Nothing big or clever I'm afraid...
I used to work at a well known theme park stroke zoo many years ago, in various departments. We had quite a few celebs in, Ade Edmonson was a laugh as was Frank Bruno. When I worked on a particular ride (The Vampire) I operated the cameras which would take pictures of you gurning at the fastest point on the coaster. (We had a box full of naughty versions. Did you really think we wouldn't print them and keep them? (For another QOTW.)) I met Terry Gilliam who was kind enough to do me two picture autographs as I printed him out some freebies (come on, who wouldn't? Made my year). One day I was told Andy Bell (Erasure I think) was in the park. As a bet this time, I ran up to him and told him how glad we were he was in the park. Later that afternoon, he sat in front of my kiosk licking an ice cream in what he obviously thought was a provocative manner, then gave me his 'phone number! Suffice to say I never followed that one up!
My favorite has to be the time I was told Danny Minogue (spl) was around. I told my collegue in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't touch her with his, and how her sister was the one who hadn't had a brush with the ugly tree. I turned around, and not two feet from me was Danny (is it Dannie?) flanked by two thug-u-likes. Our eyes met, hers with daggers, mine sheepish. I turned away, knowing I couldn't have pulled that one back, ever.
Now, I have to ask, does anyone have Monica Bellucci's 'phone number?
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 13:34, 5 replies)

Do you wanna take my picture?
Queued up for half an hour outside the comedy tent at the much missed Phoenix Festival one year. As I got closer and was handed a publicity photo to be signed, I finally came face to face with a seated Eddie Izzard. I'd already told myself "keep it simple, just say hi and thanks, nothing stupid" but there I was, nervously fiddling with the camera hung around my neck when Eddie says "do you want to take my picture?"
"Yes" I replied, and did so. Then I said "Do you want to take mine?" He gave me that sideways glance, the type he does when he's doing his James Mason impression and said "Okay....?"
So that's how I slightly weirded out Eddie Izzard and why a blurry pic of me taken at an odd angle is one of my favourite possessions.
(Mr McKenzie Mr McKenzie, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 13:17, 3 replies)

My friend Steve
Felt the red mist descend on him one night at the Birmingham Academy. Kasabian were DJing there (ie; noncing about on stage and getting drunk), when he noticed his girlfriend was on stage and that long haired, muppet looking, lead singer fellow from the band was gesticulating his genitalia at her, or 'dancing' as I believe the kids call it nowadays..

He felt the best course of action to be to nip over the barrier, jump onto the stage and punch the chap in the face...

He is now banned from said Academy.
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:58, 2 replies)

I thought long and well - limp about telling this one...
as it makes me out as a bit of a nuct. Not to many moons ago, when I was enjoying the spoils of a reasonably well paid job I took it unto myself to make a merry trip to the big smoke to do a bit of shopping, drink one or two beers and catch up with some old friends.

I got into the city at roughly midday on a Friday, for the next few hours I would be entertaining myself - a few beers here and there, a spot of shopping and wandering was suitable time wasting activity. Now although I lived in London for 3 years, I really don't know my way about, however I absolutely refuse to carry an A to Z and look like a tourist. I was in haymarket, bond street I believe - having just dodged evil glances from some anti fur protesters outside Joseph - when I decided I wanted to go to covent garden. Now I realised that I could have taken the tube, but also knew it was very close, so I walked.

Somehow I manged to guess the directions quite accurately, but was somewhat confused when approaching said destination to see a large film crew, a crowd gathered, and some hollywood type from sex and the city in the middle of the road stood on a box... Clearly this was an interesting spectacle, to be recorded for posterity on a mobile phone. . . Oh no, you see I had probably consumed at least 6 beers by this point - so I decided to walk right through the middle of the scene. I only hope that it was take 57, and besides me walking directly through line of sight, would have been a perfect take.

