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This is a question Celebrities part II

Five years ago, we asked if you've ever been rude to a celebrity, or have been on the receiving end of a Z-List TV chef's wrath. By popular demand, it's back - if you have beans, spill them.

(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:33)
Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, ... 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Three for the price of one
Many years ago before sloth and beer had taken their toll, I used to frequent a circuit training class. The trainer also had a lot of rich, personal clients apart from us sweaty plebian gym rats.

And so it came to pass, and I have no idea how, that at a social event/meal arranged by said trainer I found myself on a table along with Jools Holland, George Harrison, and a motor racing magnate who may have shared the same name as a recently divorced model, the one with the surgically enhanced top bollocks.

Mr Holland was much as you might imagine, a very pleasant chap, no side to him at all.
Mr Harrison also, except it was difficult to make small talk as I kept wanting to ask him "So, what was it like being a Beatle then?" Only iron self control prevented me from doing so.

The motor racing magnate was, sad to say, a boring opinionated twat who like the sound of his own voice. Which was strange as he comes across very differently when plonked in front of a TV camera or a microphone.

Still, an interesting evening, and the nearest I've been to any celebrities, unless you count me getting Johnny Morris' autograph when I was about nine years old.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:35, 1 reply)
Mispronounced names
Many years ago I was with some mates and we were bored, so since one of our Dads was the head greenkeeper at a golfee course that were holding a pro-am compo, we decided to go along and waste time there, hoping to spot a few childhood idols.

They were all there, Tarby, Brucie, Carson, so we decided on a dare game.

We would act the enthusiastic fan and ask for autographs, but with one rule - when asking for the autograph, you had to slightly mispronounce or mispell the name of the celeb.

My turn, and it is the mighty Reg Varney.

"Hello Mr Varnish, can I have your autograph?"

"It's Varney, what shall I write"

"'Best Wishes, Reg Varnish' would be great Mr Varnish"

"It's Varney. Now can I get on with my game."

We got brushed off by Frank Carton and Jimmy Tarbrush. Bastards.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:34, Reply)
I sabotaged The Sweet
Summer 1988 & I'd just completed my first year at the then Polytechnic of North London. Brian Connolly's New Sweet were playing a gig there as part of his nostalgia cash-in & I'd dragged a mate along to see it. They were shite. The hall is now The Rocket & a reasonably good venue but then it was just the Poly's crap theatre. The mixing desk was on a couple of tables at the back of the hall next to where we were standing. After a few pints we were feeling bored & ripped off when we noticed a single extension lead coming from the back of the hall to the mixing desk table. A strip was plugged into it with various plugs going off to the sound equipment. So I sidled up behind the fat git doing the 'sound' & very quickly unplugged the extension. The effect was dramatic - the sound completely died except for the banging of the drums at the back of the stage. It took them 15 minutes to suss what had happened while fat, florrid Brian looked on enraged from the stage. (Shame he didn't hissy & storm off.)

Purile, yes, but we were very pleased with ourselves. Served them right, they were crap.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:33, 1 reply)
Mass rudeness
Back in the mid-90s I worked for a (very) large company that published newspapers and magazines. Each year they would lay on a huge Christmas bash, just our division alone was over 2,500 people and took place at Alexandra Palace.

Anyway, rumours for weeks had been that the celebrity host for the evening was to be Chris Evans. Now believe it or not there was a time when Mr Evans was widely held to be quite a decent and funny chap, and so generally we were all looking forward to it.

Come the evening and our merry bunch sought out a table near the front, grabbing bottles of wine off other tables as we went, and set to drinking in earnest. By the time the lights went down and we were fairly well-oiled and ready to greet the host with the warmth he deserved. The announcer made his intro, concluding with a rousing...

"...and now welcome our host for the evening, Mister Chriiiiss...Tarrant!"

The wave of indifference that greeted him as he took the stage was palpable. A smattering of applause was followed by utter, deathly silence. He assayed a few tired one-liners and lame company in-jokes, then stumbled to a halt. He quickly moved on to the awards part of the evening, and exited stage left as swiftly as possible.

Later on he returned to the stage to offer us his 'performance'. This consisted of reading from a piece of paper a series of 'amusing anecdotes' lifted directly from his radio show of the time. No-one laughed. In fact, after a few minutes, the booing began -- I can neither confirm nor deny that it originated at our table, but pretty soon the whole room was at it.

