I don't believe it.
I’m an Irish priest and one day I saw Richard Wilson by a local tourist spot.

I went up to him and did his catchphrase in my best ‘Richard Wilson’ accent

He kicked the shit out of me.

He won’t be doing that again though. Because I’m dead now.

Ted.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:41, 6 replies)

It must be love, love, love...
Oh so many.

Suggs – in a busy bar in Sheppard’s Bush. We find ourselves crammed next to each other as we queue for a pint. Now I’m a twat at the best of times. A twat with a penchant for ‘dad jokes’ so I say…

‘Cor it’s Madness in here innit?’

His reaction? He rolled his eyes and said ‘don’t give up the fuckin’ day job’ – but he said it with more venom, spite and anger than I thought my comment warranted.

I had the last laugh though. Whilst he got served before me, they had to change the barrel for his pint so I was able to pay and return to my friends and he was still waiting.

True fax!
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:38, 4 replies)

DJ Spoony
When I was at Uni, he played at our Ball. He only came on at about midnight, by which time everyone was lashed, or too busy trying to get off with each other to care. The dancefloor in the big marquee was a maelstrom of swirling, pissed dancers stumbling over dropped bottles in the middle, hedged with tables full off pissed students dribbling beer down their dinner jackets at the fringes.

He came on the mic after a couple of songs and said 'The next time you lot invite me to DJ, don't get so drunk you can't dance, alright?.

At which my mate stood up from his table, spilling a load of drinks in the process, and bellowed back:

'Next time we invite you to DJ, bring some decent records you cheeky cunt!'

Which elicited a huge cheer from everyone within hearing distance, and prevented Spoony from commenting again on our dancing.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:37, 1 reply)

I don't do celebebrities
In the Bridge Tavern in Portsmouth some years back I bumped into Jonathan Creek. I still don't know his real name and have no interest, but I just said, "Hi Jonathan" - well he was filming the blasted series there, anyway he looked at me daggers. I laughed at him and it made things worse. Prick.

The other one I've met who was really nice is Graham Kerr, the chef who had a half hour slot on a saturday night in the '70's as an Australian Chef. He was a good friend of my Dad and there was this boat launching in Poole where Sunseeker is now, I was on telly and all. Gosh his son Andrew was even nicer - and my age too, cor I could have had him but I was too young to make a move unfortunately. He came to stay with us and we used to play chess together. I was 13 or something and so was he. I heard recently he went round the world in that boat. Oh and the TV people, that Chris Peacock that used to present the news was there. Last I heard he was gay.

I'm still miffed about that Jonathan Creek though, how rude not even to smile.
( Tiggy the diver, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:35, 4 replies)

Before they were famous
It's amazing who you meet at uni. The stoners, the sports students, the media studies layabouts (of which I was one), the musicians, the singers, and a small blonde Welsh girl by the name of Aimee.

Aimee was a sweet little thing, who introduced herself to all and sundry by saying "I came third in Welsh Pop Idol!!". You could almost imagine the double exclamation marks clanging into place, such was the energy of the girl. And one evening, she went up on an open mic night down the student union and absolutely wowed us all. Shouts of "More!" were a common one that evening. And the stuff she got up to when stoned... well they don't bear re-telling here but they will always give me a grin. And then she dropped out of uni quite suddenly, and nothing more was heard of her.

Until, one day, I saw this person on TV, singing her heart out:


( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:31, 9 replies)

Wish I hadn't said it....
A few years ago I was at a rather posh do and the after dinner speaker was Mary Archer. We all thought her after dinner speech would never end so I got stuck into the red wine.

Fast forward an hour, the dinner (and thankfully speeches) are all over and everyone is milling around chatting, going home or doing their best not to fall over - as in my case.

So, I try and bend down to pick up my bag in the most delicate 'I've had farrr too much to drink and don't want my boobs to pop out' way possible and find that some fat arse croney has backed in to me and nearly sent me flying. My drunken inner sense of other people's bad manners led me to spin round to face said fat arse perpitraitor only to find myself very red faced and the words 'what the f*cking crabapples?!' dying on my lips as I am, of course, face to face with Jeffrey's better half.