No one shouted at me - what do they expect for blocking a carriage way! I don't know who it was though - I think the blond old one. I would like to think I am so good looking they left me in!
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:44, Reply)

The late, great Arthur Lowe
barged to the front of a newsagent shop queue somewhere Brighton way, some years ago, outraging a colleague of mine, who told us with indignation how Lowe'd shoved past everyone to slam his Kitkat or whatever on the counter and demanded to be served first. After he paid he stalked out, slamming the door.

Yes, the words 'Do you know who I AM?' were used. Colleague and queue were left shaking with very English rage and resentment.
We all agreed that Lowe was truly a presumptuous prat.

However, after his death I read that he used to enjoy sending up his own rather pompous image by winding up people who recognised him, feeling that the public need baddies as well as heroes.

He lived in the area where my colleague saw him and so it's possible that everyone in the shop was in on the joke except that one stranger!

What a sport Lowe was.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:38, 2 replies)

Does physical abuse count?
Back in 1997 my wife and I went to see Robert Anton Wilson speak at Imperial College. Before it started she was desperate for a leak (after a long beer fuelled train journey) and bolted in the direction of the loo, through some double doors and straight into Bob, knocking him over.
(manwiddicombe is thinking of something witty to add here, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:22, 2 replies)

An A-List Hollywood Star's*
Mum gave me a potato ricer. It is ancient and was her grandmother's.

*and Broadway Star

Never mind the length - feel the weight
(Biff..., Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:19, Reply)

Ranulph Fiennes... man of steel?
he may have got to the South Pole, climed Everest and suvived triple heart bypass surgery...

But Ranulph Fiennes was no match for Lady Scaramanga's dad when she was a nipper.

The story goes that she was in a push chair being pushed by her dad, on a slightly narrow path in their home town (a small Suffolk coastal town), when SIR Ranulph, and friends came bounding up the hill as if they were travesing the north face of the Eiger. They showed no sign of making any attempt to make way for a man and his daughter, and barged past, forcing them into the road, nearly toppling Lady S' pushcair under the wheels of an approaching car.

Lady S' dad does not suffer fools gladly.

he turns on his heels, pokes the national treasure in the back and proceeds to vent spleen of the 'Who the hell do you think you are?' variety, puncuated with some pre-watershed swearing.

This was over 20 years ago, but to this day, he still shouts and swears at the TV if his name is mentioned.
( Joe Scaramanga with a G-double-O-D vibration, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 12:18, Reply)

There is no way to make this story sound manly
so I'm not even going to try. I'd also like to state for the record that the definition of "celebrtity" is about to be stretched somewhat.

In 2008, the BBC in the East of England ran several events for Children in Need, in which local radio and TV broadcasters were paired with students from local dance schools to take part in a Strictly Come Dancing-style competition. I'm sure you can guess at this point why manliness is about to leave the building. I was paired with Look East newsreader Amelia Reynolds which was a blinding stroke of luck - she was keen, very fit (she was in training for the London marathon at the time - when she told me this I blurted out, "Oh I'll be able to see you on telly" - to a NEWSREADER) and the same height as my girlfriend (seriously! I do have one!) who's my regular dance partner, so it was easy to teach her some basic routines.

As the time ticked by until the event I got more and more confident as it became apparent that no-one was taking it quite as seriously as us. I'm not actually that good at ballroom and never won owt, so this was uncharted territory for me. On the night everyone most people were bricking it, which only made me more of a cocky twat. We made the final 3 and had to dance Jive, which was what we were hoping for. I remember standing aside watching another couple do their Cha Cha Cha and practising my victory speech, which I had promised myself would not contain the words "FUCK YEAH" at any point.

I don't know how familiar any of you are with the Jive but it's a very high-energy dance. In most competitions you'd only have to dance for about 90 seconds. But not here. Oh no. They had a live big band and we had to Jive for the full 4 minutes. I realised the wheels were coming off the victory wagon when my legs started to feel like THEY WERE SET IN FUCKING CONCRETE. Mistakes happen when your legs won't move quickly enough. In front of a couple of hundred people. And TV cameras.