I'm afraid I can't tell you his final words before storming off stage -- he was completely drowned out by the jeers and boos -- but from the look on his face as he spoke them I suspect they weren't very polite...
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:32, Reply)
stephen fry's fag
many moons ago i managed to blag tickets to the west end premier of hitch hikers guide to the galaxy. after the show i was ambling out and managed to brush past said mister fry and managed to put his ciggie out with my left hand. i said sorry and he said it was quite alright, he shouldnt really be smoking in the cinema anyway. i went home. stung like a fucker for a couple of days tho. and my dad sat next cliff richard on a plane to hong kong in 1982.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:29, Reply)
Oliver Reed
kissed my hand and told me I was a beautiful lady. That's how I knew he was blind drunk. Well, that and there was a 'y' in the day.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:28, Reply)
Wizard vs Jedi
Living in London and having a job where I’m out and about a fair bit, I’ve run into quite a few celebrities. The encounter that stands out the most for me was when I was in a black cab heading towards Hammersmith, crawling down Kensington Road just near Hyde Park.

Bored, feeling my arse grow increasingly numb on the hard seat, I glanced to my right and saw – well, fuck me! That looks like – yes! It is! It is! I very nearly creamed my pants.

I wound down the window and as we trundled past at all of five miles an hour in the terrible traffic, I screamed: “Use your Jedi mind trick! Go on! Go on! Use the trick! Go oooonnnnn!!!”

Ewan McGregor looked up, appearing incredibly pissed off, as the large Nigerian traffic warden lady wrote him out a ticket for illegal parking.

And because we were going so slowly, Ewan’s gaze bore into the back of my skull like a pair of laserbeams until we’d driven past. Didn’t help Ewan's mood that I was chuckling merrily to myself as we went.

The taxi driver said: “Was ‘e famous? ‘E looked familar 'e did...” I explained who the bloke was. The taxi driver digested this information, mulled it over for a bit, then said, matter-of-factly: “I 'ad that gay wizard from the Lord of the Rings in 'ere the other day.”

And by the time we arrived at our destination in Hammersmith, I'd had the most incredible conversation with a taxi driver ever: Who'd win in a fight to the death - Gandalf the Gray or Obi Wan Kenobi...

We decided it would probably be a draw.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:19, 3 replies)
Sadly, this isn't me...
... but someone I know worked in a video rental place in Brighton while a student. One of the clients was Nick Cave, and he'd had a note on his account blocking any further loans until he paid off the outstanding balance on his account.

And what kind of things had this dark and hard-living deity been borrowing?

Noddy videos.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:18, 5 replies)
Universally Challenged
I was on one of the first-round-losing teams of this year's University Challenge (feel the prouds). Obviously, this meant that I met the Pax Man. Now, on Uni Challenge, Newsnight and sundry other programmes, Jezza does come across somewhat as the bastard offspring of a terrier and an unexploded bomb. A man railing valiantly and aggressively against ignorance and deception, whether from slimy politicians or (perhaps equally) slimy students.

In real life though he's a petulant teenager. When having a strop with the makeup lady, who had the temerity to try and make him look presentable, his indignant huffing had a definite ring of "You can't do this, you're not my real makeup lady! This is soooo unfaaaaair..."

He did sign our lobster though.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:17, 2 replies)
I mildly annoyed Jenson Button once
We were at the Petrolheads show and he was the special guest, came out at set times through the day to make a brief appearance and field a few questions.
In the sea of crazy-eyed male fanatics the guy controlling the camera/microphone made the mistake of thinking it a good point of interest to zoom in on the solitary female with her hand up - me!
I was pretty surprised as I didn't actually have a question (though not as surprised as my boyfriend stood next to me as he knows for a fact that I have zero interest in F1, didn't even know who Jenson was that morning until he told me) but plowed on with my mission regardless

"um...when would you say was your best time, and when was your worst..."

(I did mention that I made this up on the spot didn't I? I'm sure no-one noticed)

"...and please can I have your autograph?"

To his credit, he did laugh, and make a token effort to answer my token question, but he wouldn't look at me again after that and when he came around signing stuff he ignored my card. The Cad.

Edit: I should probably mention that my boyfriend loves F1 so I thought it would be nice to get the autograph for him, I don't just randomly try and get autographs of famous people!
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:09, Reply)
Beadle who is he?
Back in the '80s I was a despatch rider and we did a lot of work for various TV companies and often delivered to celebs.

We had to get a signature and printed name or not get paid.

Delivering to a J Beadle he scribbled a signature on my clipboard and handed it back, I looked and handed the clipboard back with a polite 'could you print your name please'

I was then asked not so politely 'Do you know who I am?'

No,I said,should I?

I am on TV! He replied

'That'll be it then I only listen to the radio, so if you could just print that would be great'

He looked quite upset!

Length it looked pretty short holding the clipboard.

First post so savage me if you will
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:09, 2 replies)
I'm particularly proud of this
One glorious Spring morning a few months ago found me making the most of the weather and cycling in to the office, which lies just off Trafalgar Square.

On this particular day, my normal route which takes me past St James Park was blocked, so I was detoured through Whitehall and joined the queue of traffic as it poured past the Treasury buildings.

