Womack and Womack
I used to work in a hotel in Cornwall. It was on the cliff tops and down the road was a music venue for shit artists. I managed to spill coffee on marti Pellow which was well sweet. I also met Womack & Womack and asked which one was which?
They made a complaint as apparently I was giggling all day.
(XsadeagleX, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 11:19, Reply)

Yep - it's another story told on behalf of a friend...
I've not met - or at least, not recognised - many celebs, and even fewer of them generated anecdotes. But I have a number of friends - I could stop there, couldn't I? - who have had encounters with the rich'n'famous that were a touch more noteworthy.

My friend V, whom I've mentioned on these pages in the past, spent a year living in Australia a while ago. She had a flat in a place called Kirribilli, which is on Syndey harbour: from one window in her living room, you got a view of one end of the bridge, and from the other window you got a view of the other end.

One day, she was out running. She had her stereo on, and, by her own admission, was in a world of her own. The same, presumably, could be said for the small group of male joggers coming the other way - certainly for one of them, with whom V collided.

They offered each other perfunctory apologies and carried on; but V had a sense that she recognised the man's face.

And then it came to her. She'd just run into the then Prime Minister.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 11:04, Reply)

Pearoast: The Night I Tried to Kidnap Peter Andre
In around 1997/8, I had used to be deputy editor of Hullfire, the Hull student newspaper; my friend Emma was editor and music editor. We spent much of our time on the phone to PR companies blagging freebies: we managed to get onto the guest list of just about every gig within travelling distance for a couple of years. Many of these gigs were amazing - some were amazing for the wrong reasons. Into the latter category goes the Viking FM-sponsored Peter Andre/ Steps/ North and South concert at Hull Ice Arena.

It was like a pre-pubescent Nuremberg rally. Emma and I made a point of getting as gothy-looking as possible, the better to scare the kids and their parents (with whom we actually ended up chatting at the back of the arena) - but the kids were scarier.

Now, in Hull there is (or was at the time: I don't know whether it's still going) a club called Spiders - a rock and indie type place that was a second home to me, Emma and our circle of friends. At the end of the concert, the night was still young, so Emma and I decided to go there. And then we noticed something.

We had our press passes in lanyards around our necks. Those passes had the magic words "ACCESS ALL AREAS" on them.

For a moment I lamented the fact that I'd not spent more time in the green room trying to get to know Faye Tozer - but it was too late for that now. What had to happen now was to find some way to exploit an all-areas pass and yet not to waste too much time that could productively be spent getting wankered at Spiders.

A plan formed.

We would kidnap Peter Andre and take him with us.

He'd love it. And at the end of the evening, we could kill him and throw him into the docks. Or something.

We headed for a door marked "PRIVATE" and went through. Noone stopped us. Very quickly, we found ourselves backstage - not only backstage, but outside a dressing room. A dressing room on the door of which was actually a gold star and the words "MR ANDRE". We opened it, bracing ourselves for an encounter with the Greasy One. We felt that what we were about to do would be comparable to the Red Brigade's kidnapping of Aldo Moro - only with pop music.

We were not yet in the dressing room proper - just a vestibule that was empty. Empty apart from two HUGE bouncers. They encouraged us to leave. We pointed at our passes - but we knew which way this was going. They encouraged us to leave again. Attempting to salvage some dignity, Emma and I looked at each other.
"We just wondered whether Peter'd like to come clubbing with us," one of us - I can't remember which - ventured.

One of the bouncers looked at us coldly. "I doubt it," he said.

He was probably right.

Chastened, we left.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 10:36, 6 replies)

Dirty Looks..
I have managed to get Dirty Looks from two celebs, without having done much to either..


One: Andi Peters. Never did anything to him, but he looked at me, my then girlfriend, her sister nnd her sister's BF as if we were something he'd just stepped in. IIIRC, he mouthed something as well. We were at a Micheal Jackson concert at Wembley Stadium, and we were happily settling down in the stands (well, I wasn't happy, I wanted to go to the front, but my then GF wanted to sit down and I thought it best to do what she wanted).