The scores came up. We lost. By one point. 38 out of 40 (they obviously weren't watching) for us, the other couple got 39. There was a prize presentation, a closing group dance, and then we had to smile for cameras, give little soundbites about what a great experience it had been, what a good cause it was. It took me about 15 minutes to get away upstairs and find an empty in room in which to cry out

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKK

ONE

FUCKING

POINT

bollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocksbollocks

But my parents were well chuffed when this cropped up online



I'm the twat in the silly red tie.


(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 11:46, 2 replies)

On my lunch today,
I am going to Waterstone's as David Attenborough is doing a book signing. If the book is cheap I'll buy it and get it signed, if it isn't, I'll just gawp.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Tue 13 Oct 2009, 11:10, 4 replies)

No time for Russian about…
A couple of weeks ago I was in London and I went to see a Chelsea match at Stamford Bridge.

Whilst queuing for the bar I heard a bit of a kerfuffle, so I turned round to see none other than Roman Abramovich acting like a properly arrogant cum-flick!

I tell you…he was swanning around as if he owned the place…
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Tue 13 Oct 2009, 11:06, Reply)

There have been a few, here is a small selection
For some bizarre reason I've met a few very well known people in my time but only a few insulted me or I was nasty to them but some did rather diss me - here's a selection of the ones I remember (the others I've probably blotted out like childhood abuse)

1. As a ten year old watching Falkirk FC and one night finding myself stranded in Leven (Fife) at 10pm thanks to the police moving the Away Supporters Bus without telling us, my mate and I (actually he being the brother of Robin Guthrie of the Cocteau Twins since we are on celeb themes) blagged our way onto the football team bus for a lift back to the town. My mate hassled me nonstop as soopn as we were on board to go to the back of the bus where the players were huddled playing cards - for some mad reason he thought they would want to talk to us - so eventually I broke and I did as he said only for a tall, stern figure to rise out of his seat just as I got to half way down the aisle and told me to "Fuck off back to the front of the bus, son". The tall figure being no-one less than Alex Ferguson in his then youthful role of relatively inept centre forward for my team.

2. After a hard day of moving a magazine in Dublin out of their offices into vans mostly by hand, we took the opportunity to use the trollies we had purloined for the task as makeshift luges and test out the long corridors in the building as substitute ice tracks. Each taking it in turn to skite along the long smooth concrete floors and see how far we could get. I managed the best run of the evening but as I came to a slow halt and looked up to see how far I got I could only perceive Andrea Corr standing at the door of the rehearsal studios which were situated at the end of the same corridor slowly eating a kiwi fruit while looking gorgeous in a kimono. I stared back at this heavenly sight above me (full makeup too) and as she turned on her heel none too impressed I heard her mutter "fucking boys".

3. Kate Moss at Frieze Art Fair VIP opening standing next to Gwyneth Paltrow - the former lovely in jeans and boots the latter much less so in whatever hemp cloth she was wearing. With glass in hand I turned to Moss who was only two feet away from me and said unbelievably stupidly something like "I've wanted to meet you for years ever since I saw you on the cover of The Face back in the day and here is my chance and I've got this on my lip" Simultaneously I indicated my rather crusty cold sore to her. I do not blame her for simply staring at me with venom and turning 180 degrees away from my stupid stupid mouth and herpe.

4. Monica Lewinsky - she was briefly a client of mine when she was in London. I hassled her for a lunch date and she very sweetly agreed. After an hour I was in awe and utterly understood why Clinton put his career on the line with her: much more beautiful in the flesh (she had also lost weight from the early puppy fat days) and so so clever (you don't make White House intern by being stupid after all). I was besotted and the wine didnt help. I didn't insult her nor did she me but it hurt just as much when she declined to meet me again after finding out quite what I was like in the flesh and then soon stopped chatting on emails where up to then we'd got on swimmingly. Ouch - distain by silence.

