Hmmm Miss Jones

Back in the mid nineties, I hit the grand old age of 21.
As tradition would have it, an all day drinking session was called for and so after many hours of severe alcohol abuse, I found myself in a bar near the Leeds City Varieties (theatre/music hall).

I'm guessing Frances de la Tour (of Rising Damp fame) was starring at the previously mentioned theatre, as at the other end of the bar she stood. Enjoying a quiet post performance drink, with a sophisticated group of theatre types and hangers on.

I on the other hand was having a not so quiet drink with very much unsophisticated group of reprobates!

"Hmmm Miss Jones" says I, in a truly terrible Rigsby impression.
More Rigsby lines followed as I walked towards her, I somehow convinced myself that she would be amused by this.

Reports from friends convey that at some stage in the 20 or so feet that I walked between us, I managed to change my impression (confusingly) in to Fletcher from porridge - I'm guessing I was confused about Richard Beckinsale appearing in both shows.

Eventually my impression/stager made its way to Ruth.
I took a final step, repeated "Miss Jones", tripped, fell forwards, landing face first in her cleavage.

I snuggled in their warm embrace for a mere second but it felt far, far longer.

"Well really" she exclaimed in a rather posh voice.

I staggered back, grinning like a mong. Stumbled again and knocked myself out on a bar stool.

Never even got to ask for an autograph.

**POP**
(Werewolf? There Wolf!, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 0:11, 7 replies)

Darren Shan
Apparently he is (or was at the time in 2003) the biggest selling children's author after JK Rowling.

My brother was teaching English in Japan at the time, and the kids there seemed to like his stories so he asked me to go to Waterstone's in Edinburgh to get a copy of his latest book at a signing.

I was stuck in a queue for 2 hours, with lots of enthusiastic kids, teens, mums and dads all dripping sycophancy over him. Oh Darren! You're So Great! We Love Your Work!

He looked smug. His entourage looked bored.

His entourage, however, started sniggering when it was my turn. I started with "I have no idea who you are, and I've never read your books, and I'm only here as a favour to my brother..."
( drunkenoaf, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 23:05, Reply)

The Sith from the Shit one
Those of you fortunate enough to have experienced the concrete roundabout emporium of Milton Keynes nay know that the shopping centre there is host to an annual sci fi convention (stars tend to range from the recognisable to the unknown). At any rate, Ex was a massive Star Wars fan, even by internet standards, so off to gawp we go. And about half way through the day, Ex decides to get Ray Park's autograph. For those of you who've managed to block out the Phantom Menace, he's the one in all the red and black face paint.

Given that I'm basically Tim Bisley when it comes to George Lucas opinions, I wasn't that into meeting him. However, there was something just spellbinding about Ray. Captivating. Shiny. Something truly, I don't know, Hollywood about him. So when the Ex had got his autograph and got his few minutes of banter, Ray turned to me and asked what I thought of Star Wars. Unfortunately, I was only able to say one thing:

'You... have... AMAZING teeth.'

Yes, folks. I've made a Sith Lord back away nervously.
(That's Just Not Funny, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 23:01, 2 replies)

A while back,
I was in the local British pub having a full English, when two English women came in and sat down at the bar.
Struck up a conversation and we were talking merrily - they were out here on business. I asked them what work they did and they told me they cleaned houses.

Last week I saw for the first time on BBC America a tv show called "How Clean Is Your House - US".....it was Kim and Aggie!

Oh, but I didn't insult them or anything. They were actually really nice!
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:58, 1 reply)

This is why there needs to be an anonymous QOTW submission ability on b3ta
My good stories would lose me my job :(
( Peregr1n @peregr1n, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:51, 4 replies)

!!!!
Someone told me I assaulted Phil Gayle in a bar but i never.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:48, Reply)

Does...
....Alex Salmond, First Minister of Scotland count?

I had to spend time in a hotel room with him once. He grunts and snorts when he laughs.