I was aware that a large, grey Jaguar saloon was attempting to overtake me. I had nowhere to go so I carried on pedalling, however just as the Jag pulled in front of me the driver decided to swerve without warning and pull up at gates at Downing Street, giving me no option but slam on my brakes to avoid the ensuing collision.

I did exactly what anyone would do under the circumstances. I turned toward the car and shouted "You TWAT!".

The dour looking suited gentleman in the back of the car looked slightly less than amused.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:08, 3 replies)
I'm never rude to anyone. Especially not the Hoff.
I went to a booksigning of his a couple of years ago in Borders on Oxford St.

Queued up with my copy of his autobiography 'Making Waves' and waited an hour and a half in line 'til I almost ready to meet the man himself.

We had to write our names on a scrap of paper so that the Hoff wouldn't actually have to converse with any of us plebs.

People would hand him the thing they want signed, along with their scrap of paper. He'd sign it. They'd leave. Sometimes they'd take a photograph.

What I noticed though - and this really riled me for some reason - is that not a single person seemed to say thank you to this great legend of our time.

So when it came to my turn, I did what I thought was right and said, quite loudly, "Thank you David".

He looked up.

Right into my eyes.

And said with a genuine smile, "You're welcome... er..." he checked the scrap of paper, "Johnny".

Yes. I was welcomed by the Hoff.

And I have a photograph to prove it:

Now, who wants to touch me?

Length? About three hundred people.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:07, 1 reply)
Celebrity puns
Sod you all, I'm not going to do any puns on the title of this QOTW. Last week I sweated my hairy bollocks off to come up with "née Boors", "Neigh Bourse", "nae boars", "ney bores", "Nay Boors", "Nair burrs", "neigh beurres", "Nye bores", "Nayib oars" and "knee brrrrrs", and I was sure a couple would make it onto the Best of page. But I've just bloody checked and no pun in ten did!
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:02, 8 replies)
Fubby Chunster
Location: Angel Hotel Abergavenny 1988.
Celebrity: Russel Grant.
Action: Fat sweaty bloke Grant sat in a corner with a dollybird [he'd have preferred Dolly Mixture] on his lap. He was fingering her quite subtly. I spent the rest of the night asking everyone whether that fat fucker was bent or not; no he's with a bird, but he's not straight, he's trying his smarmy smile on her now, now he's off for a piss with a tiny bulge in his cream corduroys.
Very confusing, very disturbing.
Ian Botham was in the same week, but he is a massive bloke, so I kept schtum about his big gut, and thinning hair.

(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:57, Reply)
My great aunt
lives, in her own words, "Right near to that Stephen Fry guy."

It was the first I'd heard of it! Same village in Norfolk, can see his place from her window etc. Does she understand how awesome this is? No.

"'e's never there. Should sell his bloody 'ouse if 'e's going to treat it like some 'oliday 'ome."

EDIT: I should probably say that this is absolutely true.

I don't know if she's ever told him so, but I get a wonderful mental image of her cursing under her breath at him as she peers through her window at his place.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:54, 1 reply)
Not Me But My Dad...
Who is a typically blunt Lancastrian man.

At a party held by a landowner [and thus rich] friend of his in the Midlands, who should my Dad find himself stood next to, but Miranda Richardson...

By way of introduction my Dad offers "I've seen you on television, haven't I? You're the actress Miranda Richardson?..."

"No" she responds tersely, "I'm an Ac-TOR",

Following on my Dad replies "Yes, you were in "Blackadder" weren't you?

Ms Richardson nods approvingly.

And, finally with a straight face, intent on bringing her down a notch or two, he goes in for the coup-de-grace:

"You played 'Nursey', didn't you?"
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:52, 2 replies)
I played a charity golf game once.
With Ronnie Corbett, Bruce Forsyth and Jimmy Tarbuck.

They all finished a few shots over their handicap. It was a celebriti'es par two.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:50, 2 replies)
Yeah, just now
I shouted "Bono you're a cunt" at the top of my voice.

Don't suppose he heard me though.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:50, 8 replies)
The receiving end of a Z-List TV chef's wrath
In a previous life, one of the duties of my job involved wrangling studio guests for a large radio station.

I was to meet-and-greet, usher them into the studio, let them do their talky bit and help them find their way home again. More often than not, these guests were mere members of the public, and the few celebrities we got - being a regional operation - were those who were unwilling to go up to London.

"Uhh...", I said, referring to a scrap of paper, "Mr Worrall-Thompson, would you like to step this way?"

The small, ginger, bearded man with a not-unpleasant smell redolant of a compost heap, followed me through the maze of corridors toward the studio.

In the awkward silence, I felt it my duty to make conversation with this stranger.

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm a CHEF"

I took in these three words, spoken - I thought - with undue tetchiness.