As a passing last thought in my experience celebs are mostly nice people - the press and their own PR agencies make them seem bad by playing the hype game. We get the Spectacle we deserve - Guy Debord was right.
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 8:34, 3 replies)

Wankin' on the Radio
I used to do a radio show. Nothing like your big international famous radio announcer, oh no, not me. I was an announcer on a little community radio station in Brisbane, Australia (hint: rhymes with More Nipple Fred).

As a result of being a Friday afternoon announcer, I ended up meeting a few rockstar-type peoples who were in town to make loud noises on a stage for paying punters, or being led around by the floppy bits by some record label wankoff to promote something or other. Half the time I didn't care; half the time I was completely munted (there weren't any policies about on-air drunkenness or broadcasting under the influence of mind-bendy substances back in t'olden days).

So for a few of the celebrities that I have 'interviewed' (I use the term loosely, as someone promoting their album/live show while sitting opposite a drooling, drugfucked retard isn't really an interview) . . .

Jeff Martin of The Tea Party - was mainly concerned with showing off how 'spiritually aware' he was. Majorly into occult philosophy, but mainly used it to shag anything that moved.

Tim Wheeler of Ash - nice young chap. Genuinely enthusiastic about being on the radio. Answered every question except "So, did you manage to shag Charlotte Hatherley yet?"

Ben Harper - Didn't want to be there, didn't want to answer questions, didn't want to be on the radio. I went to a song, switched the mic off and said "You really don't want to be here, do you?" To which he replied, "No, I don't."
"Well, why did you come down here then?"
"Hey man, the record company organised this, not me."

Phil Jamieson of Grinspoon - complete fucking wanker. Monosyllabic grunts aren't really an answer to a question, retard.

Richie Lewis of Tumbleweed - Great guy. Answered every question with an essay's worth of words, then invited me to get stoned with him after the interview :)

Stone Gossard of Pearl Jam/Brad - This one took the cake. Gossard wandered into the studio, completely full of himself, then proceeded to bitch out all the other bands he was playing with off-mic during songs. Having had enough of this sort of behaviour, I surreptitiously turned his mic back on while he was in mid-rant, so that all of Brisbane could hear his opinion of "these stupid fuckin' shitty-ass bands that we're supposed to be playing with tonight".

Rock stars. Bah humbug.
(thanateros Does Not Play Well With Others, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 4:01, Reply)

I've never had many encounters with celebrities
but two do spring to mind.

It was around 1983 or so, and I was working in one of the few clubs in Rochester NY. I was kitchen and support staff- basically, if it was too shit a task for anyone else to do, it was up to me.

One night we had an up and coming type act playing, some odd-looking little redhead with a huge voice who came in during the afternoon to do a sound test dressed in jeans and an old flannel shirt. The place was packed to the gills that night as she was bouncing and warbling and making odd sounds. We stayed quite busy, and I was rushing about all evening. I got home in the wee hours and crashed hard.

The next morning I had to help open, and was rather bleary as I got there and started the coffee. I had just started getting the kitchen ready when the boss popped out of his office. "Hey, that chick left a mess in the dressing room last night. Go clean it out, will ya?"

Well, they had tried to clean it up, but apparently she had had a bad gastrointestinal experience, because there were barf stains all around. I grumbled but scrubbed it out anyway.

Then during the lunch rush someone reported that there was something on the rug back by the ladies' room. I was sent to deal with it- and found a crusty pile of vomit that had gone undetected until that point. I used a dustpan as a shovel, trying not to add to it.

And that, my friends, was my only contact with Cyndi Lauper.