She was really apologetic and I felt like a proper numpty... Soz Mary.
(Senora Veranos cannot and will not so ner..., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:29, Reply)

Rhodes
A few years ago we were going round schools looking for a suitable place in which to put eldest male bofkin for his secondary eduction.
The group of parents we were in included one celebrity chef.. Gary Rhodes.
Towards the end, I couldn't resist it...
Me : "Hi.. I just wanted to say how much I enjoy your programmes"
He : "That's very nice of you"
Me : "It's a pleasure to have met you, Ainsley"
He : "..........." (silence)

I still titter about it....
(bof, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:27, 3 replies)

That rude bitch
The rudest thing ever. Celebrities have no right to jump in line. Ok, this is what happened. We were all sledding not too long ago as you do in the winter. There weren't too many of us but we had to make our own sleds so there weren't too many. We were all waiting patiently for our turn when that rude Francesca Anobile cut me off in line. It serves her right she wrecked, it wasn't her turn!
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:24, 1 reply)

'Arold and Dennis
Yonks ago... when they were alive...
I told Harold Wilson to his face he was a cnut. (he was bloody ancient and doddery at the time)
and about a week or so later in the same place I told Dennis Thatcher he was a twat.

Oh... and that scally left wing little git.... emmm.. Derek something.. (google) Derek Hatton... I told him, as he was walking to the Law Courts in London, that he was a snivelling little shitbag... (mind you - I had to leg it pretty sharpish as his minders moved in. Fucking apes with blood on their knuckles from dragging them on the road behind them)
(bof, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:21, 2 replies)

Tails (chortle) of the Unexpected
That silly wet bird; I had her...once
(catflap I went out with Nicholas Parsons, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:19, Reply)

I got pissed with Keith Harris.
He made Orville and Cuddles swear.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:18, 3 replies)

Heh, a good question this.
As I have probably over-mentioned in the past, I was once lucky enough to meet and interview the great Douglas Adams before he died. But that isn't who this story is about.

In the summer, I work backstage at a small festival down in the Fens (Fordham Festival) and as such I get to meet a lot of the talent before they do on stage. Buster Bloodvessel of Bad Manners (thoroughly lovely chap) being one that sticks out in my mind. Aside from him, there are other people as well, such as Alabama 3- that is, the band who are chiefly known for doing the theme song to the Sopranos. Who are absolutely cracking live, I might add.

Of course, there are some problems with meeting bands backstage. Especially before they're about to perform. Larry Love, bless him, was incredibly nervous. So I decided to help him out with that little problem. Trouble was, I helped him a little bit too much. The poor man was so stoned he almost fell off the stage mid performance.

Oops.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:18, 7 replies)

International unfriendly.
Years ago, me and a couple of mates went to see England vs. USA at Wembley.

We got to our seats quite early so the place was relatively empty. Then, down by the touchline in front of us, we noticed a group of school kids being given a tour - and Alexi Lalas (see pic) came over from warming up to sign a few autographs.

"OI, ALEXI..." I shouted.

He looked up as my voice echoed around the stadium.

"...YOU'RE A CUNT!"

He looked away.


Alexi Lalas - A ginger bearded hippy-cunt Jesus.
( mr.dogshit The world's premier anthropomorphic canine faeces, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:13, 4 replies)

Dickworld
I'm going to get REAL on y'all now, and flip this QoTW. Flip it. For REAL.

Terry Pratchett was rude to me! Book signing in Waterstone's in Mighty Mighty Stockport, some 8-9 years ago. Getting Fifth Elephant and Carpe Jugulum signed.

I eventually get to the man himself, only an hour or so waiting involved. "What's your name then lad?" asked the bearded one, so I tells him. He signs the books, I say "Cheers Terry, keep up the good work!" and offer my hand in a respectful yet masculine manner for hearty hand shake, slap on the back and a "See yer later, the Beartown is on me!"

He looks at my hand like I had just finished fisting his daughters arse with it, looks at me like I'd just finished fisting his daughters arse and snaps "NO! I need all my strength to keep signing books!" Rude little cunt, I may have opined as much to his face, I can't recall… probably not but in my head I did.

I wouldn't have minded, but I saw him on that documentary on the BBC recently and he was shaking everyone's hand and posing for pictures. Pratchett, you are mean man. But I still loves yer books!
(The Boy Monders I have ginger bits in my beard., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:11, 12 replies)

True Story
A friend of mine works in an agency up london for quite well known actors and such.

This means he can give me juicy gossip and the latest news and i'll happily fill you in (quite at the back).

The reason why so many celebrities are boycotting facebook and twitter is not because they don't have the time or that they don't care.