"That's ...um... interesting. Are you any good?"

There was a long, distant rumbling coming from inside the small man's torso, like a volcano about to destroy an island in the Pacific. Which, at that time, was exactly where I wanted to be.

All the words ran into each other, but I'm pretty sure one of them was "Don'tyouknowwhoIam?"
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:49, 3 replies)
Pearoast from my blog, I don't meet many celebs.
I have claimed for many many years that I’ve met both Bill Clinton and Tony Blair, It’s little more than “meeting” in the sense that 20,000 people “meet” Steven Gerrard at Anfield every week, but it impresses most people. However, living in Liverpool, you do see the occasional celebrity (in the Dancing on Ice variety) on the piss. People like ex Everton footballers and the endless stream of Hollyoaks characters (including bad boy from 6 years ago Justin – who I saw in a strip club. Not that I was there, oh no). One person stands atop of the list of famous people I’ve met.

That man, is Roy Walker host of the popular TV Show Catchphrase.

I was 6 and loved game shows (such as The Crystal Maze and Fun House). On one of our regular trips to Llandudno, we stopped by for some food in Marks and Spencers. I was throwing a wobbly at the time because I was dragged out of the Early Learning Centre, which had just opened up across the street.

Then, my mum saw a man that'd put me out of my misery in a non-Ian Huntley way.

“Look Rhys! It’s Roy Walker! Come on, lets go and meet him!”

Suddenly, I develop the embarrassment that kids normally do when they meet celebrities, dentists or the hairdressers. I stopped crying and put on the breaks, as my mum dragged me over to Roy.

I gave in eventually and co-operated with my mum, after all, I wouldn’t want to show myself up in front of the legend of Roy. Luckily my mum did enough for me.

“Oh my goodness, you’re Roy Walker!” My mum said to a bemused Roy, “I love Catchphrase so much, we watch it all the time on Sunday night. This is my son Rhys, who is very good.”. If you know that cleverly crafted scene from Peter Kay's Phoenix Nights which features Roy, imagine my mum as Brian Potter, and Roy as...well...Roy. He either used this experience in his greatest acting performance ever, or he's just acts like that normally.

“Ah Rhys…Nice to meet yoy.” Answered a polite, albeit slightly annoyed Roy.

“He does this amazing impression of you! Go on Rhys, say what you say in front of the TV every week…”

Imagine me, 6 years old, wearing a Sonic The Hedgehog T-shirt. Bright red. Both Roy and his missus looked on as I struck up my worst Northern Irish accent.

“Look at Mr. Chips, what is he doin!”

Roy, visibly annoyed, said “That’s Good…that’s…”, and walked off. The rude sod. If the guy was on the ball he would have answered “It’s good, but it’s not right.”, that would of made my day.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:49, 2 replies)
Top of the tits
I was in the audience at top of the pops and shouted at nelly furtado to get her tits out just at the point of the music dying down.

I tried to pass it off as someone else by looking at the bloke next to me and tutting but sadly it didn't work so i ended up getting chased and kicked out by the bouncers.

It serves them right for selling alcohol there.
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:46, Reply)
My mum was once shoved out of the way by the minders of the then Prime Minister, Harold Wilson.
This happened at Belle Vue in Manchester. After that, whenever she saw him on TV she'd mutter 'He broke my arm!'
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:46, Reply)
Billie Piper
I was drunk...

I was at a festival...

I was backstage and there was free beer...

She was doing that annoying thing where she'd got a drink and was still standing blocking the bar.

I said 'Excuse me'
I said 'Excuse me!' rather loudly.

She turned around and smiled a lovely smile, obviously thinking I was a fan or something and had wandered over to say hello.

'Yes?' she asked.
I said 'Can you get out of my way please, I'm trying to get to the bar.'

I'm sorry if I was short with you Billie, I love you really, honest, and you were ever so nice about it...
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:46, Reply)
Curly Watts
A few years back he* actually released a single in an attempt to kick off a music career.

This coincided with me doing some work experience at Rock FM where he was due to do a short slot just before they played it.
When I said hello to him he totally blanked me before pulling the whole diva routine to a passing assistant because he hadn't got a drink yet and was having to wait 10 minutes longer than expected for his 30 second 'segment'.

Curly. Fucking. Watts.

The guy couldn't even sing.

*Obviously not, the actor who played the insufferable twat...apparently the role wasn't a stretch for him
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:44, 9 replies)
I'm on t'interweb
does that make me a celeb?
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:42, Reply)
I spent the night in Jordan once
the country, you dirty fuckers...
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:41, 5 replies)

(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:38, Reply)

*edit* - damn!
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:38, Reply)
Thought I'd try to get first for once
Seems I succeeded, now to read the qotw and best of ^_^
(, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 13:38, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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