Beware of Belgians bearing gifts
Picture the scene: me, an innocent young PhD student and Fjames*, a less young, brilliantly-gifted and very fucking psycho lecturer from the flatlands of Europe.

Part the first: with absolutely no provocation on my part, Fjames announces he will shower me with gifts from Belgium. I arrive into work to find two bottles of Duvel and 2 Duvel glasses in a presentation box on my desk. I am liking this a little but want to make sure there's nothing going on in his head, so I say "thanks, but nothing is going on or will go on". That makes me feel like a arrogant twat but I just wanted to make sure things were appropriately friendly.

Days pass.

Part the second: I arrive into work to find Belgian chocolate propping up my monitor. Nice. Again I thank him profusely and make it clear I'm really not interested.

Days pass. I continue to behave as if nothing is happening between us as, in fact, nothing is happening between us.

Part the third: I arrive into work to find a lacy bra and equally lacy thong (new, designer, bnwt as they say on ebay) draped across my keyboard. Draped across my keyboard in my huge shared lab space. I stare at it, half-amused and half-horrified, and contemplate what to do.

I approach my Fjames' office door, knock hesitantly and in my best diplomatic voice manage to say "thanks but, er, no thanks", at which point he starts screeching at me that I'm a psycho prick tease from hell, that I'm an evil bitch who tramples over people's feelings and that my doctor should probably up my medication because I'm mad.

I immediately make sure absolutely everyone at work knows what just happened. He lasted another few months before disappearing up his own arse in a puff of mathematical genius.


*Name changed to protect the guilty
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 24 Jan 2008, 15:21, Reply)