.

He began pestering Freya about me, asking her what I liked and talking about me whenever they had to spar together (poor girl). Eventually, when indulging in his favourite passtime of walking to the car park with me, he piped up "So...have you seen Titanic yet?" to which I replied "Um...no, but it looks good".

Luckily we had reached the car and I escaped, but the next week he appeared again and said "So when shall we go and see Titanic?" I almost screamed in fear.

"Um..I wasn't aware I was seeing a film with you..."

"Yeah, remember you said last week?"

"No, you asked me if I'd seen it and I said no. That wasn't an invitation and my reply wasn't a yes!"

He limped off.

By this point my younger brother had joined the karate club, and Nick decided the best plan of action was to befriend him to get to me. He would invite him round his house with the lure of seeing all his cool computer games (substitues for friends, I imagine). Then things got really, really scary one week when my brother whispered to me during a lesson "Nick says if you don't freespar with him he's going to call you a sexy bitch"

My brother was fucking 10. He had no idea what that even meant and there were so many things wrong with this! I vomited in my mouth and inched away, warning my brother he was under no uncertain circumstances to ever speak to Nick again.

More was to come. One of Nick's chosen "chat-up" lines was the relevation that he had only one kidney. This was supposed to be interesting or attractive in some way? Anyway, it was a fact he frequently reminded me of. On one occasion the whole club travelled to Birmingham to take part in a competition (he spent a vast majority of the time trying to take pictures of me), and Freya thought it would be hilarious to tell Nick that I wanted him to come to our hotel room after dinner, so at bang on nine o clock there's an eager knock at the door. I get up to answer it and it's Nick, grinning broadly at this invite into my world. I freak out and slam the door in his face with Freya pissing herself from her bed.

The worst was yet to come.

Eventually he seemed to have calmed in his rabid pursuit of me, which I was entirely grateful for. We even found out that he was going out with a girl from the year below (the female equivalent of him, physically and socially) - thank god for me right? Wrong.

One day this girl approaches one of my friends on the way to school (she vaguely knows her from a drama thing they did). They get into an awkward conversation, with my friend wondering what she did to deserve this attention. Finally, the girl starts talking about me. "Odd" thinks my friend "why is this strange girl talking about Posage?"

It turns out Nick had told his new hunch-backed girlfriend that I had been pestering him for years to go out with me, and when he finally relented he had to dump me because I was, to directly quote, "too frigid".

My friend bursts into school, pissing herself with laughter and relates the story, which I realise he must have told the whole of his school, including the pretty boys I so admired. I was branded. And fucking furious that after suffering so much creepiness at the mutated hands of this bloated sea creature, I came out of it looking like the stalker.

I relayed a message through the hunchback girlfriend.

"If Nick ever even thinks of mentioning my name in conversation again I will find him and rip his remaining kidney out with my bare hands, and force him mum to eat it"

I never saw or heard from him again.

Sorry for the length but he probably didn't have one.
(posage As I turned the corner I felt muscular and compact, Thu 7 Feb 2008, 13:37, Reply)

Forgot about this one.
I once stalked Jo Whiley of Radio 1 fame when I was 14. I must have sent her about 20 emails before giving up. To this day I don't know why, she's a troll.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Thu 7 Feb 2008, 13:15, 1 reply)

The Mayor's Granddaughter aka Crazy Liz
Being a vastly underachieving art student I ended up studying at the home for educational bottom feeders, Barnsley College. Whilst I learnt close to fuck all there (apart from 'don't screw girls who admire Kenny G') it did mean that I got to spend two years in a town with the highest concentration of freaks per square foot in the UK. It was incredible. I saw blue cats with human faces, dogs with six inch gelatinous horns sticking out of their heads and more ranting, inbred religious fanatics than you could hope to laugh at (and that was just in my street) so it was no surprise that I was also stalked there by a giant local.

My house mate (a Gelf looking crusty with triple vision in one eye) brought the stalker (known locally, if not imaginatively, as Crazy Liz) home from the student bar one night but had forgotten what he'd wanted a massive, rubber clad Goth for so dumped her in the living room with me and staggered off to bed. Despite looking like 6ft+ of bleached blonde, fetishist horror she seemed pleasant enough to the point where I ended up being quite nice to her despite her ruining the climax of 'Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla' for me.

This was probably my undoing as she took this as an excuse to pounce on me and belch her life story into my face. Aside from the details of her fantastical sexual preferences and other details too tedious to mention I learnt that she was a local Mayor's Granddaughter, that she was a big fan of shit eating, was terrified of brushing her teeth (a dangerous thing in a scat fan), had a constantly re-healing hymen and was going to kill me if I didn't let her deep throat me. Foul as she was (and being something of a hound at the time) I was almost tempted but thought better of it (I told myself it would be like shagging a cowpat) and after a couple of hours of recoiling from her advances she finally got the message and left the room.

