I met Dominic Diamond
It was the time I went to be in the audience of Gamesmaster and ended up being in the show but that's another QOTW.

This story is about me meeeting DD.

So, my mum and I were standing with a small crowd outside an abondoned gasworks waiting to be allowed in to start filming Gamesmaster. While we waited there was some traffic of peopel coming in and out of said building. I noticed a gorup of people come in, mainly because I recognised that bandanna wearing guy adn some of the other guests to the show, in the middle there was one scruffy, torn jean, leather jacket wearing chap that was familiar but I didn;t recognise. I thought nothing of it.

When we were finaly allowed in the crowd was so small that we were allowed to wander around a little bit. I walked around the walkway until I found myself standing directly above the "stage" where the show was shot, dircetly below me was the scruffy bloke I had seen earlier, just wandering around Dominics domain muttering to himself. Now, athte time, I was recovering a bit from a cold and had some lung butter sliding down my throat in an uncomftable way. I did what any kid would do and noisly snorted it up into my mouth to (disgustingly) swallow it and get rid of it.

So, while I'm standing there, above the GM floor, clearing my throat, the dirty metaler looks up: "Don't you fcuking dare." growls Dominic Diamond.
/flee

I made DD think I was going to gob on him.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 10:03, 2 replies)

Eastenders
The bloke who plays Phill Mitchell in Eastenders (whose name I can't be arsed to look up) was in Hull a good few years ago to reopen the newly refurbished Kwik Save store in a shopping centre on the local far from salubrious housing estate.

I was on my way to the post office and as I passed the throng I stopped. I called over "Glad you coud come, this'll look great on your CV". The look he gave me was one of "have I really been reduced to this" dawning on him.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:48, 4 replies)

It was really weird when I found out John Lennon had put his cock in the very same oozing vertical bacon slash
where my very own cock was poking away heroically twenty-odd years later. It was like we were sperm brothers, so something.

Apparently my mum used to be a bit of a hardcore Beatles groopie in her younger days...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:43, 3 replies)

Prince Naseem Hamed & the squashed toes
Back in the hazy days of the mid nineties my uni chums and I made a day pilgrimage to Alton Towers. Like many pisshead students I was fairly oblivious to the world outside my own little circle of influence. Luckily for the sake of this anecdote my flatmates were not so ignorant.

We queued for the cable car to take us accross the park. Now those who've been to Alton Towers may well know the cable car has a slight quirk, that it never stops. So once it arrives at the station there is only a limited window of opportunity for the previous occupants to get out and for you to get in before the doors close. Our group was large so getting through the doors in time was gonna be tight....

...a time constraint made worse by some short bling bling twat sauntering out of the cable car like the world will wait for him with some dolly on his arm sporting her labels like she's on a catwalk.

So I did what any irritated student might do. I said "Oh hurry up you twat!", pushed past him and accidentally stepped on his toes as I did it.

We all piled into the cable car and things were eerily quiet. My flatmates were all looking at me like I'd just come of the closet or something. "What?" I said looking back.

"Err... do you know who that was?" I was asked.
"Who? The twat in the way?"
"Yeah"
"No, who?"
"That was Prince Naseem Hamed...."
"Never heard of him" says I.
"The boxer... big fight last Saturday. Remember?"

I didn't remember, my trip to the pub was for cider, whatever sport was on the telly was of no consequence to me.

So somehow I called a world title boxer a twat, stepped on his toes and got away with it through ignorance ;-)
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:41, 1 reply)

I (literally) bumped into this guy in a green jacket
...as I was walking out of Blockbuster in Slough.

It was only after I was out on the street and saw the cars with the blacked-out windows that I looked back and realised it was Prince William. Oh, and I'd been between him and his bodyguard.

To this day I'm surprised that I wasn't at least roughed up a bit by his security team, bit disappointed really I could've sold my story to the Scum and made a few quid.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:41, Reply)

In an auction house
back in the heady days of John Major's reign of mediocrity I was in a local auction house with a mate. I was sent off to the sandwich bar to get something for lunch. I joined the queue of about 9 people and perused their list of options.