Anyhow, he walked in front of us, blocked our view then looked at us like dirt. He soon moved though.


The second one was the guy who plays Bradley Branning in Eastenders. I was in my local just heading for the bar to get a round in. Bradley and mate push in front, then give me a dirty look.
(Ok, I'll get me coat, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 10:04, Reply)

Googlewhacked
My local Borders store has an overlooking Starbucks that myself and my mates still visit pretty much once a week - it was almost every morning when we were at uni' together, and out of tradition, we've tried to keep it going - and it's been about 6 years since we all finished higher education; but I digress...

One evening, after work we all decided to meet up in the usual fashion, only to find a gathering of about fifteen or so people at the one end of Starbucks, all sitting in rows. We ordered our overpriced high calore/high caffeine beverages, and sat on a table next to the small crowd.

In front of them was a small display of a book "Googlewhack Adventure". Ten or so minutes passed, and author/comic Dave Gorman appeared, ready to give a short talk about his book, and then, to sign them.

He spent twenty five minutes trying to entertain the group. Twenty whole minutes of some seriously unfunny "jokes". In all that time not one person laughed; there were just plenty of awkard silences whilst he expected at least a titter. Nothing, not a sound, the poor man had died "on stage" and was unable to claw back a single giggle.

My mates and I finished our coffees and waited for him to announce that he was ready to sign books. At that moment, we took the opportunity to stand up, scraping out chairs in the process - which was quite effective as everyone else was still very quiet, and walk out.

I still wonder to this day how many books he sold that evening...
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 9:48, 1 reply)

I saw Bill Bailey at the Lowry in Salford.
He was shit.

No, really. And most of his jokes were recycled from his previous sets.
(Flap Burger hasn't really got a burger made of flaps, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 8:34, 6 replies)

Simon Amstell, the weeble.
I seem to have this habit of knocking over diddy Simon Amstell every couple of years or so.

Well, it's happened twice. Firstly, I was barrelling along after a bus on North Bridge (in Edinburgh - it was festival time) and knocked over what I at first thought was a little girl, but upon helping up the diminutive mop top, I realised it was Simon Amstell. Expecting some snappy comeback, I braced myself, but he was actually a bit shaken, and I felt sorry for him.

And then I did almost axactly the same thing this year, only on George IV bridge, and this time it was my girlfriend who helped him up. He was quite nice about it again. Actually, it must happen to him all the time. A strong gust of wind could have him over.
(suckfake Frisky biscuits, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 8:33, 3 replies)

Catherine Z.
There's an enormously famous female celebrity who started life on a British TV show. Let's just call her Catherine Z.

Anyway. Just before she became famous a mate of mine was on the crew of a low budget English movie she was making.

Obviously the whole crew had a crack at her, and she batted them off easily.

My mate (Leeds tattoos up his arm..) decided the best course of action was to totally ignore her.

It worked.

When the crew stopped filming for a break, she actually asked him to London with her for the weekend. He kept up the ignoring tactic by refusing, saying that 'he was going to a Leeds game.'

This intrigued her greatly.

When the film ended, they had a huge wrap party in a nightclub.

He got hammered.

She slid up to him and asked him to slow dance.

He said yes.

She nuzzled his neck.

Then, in his own words, he did two things he'll 'regret for the rest of his life.'

The first was to place to hands on her arse and squeeze.

When she backed off he said..

"Come on, you LOVE it."

Needless to say he went home alone.
( waz4444 Escorts, bescorts - Come in if you're saucy., Mon 12 Oct 2009, 8:28, 1 reply)

my mates mum
My mates mum used to date Elvis costellos dad.

We love elvis costello and constantly ask her to ring him up and see if he wants to reignite their old flame, just so we can get some slight possible chance to meet his great son.

Sadly she refuses to get out of her bed in the care home.

Selfish bitch
(EvilMeister, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 8:12, Reply)

Jimmy Carr
A mate of mine used to run comedy club thingies in Pubs and was trying to convince me to appear (as I used to do that sort of thing many moons ago).