Most uncooth.
(El Fandango carved a big EF onto his nemesis' doublet on .., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:20, 1 reply)

A deliberate loud and smelly fart
I let one go while the president of Portugal was right beside me backstage.

He wrinkled his nose in disapproval.
(roysin, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:12, Reply)

I see famous people
I used to work near Granada studios, and so celebreties were two a penny. But I only see people in queues. I have queued up behind:

- Judy Finnegan in an off license
- Emily Bishop (Corrie) in Kendals
- David Hassleoff in a bakers
- Barry Grant (Brookside) in the GPO Club

Remember that ginger lesbian in Brookside? I touched her bum with my cock (through clothes, and in a queue, but still counts!)
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:11, 2 replies)

Two from me....
Many years ago when I was a BT cable monkey,I nearly ran Judith Chalmers (she of the well worn passport and leathery skin) over,as she was attempting to cross the road in Soho Sq. I can only think that she must have just returned from one of her foreign jaunts ,as she was looking the wrong way when she stepped off the pavement......Didn't stop her calling me a stupid blind cunt though.

My second celebrity potty mouth encounter was with that denizen of gritty British kitchen sink drama Timothy Spall, around the time auf wiedersehen pet was all over the telly I bumped into him outside our office in London Bridge St. I said sorry Barry in my (in my mind) most realistic brummie accent, to be greeted with 'Oh do fuck off you dickhead' ..in his best Cockerneee..
( bane, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 22:03, Reply)

Temp
She was Gorgeous. With the capital G.

It'd been a few months after splitting up with the Smurfette and no woman had yet managed to heal, arouse or even interest my heart. Melancholy nowhere near describes how I felt.

And then I met Temp.

She was beautiful in the girl next door way. Glasses, very little makeup, blond hair pushed up in a ponytail as if she'd rushed to get ready for her first day as a temp at my place of work.

She had that natural look that you knew, should she decide to put on make-up and do her hair, would stun every man who caught sight of her.

I first met her in the company carpark. She couldn't work out how to get in to the building. To be fair, it is a very strange building and not easy to find the entrance to from the carpark. She asked me if she could walk with me and of course I obliged. I can't remember the conversation exactly, but I'm sure it was something along the lines of "Don't worry, I couldn't find my way in on my first day either. So what do you do here? I'm just temping" etc etc.

After that I never really managed to talk to her again. We were on different floors and I was full time and she was a temp. But we always arrived at work within a few minutes of each other. Either I would be walking in to the building as she drove in to the carpark, or visa versa. Or we would pass each other on the way to the canteen going opposite directions. Either way we would give each other a smile and wave or a "Hiya". She had the most beautiful smile. I longed to spend some more time with her.

And then the rumors started. "You know Temp from the second floor? Well she's the girlfriend of the organist from a well known pop band" (Sounds like 'The NME'.) As it turns out it was true. I knew my hopes were dashed. The only way I could compete was that I had played guitar in a heavy metal band at college many years before. So no competition at all really.

But then I had my chance!

We arrived at the same lift at the same time. Just the two of us. She gave me her lovely smile and said "Hi, how are you. I'm sorry we haven't had chance to speak to each other more". I'm pretty sure I said "Shmurglepurgleurgle".

But as we descended in the lift I found my tongue. "So, rumor has it you're dating one of the members of ". "Yes" she said "Do you like them"?

"No". I replied. "I think they're a bunch of tossers with stupid haircuts that make shit music that sounds like pretty much every other indie band and wouldn't be famous if it wasn't for the shit state of todays music industry i.e. that you don't actually have to produce good music just mindless wank that bland office workers or students enjoy because they think they're being 'rock', 'alternative', 'rebellious' and 'different' by listening to it, which pretty much sums up Glastonbury nowadays".

Things were awkward after that, but she did have a beautiful smile.

This is awfully true.
(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:41, 4 replies)

Anyone heard of Paul Cook?
Neither had I, but it turned out he was the drummer from Sade. Along with a mutual friend we were going to set up a website which was going to be a showcase for talent scouts who would go on the site and listen to stuff posted by unsigned bands. We registered as a limited company and developed the business plan further.