It's because there's a disease going around that forces you to mash the keyboard with your hand everytime you ejaculatonk]erng]oneg]onme]nnpenmfie439h-jf3hr9-hnf1fn-[en[-emzn\~Nnrfzh
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:10, Reply)

I expect about 7 people who read this will have heard of Keith Caputo...
He's the singer from a metal band called Life of Agony (who I expect about 9 people will have heard of), but latterly has been forging a solo career playing much mellower stuff than his LoA days. His first solo album "Died Laughing" is my absolute number 1 favourite album of all time...

I saw him play in Amsterdam a couple of years ago, and was thrilled to discover that he was doing an after show signing session.

So, after the gig I made my way to the merch stall, and there he was, signing things and chatting to someone - presumably someone he knew well, judging from the tone of the conversation. I'd bought an EP before the gig, so I handed it to him and he signed it, then handed it back without breaking conversation. Undeterred, I stayed where I was (there weren't that many people there actually, I did mention that not many people have heard of him). When there came a break in the conversation I butted in and told him that Died Laughing was my favourite album ever, thanked him and shook his hand. We chatted for a while after that, and trying not to cross the line from starry-eyed fanboy to crazed stalker, I bade him farewell. We hugged as we parted though, and my girlfriend got a photo of it:

www.flickr.com/photos/kmlabs/2515464359/

Sadly, as I've mentioned on the description on flickr, it does look a bit like I've pounced on him and am refusing to let go... it was a genuine mutual hug though, honest! :D
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:09, 5 replies)

Before Top Gear was good...
I used to work for a large IT company, or subcontract out to it at least, and after a year of spreadsheet toiling gash, the prime contractor threw a big old party for all of us lucky employees (these were the heady days of IT, when people had budgets!)

It was a whole day of corporate-entertainment shenanigans, culminating in a fancy dinner with champagne reception at Madam Tussauds. It was debauched. A whole raft of engineers, sick of being over worked and grossly underpaid took it upon themselves to drink as much as humanly possible. These guys lugged servers and the likes around in their transits, and were very savvy people. Which made the job of the after dinner speaker that very much more interesting.

Enter Quentin Wilson, of Top Gear, now Fifth Gear fame. Full slick hair and smarm at the ready, his anecdotes about why a Jag E-Type has nothing on a...something or other, fell on deaf ears and shouts of "Yeah, but my transits better you wanker!" followed by much laughter.

As the dinner ended, Benjamin Franklin may have been defiled, a then current world leader may have been decapitated. As I stood out on the front carpet with my engineer colleagues awaiting our taxi, Wilson emerged, looking distinctly hurried, focused on his cigarette and getting out of there.

Full of a heady mix of champagne, red wine, over-priced Park Lane hotel beer, I summoned up the most awesome cutting remark I could make against this man, to slay my colleagues and to leave the smarm-master on his way:

"Oi, Quint.......TWAT!!!!"

Best I could do. An engineer licked my face as a gesture of appreciation for my efforts, badly executed as they were. I had alcohol poisoning the next day.

(pop)
(tittybumwhizz funced by lung butter, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:08, Reply)

I saw John Leslie being rude with Annabel Giles
The two were up on Calton Hill (here in Edinburgh) many years ago (before Leslie's shenanigans), filming some cheesy treasure-hunting gameshow (so obscure it's not even listed on IMDB). I said hi and asked if I could take some photos for the student newspaper. They said sure, and posed by one of the rangerovers. As Ms Giles bent over the front of the vehicle, Leslie went behind her and pretended to hump her, doggy-style.

My greatest regret to this day is not being fast enough with the camera to have captured that moment.

Length? Just ask Catherine Zeta-Jones...
( Tribs 🦇 ↓ dn ʎɐʍ sᴉɥʇ ↓🦇, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:07, 3 replies)

"Fuck off granddad"
A guy I used to work with lived directly opposite the 60's musician 'Chip' Hawkes, who you might know better as the dad of a certain, one-and-only, Chesney Hawkes. Back around the time that Ches had his massive hit, the whole street where he lived would be blocked up by wannabe 14-18 year old girls all trying to catch a glimpse of the one-hit-wonder.

A few months later, after the chaos had died down, one of the elderly neighbours told Chip this amusing story; At the height of ches-mania, a younger relative came to visit and was amazed by the crowds, so wound his car window down and asked a cluster of girls what the excitement was all about, to be greeted with the braying refrain - "FUCK OFF GRANDDAD".