I turned up to watch one to see wot all the fuss was about and was presented with an entirely unfunny nerdy guy in a cheesecloth shirt.
He was so unfunny that afterwards, when I was asked to give him some tips on comedy all I could think to say was "lose the shirt, its too distracting".

So now every time I see him on tv I cant help but notice I've never seen him in a cheesecloth shirt.

And he's still an unfunny cunt
(EvilMeister, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 8:08, Reply)

Michaela Strachan
I was in a ski bar in the Alps. Michaela Strachan was in there with her baldy husband. Anyhow, one of the female members of our party came out of the bogs and informed us that Michaela Strachan does not wash her hands. Flash forwards 3 months and I'm watching Big Breakfast. She's on it. They did that section where they ask the guest a % question.

Jonny V: "So Michaela, what percentage of people don't wash their hands after going to the bog?"
Me: "Well you don't you dirty bitch!!!"
(nraphael, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 6:58, 1 reply)

Out of the mouth of babes
On a flight from Perth to Sydney a couple of years ago, I was surprised to find the passenger behind me was none other than a heavily pregnant Kate Blanchet. Although most of the passengers in the business class cabin ogled her and whispered to each other "it's Kate Blanchet, It's Kate Blanchet........" no one had the balls to speak to her, which was probably because she had a look on her face of what seemed to be extreme dissatisfaction with the world. (I actually figured out later she was flying back from Heath Ledgers funeral).

My four year old son who was sitting directly in front of her didn't follow suit and had no problem standing on his seat looking over the top at her and commanding her to open and close the window shade about 50 times during the flight. I am not one of those parents who lets there kids run amuck on planes so I was doing my best to restrain him but, because he actually a micro sized cunt, every time my attention was diverted the little bugger would jump up look over the seat and give his instructions usually starting with the words "hey lady".

To her credit she did as he told her each and every time.
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 4:40, Reply)

Not rude, just scared
Before Peter Andre became a b-, or c-list British celebrity, he was a b- or C list Australian celebrity.

And, 12-13 years ago, a much more enthusiastic PizzaForCat was working in a Greenpeace stall at the annual Speers Point Show (just outside Newcastle, NSW), trying to encourage general greeniness whilst desperately trying to use his activist credentials to impress the pretty girlie in the next stall.

On the other side, a small, frightened-looking, pretty little man in makeup was huddled behind the stall, having a quick smoke. I joined him in his huddle, scabbed a smoke off him, and had a quick chat about the general shit-ness of the outer suburbs of Newcastle, and the fact that the headlining act, Humphrey B.Bear had no pants.

He finished his smoke, said 'Well, time to get back to work', disappeared into a mob of musculy bloked who escorted him up to the stage where he started bouncing around and looking enthusiastic.

Every time I see some shite in teh tabloids, about how much better Peter and Jordan are than the rest of us, all I can think about is the other headlining act for that show, and the scared little guy I bummed a fag off.
(pizzaforcat ate some cement and HARDENED the FUCK UP on, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 4:13, Reply)

International Incident - Near Miss
Ten or so years ago I was involved in sales, and accordingly had to travel nearly every day. This meant a lot of hanging around in airports, teleconferencing and all that other mundane corporate twaddle.

Anyhow, one particular day in between flights I had booked a small meeting room at Auckland airport to fit in a teleconference with some important clients (i.e. handsome potential commission). Halfway through my call, a lady from the airport staff nervously enters, and after interrupting my call, humbly requests that I leave the room early, acknowledging that I had indeed booked it. As I was having a bad day, I refused and said I will be out in ten minutes if that could be accomodated.

The airport lady shuffles out, however not a minute later a large portly pacific gentleman in a Tommy Cooper hat bursts into the room. Now I am annoyed.

"Listen mate, I told the airport lady I will be out in ten minutes. I've got it booked so sod off alright".