I thought she'd gone off to try and conquer my house mate instead but when I didn't hear her climb the stairs (and I would have heard that bulk ascending them) I went to find her and, if my luck was in, turf her out of the house. I quickly discovered her in the kitchen digging a bloody groove into her arm with a craft knife from my art box. I asked her to stop and she replied that she'd only do so if I slept with her, which I refused so she started crying and resumed the arm hacking.

To stop her (and still keeping the idea of that free blowjob in my head) I said I would, at which point she put the knife down and began serenading me with dirty traditional folk songs. I again saw sense (as well as a vision of a flirty cowpat), turned her down and the process of tears and slashing began again and continued for some time. The following few hours were a surreal blur of imposing flesh, flashing blades, the stench of stale shit and harrowing folk tunes and the exact details are sketchy but the upshot was that she ended up following me to college the next morning with bandaged arm. After several hours of suffering her eerie presence I finally managed to shake her off in the library (no pun intended) and hoped that was the end of it.

Of course it wasn't. She followed me around for months afterwards trying to coax me into her (in front of her meek and terrified looking boyfriend) and intimidating my girlfriends before finally transferring her attentions onto my friend Sticky Geoff. When she amazingly failed to pull him with the awesome line 'I have a shallow vagina so like small penises' she went back to following me around until I graduated and got out of that God forsaken town.



A year later she managed to track down my phone number in Salford and invited herself to visit. I gave her a bogus address in Moss Side and haven't heard from her since, though part of me misses her. Nothing boosts the esteem like being the object of someone's fevered obsession, even if they do look like the Michelin man at a Marilyn Manson gig.

I won't apologise for length, Sticky Geoff never did.
(mudflaps, Thu 7 Feb 2008, 12:48, 3 replies)

This guy I worked with once...
...well, I say once... he was only just made redundant about a month ago (unfortunately). The guy in question, I will call him L, for that is his first initial. L was a great laugh, always brought a smile to your face... and the biggest pervert known to man. Seriously, if you could think of something really perverted and offputting... he'd go further!

Anyway, at the time of this story, we knew he was hugely perverted, and somewhat of a sexual deviant... but always thought it was bravado, playing up to it and everything.

Monday morning rolls round, and a new week begins as per normal. Everyone is in the office, except for L who'd rang in sick that morning. Thinking it was a bit weird, he hadn't been ill on the Friday, life went on.

Tuesday afternoon comes, and the boss asks everyone for 5 minutes to have a talk about something. We all wondered what it could be... had we being doing some wrong? What could it be?

She starts off with saying "I need to inform you lot about L and what has been happening with him recently." We all sat in wonder, thinking what's happened... as something happened to him, his family, is he ill. What the hell is going on?

"L hasn't been in work for the past few days, he is worried about his family as him, his wife, and his sons are being stalker of a frequent basis." said the boss.

A moment of silence passed over the office...

...then the biggest cry of laughter ever!

No one could contain themselves... not even the boss. We couldn't actually believe what we had just heard. Sheer genius if this was a joke.

But on the serious side, we were told "If you see a middle-aged grey haired man hanging around in a silver Mercedes, report it to the police straight away." So, we kept a serious look out for this guy all week, but never once seen him.

Following week, L returns back to work, and instantly, he's interigated about the whole "stalking" situation. He started by saying "well, the guy stalking me was the chairman of a club that me and missus are members of..." With this, we thought the guy stalking him was just a nutter.

Later that day, he emails the office with a link to the clubs website. The email just simply said Club TANDO. We all clicked the link thinking nothing of it... until we realised that TANDO stood for the Tynedale and Newcastle District Outdoor club! And on the page was pictures of naked people playing a game of five-a-side.

Again... the office erupted in to a loud wave of laughter...

...and once the tears cleared, it all became apparent that L and his missus were members of a nudists club, with the chairman nudist stalking them.

But, this isn't the whole of it... about 5 minutes later... L confessed the true reason why this nutter was stalking them. Turns out, L and his missus, were also part of a swingers group, and this guy had obviously been with L's missus at some point... and wanted more.

Again... another loud eruption of laughter...

...we could believe what we were hearing. This was just completely crazy. But, in the end, it all turned out to be true.

After about a month, the nutter stopped stalking L's family... but the memories of finding out just how perverted, and nuts, L was is just priceless.



Never apologies for length, bigger is better.
(ShaunyBoi has been surviving fires since, Thu 7 Feb 2008, 12:37, 2 replies)