The granddad in question being a certain Sir Elton John.
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:06, 2 replies)

Mistaken Identity
Not me but a friend who is a Street Warden (Kind of low level police with no powers) was called to a central London coffee to deal with some suspected crack dealers (I shit you not). When he and his partner entered said dirty brown water establishment his parter immediately pulled a guy out of the queue going "I know your face" and basically doing his best to try and intimidate the guy (Bear in mind street wardens are armed with little more than harsh language) once he figured he'd got his suspected crack dealer suitably intimidate he gets his note book out and goes into the usual routine

Name?

Kevin

(Sounding peeved) Last name?

Spacey

At this point my mate literally wet him self laughing and had to escort his very embarrassed colleague out of the building

*edit* he was kicking himself later when he realised he could have made a quip about The Usual Suspects :)
( Big Ian has stopped changing his sig, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:06, 1 reply)

Annie Lennox
I was in Heathrow airport, T5 to be be exact, earlier this year and saw Annie Lennox.

Our eyes met, instant recognition and didnt she know it. Instantly I'm thinking icon, beautiful lady, beautiful voice, AIDS awareness, it's Annie Lennox, it's Annie Fu*king Lennox. She knew I was looking at her, she was careering towards me hand slightly outstreched, she could see I had a pen in my hand and thought I wanted an autograph.

I turned to the taxi driver I was waiting with, her just a few feet away and quietly said look there's Annie Lennox. His loud reply was who? I spout FROM THE FU@KING EURYTHMICS. She heard this and pretended to be distracted by child. So, no autograph for me.
(Free pens 100, 101, 102 is still counting on, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 15:05, 2 replies)

I got stoned with Graham Chapman
Appropriate really, with the Python's 40th anniversary an' all. My very best mate's uncle was the late Graham Chapman. I met him a few times but this was undoubtedly the best. It was 1984. He was guest of honour at a small restaurant party to celebrate my mate's 21st Birthday. After it all finished were going back to his Mum & Dad's place but as Graham had driven straight there from London he didn't know the way. "I'll navigate!" I practically screamed. Another mate also blagged a seat too & 10 minutes later there we were being driven through the Northamptonshire countryside by Graham Chapman in his Aston Martin. I took out all the bits to begin skinning up & he reached over & opened the glove compartment. "Easier on there, I think" he said. Perfect - a lovely little walnut table with an inlaid mirror. (It would have been perfect for a different kind of narcotic, shame we didn't have any. I think Aston really knew their market in those days!) Not only that but he produced a ready rolled spliff from his pocket & invited me to spark it up while I was rolling. I was happier than a pig in shit. Getting stoned with one of my all-time heroes in an Aston Martin.

Sadly, of course, only five & a half years later the man was dead. So it goes...

No beans to spill really, just a really nice memory of a really nice man.
( Dunks, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:58, 3 replies)

Not me but a work colleague
We were all at a videogames conference and for reasons that are lost in the mists of time, Jo Guest was there. Anyway he walked over to her and enquired,

"Excuse me, can I smell your bacon?"

To be honest I think she was less offended than perplexed.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:53, 2 replies)

Bill Oddie
I think this is a pearoast, but i sacred Bill Oddie.

He was our after dinner speaker at a conference, and he stayed for some beers and stuff.

I had been maxing it large in a student bar on Vodka Red Bull and free wine and decided that Bill needed my advice.

I stumbled over, towered about 18 inches above him and stooped as i swung my glass at his fuzzy face (and wine glass) and managed a "youareabloodygoodbloke" #chink# as i gently tapped glasses in a high five style.

When i awoke, i had memories of scaring the living shite out of a dwarf wookiee looking fella.

Rude - i didn't think so. Probably contributed to his current issues.

God Bless you Oddie, and all that have flown over you.
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:44, 3 replies)

Rachel Stevens
In a restaurant in Notting Hill a few years back. She is the size of a 10 year old child, and was caked in makeup.

I pointed out to my fellow diners that, shocked as I was by the admission, I genuinely didn't think I "would".

I think she heard me, as she gave me the evils and said something to the bloke she was with, who then also gave me a look.

As we left, someone snapped a pic of her through the window with their camera to try and get £25 from Heat.

If its any consolation, Rachel, I definitely would have, I was just being hyperbolic.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:41, Reply)

How to be smooth and urbane in front of a lady with incredibly nice tits
Went to see Silverchair down at Brixton Academy with my mate Eric a couple of years back. We get in, sink some beers, drink some more beers, drink a few more after that – you know the drill.