The gentleman retires, closing the door. Again, not a minute later two more pacific gents burst in. They are a real pair of brain hurters. Both over six foot six, but now I am not a man to be trifled with...

"What the fuck is going on here!...Get out...give me ten minutes for fuck's sake"

The hurts look at each other and leave closing the door. Peace at last. I finish my call, and as promised I vacate the room within ten minutes. On the way out, I pass the airport lady and ask what the fuss was all about.

As it turns out, apparently the King of Tonga does not like waiting in the lounge like everyone else, and particularly doesn't like being told to sod off. oops.
(Mandrill, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 3:38, 2 replies)

Fame, I want to live forever, I wanna learn how to fly.
I was on a flight down to London to appear in a show. I get an aisle seat, so I can stretch my legs. A remarkably unattractive girl sits on the aisle seat next to me. It's not the longest flight in the world but you are in the plane for a good hour at least. Anyway, Occasionally whilst looking at the trolly dollies going past (so as not to get my legs ran over) I make eye contact with her, she smiles. I, being the cunt that I am, make that eyebrow statement that says "I'm way out of your league love".
It was whilst waiting for the Bus and people started talking to her it dawned upon me that I had infact mistaken, Natalie Cassidy's (of Sonia Jackson Eastenders fame) polite smile that she must give to everyone who probably recognises her all the time, for some sort of come on.
Yes I am that guy.
Oh and I've been in a relationship with a fairly famous (has had No.1 in the Album charts) musician. But it ended badly and I don't want to have her name dragged to through the mud with a tabloid of "X fucked a male stripper" as she is a really lovely down to earth girl who somehow thought I was a nice guy, but as she learned too late I am a self absorbed cunt, I still miss her dearly. But if you listen really closely to some guitar heavy lead female vocals on a certain song its about how much of a self absorbed cunt I am.
Hmmmm off to slit my wrists and listen to her album.
( Laird Dave Draws Now charges to take off his clothes., Mon 12 Oct 2009, 2:05, 2 replies)

Say goodnight JV
I sold John Virgos wife a pair of running shoes. He was very miserable and had no sense of humour whatsoever.

I also sold a cap to Phil Oakey from The Human League. I didnt recognise him at first though.

I didnt abuse either of them I'm afraid.
(RainKing What do I put here then?, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 23:36, Reply)

edited
fucking lawyers
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 23:12, 5 replies)

When I was 16 I used to be a radio presenter on a rather large radio station.
One afternoon I was getting ready to go out (I was meeting a friend when he finished work and then going out clubbing). I realised that we'd run out of milk so I finished getting dressed and went to the shop, purchased said milk and returned to realise that I didn't have my keys. Knowing that the rest of my family were going to be out til pretty late and that my friend wasn't finishing work for a couple of hours I needed something to do so I decided to pop into the radio station and say hi to the presenter.

I got there to find a crowd of teenage girls outside the station and a security guard standing outside who let me in once I showed him my swipe card. Once I got into the studio I figured out what the commotion outside was - Westlife were on air. They were all quite nice but didn't seem all that interested in me except for Brian who asked me if I was a news reader so I told him I was a presenter at the weekend. I was about to make myself a cup of tea so offered everyone else one and the presenter said he wanted one so I wander off for 5 minutes and come back with the cup of tea at which point Brian asked me if I was a news reader again - not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, but nice none the less.
(mmm....beer, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 23:05, Reply)

Today
i filmed a music video with a few celebs in it. I wont to go into detail as everyone knows my board name at work and it would be impolitic but you'll see it on TV soon i'm hoping. Nice folk, not one cross word even though it was bloody hot in the studio and it was a few hours of being energetic and smiley.

so there. boring eh? wish i could say more but hey.
(DreddPirateBob has watched every scifi film ever on, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 22:59, Reply)

Michael Smiley Smiley
I work in a comedy club and we have a few semi-famous people through our doors. Around March this year, we had Michael Smiley. Or Tyres from Spaced to you or I.