But then he got a bit snotty because I hadn't built the website. Which was bollocks, I had a rough template and a skeletal database but I'd had no feedback from him or any whiff of content standards to work around.

In the end I sacked it off and I was told by my mate that the company (as much as it was) was dissolved within a couple of days after.

I did take pleasure in the fact that I had trod dog-shit into his hallway, which I had hidden by shifting the rug in the hallway.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:40, Reply)

The way it really went down...
"Hey Sue!" laughed Paul, "Some nitwit's put two dunnies in!" he chuckled. Sue sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, One dunnie.... one b'day... it's for..." embarrassment washed over her.
Paul could feel the rage building within him.
He'd felt this before, but never over a woman.
The thought of chopping Sue neatly into stacks raced through his mind as he stood heaving in the sunlight, his massive fists clenched by his sturdy hips.

"Oh, you figure it out." Sue spat dismissively, still smiling from pretty ear to ear.
Paul grimaced and ground his teeth, it would take all his efforts to stop himself lamping the bitch, yet, somehow he managed.
Sue popped a mint into her mouth and breezed out the door with a wave.
Paul felt the anger within his tormented soul, slowly calming.

He sat on the bed and tore off one of his mock alligator skin boots and threw it into the hat stand with a thud.
He stumbled into the bathroom, past the b'day and stared into the mirror.
"Are you just gonna let that fucking sheila bitch speak to you like that mate? after you saved her fucking life at the creek? nah. someone's gonna fucking pay! SOMEONE'S GONNA FUCKING PAY!!"
Paul dashed to the window and opened the sash, he peered out onto the bright Manhattan street below.

The driver was just opening the door for Sue.
Paul couldn't help himself.
"SUE!" he screamed.
Sue looked up expectantly and smiled.

"FOR WASHING YOUR BACKSIDE, RIGHT?" Paul bellowed into the street creating quite a scene.
Sue smiled and jumped into her limo.
She never knew how close she came to the sweet goodnight.
Paul thumped himself in the crotch.
Paul's bulbous groin was a mottled cauldron of wriggling ticks.
(jindodsdadsdogsdead I am not stusut79, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:28, 2 replies)

At about the time Take That were just getting famous
Mr Bin's friend met Robbie Williams of the platform of Stoke train station.

So he punched Williams in the face.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:22, 3 replies)

A Cheeky Pea

The small town I currently reside in is also the home of Sir Bob Gelfof. Now, Sir Bob has lived here long enough that most local people are aware he is around and pay little or no attention to him. He gets no special treatment about the town, and has to queue up for his shopping in tesco just like everyone else.

Just after I finished school, my first job was pulling pints in a pub which was great fun, Sir Bob used to use this pub as his local as it is walking distance from his house. One evening as were just calling time and the punters were thinking about making their way home, Sir Bob sidles over and asks for a final pint for the night. No problem, pour his drink and place it down on the bar.

For some reason, to this day still unknown to me, rather than say 'that is £2.50 please' I just said in a slightly pleading voice and a not very convincing Irish accent "Give us your fockin' money!" The world stood still, I realized the gravity of what I had just said. I had just mocked one of the most famous charity fundraisers in the world. Luckily Bob cracked up and asked my name. We had a chat at the bar for a bit and after I finished my shift he invited me over for a couple of post shift beers.

We chatted about all sorts of stuff, including how I didn't really like the Boomtown Rats, thought Bono was a bit of a twat but how I am totally obsessed with Pink Floyd's 'The Wall' in which Geldof had a major part. I came in for a shift later on that week only to find a copy of 'The Wall' behind the bar signed by Geldof with the inscription 'Anthropos, I gave you my fucking money!'