(My other experience was when Joan Jett and the Blackhearts performed. After the show she went through the kitchen to exit and passed by about two feet from me. Even in a restaurant kitchen the stench of her unwashed body was enough to make me step back fast. I wouldn't fuck her with Maggie Thatcher's dick.)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 13 Oct 2009, 2:27, 1 reply)

Steve Coogan is a Knob
Friend of mine used to run an Unwins on western road in brighton and got a call shortly before closing one night, the guy turns up ten minutes later and turns out to be the chauffeur for a rather wankered coogan who spilled out the back seat (passenger seat was empty for some reason) brandishing a list of booze.
My mate went to get it and started to help coogan load up, at which point he shoves him away going "fuck off, fuck off, I can fucking do it, fuck off".
My mate stands back and looks at the chauffeur who waved an apology and made the twirly-finger gesture at his temple to suggest that coogan was well and truly gone that night.
They drove off with Coogan scowling out the window at him, only for my mate to look down and see he'd left a box containing three bottles of JD, 6 packets of fags, and a bottle of stolychniya on the pavement.

As I was sofa surfing at his flat without a penny to my name at the time; they helped me drink away my unemployment for the next 4 days.

Cheers Steve, you space cadet cunt.
(Twenty Camels, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 1:49, 2 replies)

Jennymnemonics post has reminded me
I love going to the theater, and my desperate Christmas Wish every year is to get season tickets to the Orange County Performing Arts Center for their Broadway season.

A couple years ago, a friend and I went to see "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels" and it was fricking hilarious! We laughed so hard, and so much that we decided to go back a few days later for closing night.

One of the scenes involves one of the lead characters pausing before he gives the girl a kiss.....at which point, from the front row, little old me yells "Go on, give her one!"
The entire cast cracked up laughing, the orchestra who were just below us were busting up and it took a good few minutes for the audience to calm down.

After he'd kissed her, the lead actor looked at me and said "is that better?".
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Tue 13 Oct 2009, 0:10, 1 reply)

The double act game
David Baddiel came to open our village fete with his girlfriend who looked like she didn't want to be there.
After the ribbon cutting my mate strolled up to David and loudly said "DAVID!, it's a shame you aren't as funny as Frank, he pretty much carries you"
His girlfriends reaction was beautiful, she went mental while David racked his brain for a comeback, finding nothing but mate ended with "Frank would have thought of a comeback" and then sauntered off
(BuiltByBen, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 23:39, Reply)

Humph and his Band
Obviously a few years ago now, and a bit off topic as they were all really friendly. Basically it was a fairly basic open-air concert and I was tasked with helping set stuff up but nothing too technical as I was just a volunteer, herding people about beforehand and should have been helping tidy up afterwards.

It turned into "keep the trombonist relatively sober, but lubricated enough for him to be happy" then "steer the trombonist in the right direction while he staggers about" then "please carry the trombonist's case for him when we all head back for a meal, otherwise he will leave it somewhere in the bushes and forget about it" but he was a nice drunk.
( Thrill_My_Chinchilla is old and unimproved, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 23:34, 3 replies)

The Cotton Club ... in a past life
I was lucky enough to spend time with the some of the stars of the Cotton Club: Cab Calloway, Harold and Fayard Nicholas, Max Roach, Adelaide Hall & Co.

They were without exception the most urbane, cultured, well-mannered, warm-hearted, generous and genuinely lovely people I ever had the privilege to be around. Although I was a third of their age, and not worthy to organise their shoe cupboards, they were happy to answer callow questions, share war stories, sing, demonstrate dance steps and generally hang out.

These were international super stars, yet they treated me, each other, and everyone they met, with an extraordinary respect and politeness that belonged to another time.

Seriously - these stars were not even allowed to sit in the audience of the club they starred in, because of their colour. They saw other (white) song and dance stars become millionaires, while they provided the 'backing'. At all stages of their careers they were exploited, ripped off, presumed upon - in so many ways. But looking back, they simply saw themselves as infinitely lucky to have made careers from their talents.

OK no relevance to this thread - unless I can say I wish I could have been more appreciative to them at the time.
( Bootsthealchemist is barred from the Masterchef Facebook page, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 23:27, 2 replies)

My ex..
My ex girlfriend is from LA and her Dad works on film sets, so she's grown up in film studios and met every celebrity there is to meet.
I also found out recently that she's a lying, cheating whore of a woman, and has destroyed my faith in American- and Female-kind for ever.