Lovely fella. Spent Friday night in Buffalo Bar with him, Dan Harding and a blind comedian called Chris McCausland, occasionally having to stand behind Chris so he didn't fall backwards down a small set of steps. As were leaving, Tyres asked me to take a photo of him and three girls dressed up as bunnies. The disgruntled bunnies. He was a sound bloke. He licked my face. There is a photo of him licking my face.

Anyway, the night progressed back to a mates flat where we carried on drinking until it all got a bit heated and Smiley proceeded to flip off the blind guy. Hilarious.

I have also played football with Kevin Bridges, Lloyd Langford, Mick Ferry and cooked a meal for the lovely Lucy Porter.
(BenjaminTheGreat, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 22:45, 2 replies)

Wretched hive of villainy and scum?
Absolutely.

Last night, in a bar in Preston, I sat near the actual man who played R2D2.

It was at a Mike Walker gig, one of the true great performers of our time, and it was a privelege to be present at such a display of excellence from both him and the other musicians. I was informed near the start of the gig that the man to our right was actor Kenny Baker who played R2D2. Until then I had no idea anyone at all played R2D2, assuming it was an entirely robotic piece of equipment. The music was outstanding, but I found it hard to keep my concentration on the band as my gaze kept sliding over to Kenny while I tried to visualise him in an R2D2 suit, and wondered whether he controlled the movement or if he was remote controlled by someone else outside...

I found this a lot funnier than I should.
( warmfuzzies Isn't here, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 22:27, 7 replies)

I used to work in a lap dancing club when I was 18
There - that got your attention.

One night I'm standing around in the bar area getting pissed and chatting to customers in the hope that they'd either a) be fun to talk to, b) buy me a drink or c) pay me to take my clothes off, when some bloke that looked like Robbie Williams but shorter walks by me (I'm only about 5'8" in stilettos and he was a good few inches shorter than me). A while later the news got around the club that Robbie Williams was indeed in the VIP room. Apparently he refused to pay for anything but demanded champagne and loads of lapdances, worse still he ordered one of the girls to give him a blow job. This was at the height of his solo career so even though she was pissed off by his attitude she did it in the hope of selling the story to the papers, it seems they weren't interested because he got up to that sort of stuff all the time (and no it wasn't me).
(mmm....beer, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 22:15, 4 replies)

I once saw Michael Barrymore in the local swimming baths
He did 5 lengths under the watchful eye of most of the other swimmers there, then got out for a pie and chips.

You couldn't fucking move for dead raped gay men in the slow lane, the selfish cunt.
(Spaff_Quaffer Wise fwom your gwave., Sun 11 Oct 2009, 22:11, Reply)

Stewart Lee has threatened to kill me
after I insinuated that he was fat
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 21:55, 2 replies)

Out and about
I've been getting stalked by the Zutons for the past three years, first Abi sat next to me in our doctor's waiting room, then one of the guitarists was in my way in a record store, and most recently I saw Dave McCabe pissed off his tits at my mate's gig (and he's now started sending me random things on twitter)

Also saw Jason MacAteer in Costa the other week, threw me a bit, would've thought he could afford a slight better coffee
(cs192 is sucking on a Koala at, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 21:53, Reply)

While on the beers in Leicester in 2001....
....I wiped my knob of the driver's door handle of Robbie Savage's Ferrari.

At least, I was told it was his Ferrari.
(commodore69 loves big butts, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 21:29, 4 replies)

So my Ma works for a company
that is of interest mainly to older people and therefore advertises in SAGA magazine.
She is rather high up in the company and as such was invited to a sit down dinner hosted by Terry Wogan and attended by many other celebrity old farts.

She spent the evening sat next to David Nobbs who wrote Rise and Fall of Reginald Perrin. They exchanged e-mail addresses and they talk, but she didn't have the heart to tell him that she thought the new version with Martin Clunes was shite.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sun 11 Oct 2009, 21:27, Reply)

I live next to some dwarves.
But I hardly see them, they're always off to work.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 11 Oct 2009, 21:18, 2 replies)