Sadly a horrid pikey housemate stole my DVD and probably sold it. On the upside I still see Bob about town, he always says hi and remembers my name.
( Anthropos Was making beer on, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:20, 8 replies)

A sysop
I knew who used to run a Viewdata BBS in the early 90s used to run a gay club in London in the early 80s and he claims he had a one night stand with Bryan Ferry.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:14, 1 reply)

Jeremy Clarkson stayed at the hotel I worked at
and was a complete tit. Apart from speaking down to the staff and clicking his fingers for service at the bar he wound all the staff up that day including me but somebody I worked with decided to find his place sitting for evening dining and started to rub all the cutlery Jeremy would be using up and down his sweaty ass crack. Later on a load of us decided to watch him eating while smirking.
(Fluffster, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:12, 4 replies)

Wales! Sports! Action!
I've just returned from a conference in Wales and stayed at a very posh hotel while there. While wandering around stealing the freebies and hitting on the female staff I came to notice that there were a number of press conferences happening. Turns out that the hotel's gym and training facilities are used by the Welsh Rugby Team, the national football team and the Cardiff Blues.

Cool thinks I, what famous person will I meet? Who will I get to be my special face book friend? Maybe I can share a beer with Gatland and tell him why the Boks are just better.

Anyway, the only mildly famous person I recognised is that short cunt Craig Bellamy. He had a fucking minder with him when he went to the bar and he parked his Audi in the mother/baby spot.


Cunt.

Oh I did once meet Jack Osbourne at a climbing festival and tell him he looked like a paedo...
( zulu eh?, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 21:10, 3 replies)

In Victoria Station a few months back...
Had just met up a friend who also happens to be on b3ta, and shall remain nameless (although let's just say that his name ends in "halaa" and starts with "moo"). and we were standing in line at the W.H. Smith's. He was loudly and somewhat profanely critiquing my choice of clothes for the day, which included a waistcoat (and to be honest did look bloody stupid), when I hear a man say "Nice waistcoat."
"Thanks" I say, and look up to find that it is in fact Bill Nighy, standing further along in line with a newspaper folded under his arm. I do a double take, while my friend is entirely unfazed. "Yeah, it's very nice." he continues, and then turns to look at my friend wearing a bright neon green shirt and says "Not sure about your shirt, though. It's a bit garish."

I was incredibly pleased, and spent much of the remainder of the day informing him he'd been "pwned by Bill Nighy." Then he twatted me around the head.

Was a good day.
(The Artist Formerly Known As &c You can order curries ONLINE these days., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 20:37, 4 replies)

Another Bond, James Bond story
This story my ex wife told me back in the days when we were both happily in love and before she turned into a deranged harpy.

Ex wife worked (and probably still does, I have no idea) in a book shop in london frequented by lots of famous people.

Most of them are nice and normal and don't make wankers of themselves.

A certain crap ex James Bond however seemed to enjoy being noticed.

He wandered about the whole of the shop making sure everyone noticed him, and just in case they didn't he had the habit of shouting 'Hello, Pierce here' when his phone rang.

Ex wifey wasn't that impressed but let him carry on drawing attention to himself.

Eventually his partner had decided on the books they wanted and they wandered over to her counter, Pierce is busy grinning and winking in the hope someone will approach him and tell him he was a better Bond than Timothy Dalton. Ex wife didn't bite.

He got out his platinum forged credit card with a flourish and beamed an almighty grin at ex wife who without batting an eyelid, asked him if he had any other identification.

I am still secretly proud of her for doing that.
(bluetuba has a special friend in Blue Label Smirnoff, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 20:23, 1 reply)

Not long ago...
I was walking past a theatre somewhere in the west end and who should roll down the red carpet? Non other than the queen and Prince "Do you still chuck spears" Phillip. Somehow, without wanton desire I had become part of a throng of delirious royal disciples. As they climbed into their Rolls Royce and drove off into the night they gave a Royal wave to the assembled mass. I didn't wave back. I scoffed at my garish insolence and dissolved into the night faster than a shit eating amoeba on the festering arsehole of a mildly autistic rhesus monkey.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 20:11, Reply)

Rickkkkkyyyyy!
Picture the scene:

10pm-ish, Maggies Beach House (hostel), Magnetic Island, Australia. Year? 2000.