Slightly off-topic? Nah..
(r0ach, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 22:28, 6 replies)

My Kenny Baker 'Backie'
I once gave diminutive actor Kenny Baker a ride on the back of my Grifter during some down time on one of the location shoots for 'The Time Bandits' in the forest near where I live. In return he let me wear his leather flying cap and specially made goggles for half an hour. David Rappaport took some pictures on his then brand new Polaroid camera and I often wonder what became of them. John Cleese and Terry Gilliam were there as well but I didn't know who they were at the time.
(hiplingo hiplingo, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 21:54, 1 reply)

i ruined spudgun's night
i was pissed, me and a few mates had spent the night drinking flavoured vodkas and then I turn round and see ' spudgun ' from bottom at the bar.
I ran over shouting "SPUDGUUUUN!!!!' and gave hima a hug. He was underwhelmed to say the least.

When we left I had to walk past him, so i sheepishly said 'sorry spudgun' and he gave me a dirty look
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 21:35, 1 reply)

Once bumped into Shakin' Stevens and Michael J. Fox
on a night out.

Your punchlines please.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 19:57, Reply)

Gillian Taylforth
had a puncture and had pulled into a layby, she was standing by the side of the road looking disressed. I stopped to help and replaced the punctured tyre with her spare. "I am ever so grateful" she said, "How can I repay you?". She didn't have any cash on her.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 19:43, Reply)

James May
shouted at me for cycling over his train set the other week.

Probably be on telly soon, with a voice-over about vandals.
(inflateable, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 19:30, 1 reply)

Mark Speight
Used to hang out with him in Paddington station.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 19:28, 1 reply)

Stan Collymore
I quite often see him when I'm out walking the dog.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 19:26, Reply)

Just last Saturday night
I met Michael Barrymore in a bar on Mallorca.

On reflection, it wasn't he best idea to invite him back home with me and my boyfriend...
(Capo, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 19:15, 1 reply)

Wheelchair shenanigans
Looking back I saw Stephen Hawking sat at the bottom of the ramp. He almost killed me.


Another time I saw in M&S while looking for a handbag for my Mum’s Christmas present. Wanting to say something to him I went “Um, Mr Hawking can I say I really liked your book?”
He replied (I’m sure you can imagine the voice) “Yes”
I paused for a second before realising that he’d just given me permission to say “I like really like your book!” So I did, thinking what a pretentious git. Thinking about it now I wonder if he was just being funny. It must be difficult getting humour across with that voice box.
(ab1kenobe, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 18:18, 5 replies)

oooh, lots...
I used to be Marketing Manager for a department store that had various celebrities come to visit to promote their wares; the likes of the wonderful late Mo Mowlam (who got us all thoroughly wankered in her hotel bar after a book signing one evening), Murray Walker, James Martin, Tim Smit, creator of the Eden Project in Cornwall and so on, but there are a few who stick in my mind for the wrong reasons!

Delia Smith was a particular diva, who clearly felt herself on a par with Madonna ("I want a certain brand of mineral water,cold! but no ice!", was then made to rearrange an entire book signing backdrop and queues,as Delia "likes to sit with her back to the wall"), Valentina Harris (Times chef) making a complete (scorched) pigs ear of some poor defenceless scallops in a cookery demo. The best one of the lot? Anthony Worrall Thompson. A more miserable, self obsessed, drama queen I've ever had the misfortune to meet. At least hardly anyone turned up to his book signing, so he sat like a sulky kid for an hour and a half. Oh, and he had a stinking hangover and reeked of stale booze. I didn't laugh-much.

Oh, and I was once incredibly rude to Joe Pasquale while waitressing once; he was performing at the local theatre and I didn't realise who he was so he was treated to a large helping of woodkat sarcasm. I just thought he was some annoying twat putting on a squeaky voice. So I wasn't too far out, really.
(woodkat loves comic sans, Mon 12 Oct 2009, 18:11, 1 reply)