Then we go and find a nice spot to listen to the band. I’m all up for going down to the front, throwing some shapes, feeling some arses (the law of averages says a few of these arses would belong to a female of some description, but - thinking about it - when I’m drunk I’m not really that fussy), but Eric’s a bit of a music buff. He likes to hear the band properly. So we end up standing next to the little pit area with all the computers and the geezer with the cans on his head, twiddling all the little buttons. Apparently, according to Eric, this is the best place to stand if you want the perfect stereo blah-blah-blah-bollocks-etc-etc-etc.

I was interested in something else. I was interested in the incredibly beautiful lady stood next to the little bank of monitors and knobs – it was the Silverchair lead singer’s Mrs. It was that Natalie Im-something-or-other.

I turn to my mate Eric, suddenly excited. I smack him on the arm, point at this vision of Antipodean loveliness and shout: “Look its Natalie Imru-, Natalie Imbrug-, Natalie Imbrururu-, IT’S THAT BIRD OUT OF NEIGHBOURS WITH THE PERFECT TITS !!!”

I felt a tap on my arm: “I’m stood right next to you,” said the bird out of Neighbours with the perfect tits.

Eric and I gave out a little yelp and ran off, what with us being manly, butch, men type men...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:39, 3 replies)

I met Billie Piper once when she was 17.
Cute little thing she was, with her slightly goofy smile and her bodyguard stood discretely a few feet away.
I was only a shy little 18 year old at the time, so I was blown away when she came straight over and started talking to me.
Then I asked her for ID, and refused to serve her.
Cheeky cow. I wasn't gonna break the law for her just cos she was all famous and sexy and stuff.
Pfft.
(Paolo Nutini's Bikini Better than Frederick Fleet's optometrist, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:38, Reply)

I personally CANNOT wait
To hear about that time JMG stuck it to Mr T in the playground.

*waits*
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:37, 9 replies)

I've never directly been rude to a celebrity, may be just mildly annoying...
I popped into a Marks and Sparks during a lunch break some years ago... I was in a bit of a rush, so as I was heading towards the queue to the cash registers, I sort of dashed in front of the two guys who were about to join the aforementioned queue... After I payed, I turned around to see one of the two guys behind me was in fact Goldie (this one en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goldie). He gave me a bit of an evil look, and that was that.

Speaking of evil looks, next to my office there is a tv production company. Outside one day, was Simon Amstell. I glared at him as I walked past, he stopped his conversation with whoever it was and glared back. A very odd moment, that.

Now back when I was still in uni, I had to pop over to Kew Gardens. One of my mates agreed to come with me whilst I gathered info for a project. There seemed to be heightened security and more and more journalists appearing during the time I was walking around - somehting was happening...

We were walking back to the Palm House, when up ahead were a large group of journalists and photographers walking up the path. Both of us decided to not jump out of the way, and simply carried on walking thought the mass of press types. I suddenly stopped, as soon as they had passed us, turned to my mate and said:
"holy shit, did you see who that was?"
"Yeah! THAT WAS JOHN LENNON!" was his reply in a very loud voice.
It was, in fact, Paul McCartney and Heather Mills. I never discovered if they heard my good friend's proclamation...
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:36, 5 replies)

I've been waiting to tell this one:
I had a fairly relaxing summer this year after just having completed my first year of university and this, naturally, involved a fair bit of drinking, so when I saw a sign for a beer festival fairly nearby I jumped on my bike and cycled the four miles or so to get there. I arrived at a large pub in a small village to the sounds of live music from a marquee out back. I strolled around, had a pint, chatted to the rather attractive barmaid, then settled down to watch the band. They played all the old rock classics - smoke on the water, purple haze and so on. I was amazed, at the time, at how professional they seemed. Not the sort of people who I thought would be playing to an audience of less than a hundred people in the middle of nowhere. I mentioned this to the barmaid, and got an unexpected reply:

"Yeah, they should be good. The bassist is from (insert hugely famous rock group here), the drummer is from status quo, and the guitarist and lead singer is from Iron Maiden".

It turned out that they all lived locally and had formed an informal little band to keep themselves occupied when they weren't busy touring or recording.

That day will go down in my memory as one of the best days of my life - limitless cheap beer, a few friends with me, a glorius summer's day, an attractive barmaid and a rock supergroup playing not twenty feet away.



P.S. I've deliberately left out the details and band name - I doubt the musicians involved would appreciate it being spread about too much - but if you want to know, gaz me and I'll drop a few hints.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 14:36, 5 replies)