I was getting nicely spannered with some new friends who tonight mostly resembled a tranny version of The Pussycat Dolls, as that night was cross-dressing night. And although I am comfortable with my sexuality I did not feel it necessary to dress like a twat.
Anyway, the crowd parts and Mr Sid Owen (Ricky Butcher from eastenders fyi) walks into the hostel with a most delectable blonde on his arm. Takes a seat and proceeds to get bladdered with the rest of us.
Now, he was sitting amongst a mixture of nationalities the majority of whom were British. So we all knew who he was and were quite excited to have a celebrity among us. Especially as he was happily chatting with us all like a normal member of society.
The Americans did not have a fucking clue who he was.
He decided he needed a drink and got up to from the table to go to the bar and accidentally nudged an American female and her drink. She wasn't very impressed and hurled a tirade of abuse at him which culminated with him advising her that she was a "Cunt" of the highest order and can fuck off. This made me giggle like a loon so I was told to "shut the fuck up" by said American. Charming.
Later I met him at the bar and brought up the episode. He was like, "Oh that fucking cunt? Yeah what a bitch. Fucking cunt. So how long you been travelling?"
With that he bought me a pint and we had a little chat and off he went.

Now I did mention that this was cross-dressing night. One of my travelling buddys, Tom, was done up to the nines with a nice glittery dress and high heels, tights, water-filled condom tits, the lot. All the 'ladies' were called up to the mic to introduce themselves and say a little about themselves. Can you see where this is heading yet?
Tom goes up:

"Yeah, my names Bianca and I'm here with me boyfriend *points at Sid* Riiiiiccccckkkkkaaaaaaayy!!!!!"

Sid stood up, pointed right at him and shouted, "Fuck you you fucking wanker cunt".

And that is my story. Lurked for about 5 years.

Bye-bye B3ta cherry.
(Erasmusmicroman is inside your T.V., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 20:10, 1 reply)

Close encounters of the bored kind...
My celebrity claim-to-fame is that I once had a pizza with Kylie Minogue. Yeah.. touch me...

The family and I were having a pizza in central London, many moons ago, roughly at the time when Kylie was making the transition between soap actress in 'neighbours' and international pop super-stardom. The lovely Kylie happened to be sharing a quiet meal with her then-bloke Jason Donovan (Incidentally, according to Wikipedia, this dates the encounter fairly accurately), in the next booth over.

My brother and I noticed this magical turn of events, and began turning around in our seats excitedly, before proceeding to turn around fully and to kneel up against the side of the booth, in order to strike up a conversation.*

Our witty opening gambit was something along the lines of "hey, you're the actress who plays Charlene in 'neighbours'". Quite the conversationalist, if I do say so myself. It did its job, however, and Kylie proceeded to have a lovely chat with us both. Apparently she was taken with the fact that we were able to separate the concepts of Charlene the character from Kylie the actress. This put us several steps in front of most of the whooping mongoloids that had introduced themselves thus far in her career. (My words, not hers... probably... most of this tale is half-remembered, and details filled in by Mum somewhat more recently)

Ah... lovely, lovely Kylie. If only I had been fourteen or fifteen years older, things could have been so very different...

And what of the other protagonist in this story? The delightful Jason Donovan? Well, according to my Mum, he was a world-class bellend. Rude, surly, clearly bored by the whole exchange, and unwilling to say more than 2 words to us. In short, a complete bollock.

And that was my best ever celebrity encounter.

*It is worth noting at this juncture that my brother and I were aged about 4 at the time, and as such this behaviour was par for the course, rather than us being about our 20's, and gibbering simpletons.
(Serotonicity was a naughty boy on..., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 19:55, Reply)

The Futons
One friday night in 2006 I was out on the piss with some lads in Liverpool, when we encountered Dave McCabe from the Zutons.

He was out in an Indyish bar (Heebeejeebees) and seemed to be getting quite a bit of attention from the ladies. I was in an inebriated enough condition to think it a good idea to stumble over to him and confirm that he was in fact "Dave from the Zutons", I received a snarled "No, Fuck off!" for my (politish) enquiries.

I reported back to the lads and we felt indignant about my snub.

More drinking ensued and I recall we chatted to Dave's brother who seemed like quite a nice fellow.

Then we saw Dave and his small entourage making a beeline for the door, seizing his chance the mouthiest member of our group started to heckle;
"Oi Dave!"
"Fuck off" Dave growled without breaking his step.
"I've got a band too" (this was untrue)
"Fuck off"
"We're called the Futons!"
"Fuck off" (The eloquent Dave still walking).
"We're from Sweden!"
Dave stopped in his tracks...turned (this is when someone gets punched I thought to myself), he cracked a grin said "that's actually funny" and shook my mate by the hand. Then he left.
(Calfderno, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 19:53, 4 replies)

In a Jacuzzi no less...
Many moons ago I was fortunate enough to spend two weeks in a rather splendid hotel in Banff (Canada not Scotland) and was sat in the outdoor hottub when I looked across to see none other than curly hair transporter scamp and poor man's Scotty, Colm Meany (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000538/).

I was literally just about to ask if he was who I thought he was, and he knew it, as soon as I opened my mouth speak he gave me a look of utter disgust and snapped 'Yes, I'm an actor for fucks sake', in a ridiculous thespian voice. Bearing in mind I was 13ish at the time was rather cuntish of him.

Luckily a woman in our party was in the hot tub with her son and gave out the fastest, and probably most cutting response I have ever heard.

"Standing in the background on star trek does not make you an actor you obnoxious cunt'

He looked extremely embarrassed, and well he should the rude arrogant turd.
( evilamnesiac says fuck you Prince, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 19:19, 1 reply)

Farkley Sharkley
As some of you know, my dad runs a pub where we put quite a bit of live music on. One of the local MPs comes up here on quite a few Friday nights, having been introduced to it by my mum's best friend, who works for him (this isn't who this is about, but he is a very nice bloke and completely at odds with what the media would have you believe).

Anyways, a few months ago, Feargal Sharkey (of Undertones fame) was up in my neck of the woods opening a new community recording studio along with our MP mate. Feargal asks if there's anywhere good to go, and so they end up at our place.

I of course, got about 15 excited phone calls and so, got me glad rags on and went up to meet the legend. I got there, and he's hanging round with my mum and her mate listening to the music, so I went up, had a chat and ended up staying with them talking to my mum, whilst he spent the whole time trying to look down my top. I think my mum even has a pic of it somewhere, which I will post if I can get it.

But he did buy me a drink and lend me a fag when I couldn't find mine. Which was nice.

**EDIT - picture in comments if I can make it work**
(BelladonnaAnodyne Melissa's gonna wet herself, I swear..., Thu 8 Oct 2009, 19:14, 4 replies)

My mate has an Evening Standard pitch...
I occasionally helped him out on my way home while he went for a piss/couple of pints.

I have therefore sold Evening Standards to Ronnie Corbett (FUCKING short in real life) and Billy Connolly (when he dyed his beard purple for the Lottery advert)
( Sallyrsm, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 18:47, Reply)

This is probably a pearoast, but my brain is addled....
Sir Roger Moore used to be (probably still is) a client of the bank I used to work for and only liked brand new £50's.

He was utterly charming, nay suave, whenever he came in, and despite being well old, having skin the colour and texture of an old leather briefcase, and not even being my second favourite Bond any more, used to make me ever such a little bit moist. The voice, you know.

He signed a photo of himself for my old dear. To Lorna, with love.
She framed it, bless her.

Speaking of my Mum, once years ago (I don't think I was even born so about 39 years) she and my Dad were stationed in Cyprus and at a function she was introduced to Gareth Edwards, the international rugby player. Being as sportingly clueless as a newly-landed ET, she didn't miss a beat before asking him "and are you in the RAF"?
( Sallyrsm, Thu 8 Oct 2009, 18:44, Reply)