I then become aware of someone joining the queue behind me, and with a thick accent (which I've never been able to place) he says "tsk, look at the queue, this'll take for friggin' ever." in that sort of talking to myself but loud enough to garner a comment from other people. I look round and it's shadow cabinet member and Jaguar dealership botherer John Prescott.

I reply, "You ought to have brought a packed lunch, I nearly did"
"Yeah, to keep me going while waiting to be served here" he says.
If he'd have been a regular nobody, I'd have left it at that, but I thought that seeing I voted for him in 1992, I said "I doubt you'll waste away during the 5 mins it'll take to be served"

He chuckled and we had a short but interesting conversation. Nice guy, knew his stuff and is completely opposite to how he's portrayed in the media. He lives about half a mile from me and drives a very nice Jag XJS, which was my dream car as a kid in the early 80s.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:37, Reply)

Polly Page from The Bill
Was at a fete near where I lived when I was 9. I got her autograph on a pocket-sized notepad I'd newly bought just for the occasion.

Cheers.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:29, Reply)

While we're talking Rock N' Roll
My Dad got punched by Keith Moon.

He saw the Who play in some backwoods Welsh town in the late sixties. Waited ages outside afterwards to meet them.

Out walks Keith.

'Hello, Keith, great gig! Could I have your autograph?'
-THUMP-
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:26, 2 replies)

Motorhead madness
Long, long ago....Me & my mate once spent the day backstage with Motorhead & Girlschool. We had a great time , Lemmy force-fed us Southern Comfort & the bands were larking about. Philthy Animal Taylor had a pair of comedy plastic norks which I put on my head & broke the elastic. Phil wasn't best pleased that he had been de-norked :(

Also got hit over the head with a megaphone by Hawkwind's Bob Calvert.
Happy days.
(Mister_E_Meat was caught sniffing bike saddles at, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:21, 1 reply)

Celeb Pearoast Opportunity Bliss!!
Hurray! - I missed this QOTW (or it might have been the Nightclubs QOTW) the last time round as my lurking, and lack of signing up to the board meant I couldnt post, so here goes..

I've been working in the clubs for just over 15 years, and as this usually meant doing shifts behind the bars, or spinning a few tunes in your local equivalent of Sharon & Tracy's meat market, I've crossed paths with a small handfull of celebs/z-listers/pillocks, usually in the form of those pointless 'PA' visit where they just turn up to look at whatever camera is closest and sign those stupid photo card things for pissed up punters as keep-sakes.

Anyway, over the years I've witnessed..

Big Brother:
Chanelle had a bottle of VK chucked at her from the dancefloor while she was on stage literally minutes after she sat down to sign/pose for photos in Jumpin Jaks, Halifax.

Craig (dunno which BB it was but..) came to an event I was playing at in Huddersfield one Bank Holiday to see that fat Nurse from the same series (she's from Hudds) and while arguing with our doorstaff and getting arsey with our barstaff, decided to go down the old 'do you know who I am' route - which promptly led to him getting a shoeing in our clubs fire exit.

Other Celebrity Moments:
Serving drinks in our cocktail bar at The Coliseum, Halifax and listening to that bloke from Coronation Street who played the old Butcher (Fred) going on about his old classic film and theatre days, only to be made to go up on stage and hand out pasties and pork pies from our local market - that's showbusiness eh?..

Watching Dane Bowers from 90's RnB/Boy Band 'Another Level' come into The Tube Nightclub after a PA at The Coliseum (just across the road from us) and get talked into doing a quick set on the decks, only to get booed off by our punters as UK Garage in a House Club is completely pointless..

Doing an in-house TV/Video show in The Coliseum's VIP bar, Halifax with that bloke who plays Nick Cotton from Eastenders back in the 90's - who suddenly kicked off because someone nicked his lighter, and refused to sign any autographs until we'd literally turned the place upside down to get it back - it never returned, autographs werent signed, nobody cared..

Booking Angie Brown (OldSkool act 'Bizarre Inc' vocalist) at one of my own events, and watching my bosses face turn from bewilderment to complete shock and awe (he did'nt know who she was) when, about 20 minutes before she was due onstage to sing her set, she gave me, Mrs Kavanagh, the boss, and 2 of our barstaff an impromtu live performance as a warm up in the bar upstairs - then during her set in the club, she started beatboxing and using my gaffers bald head as a deck to make 'scratching' noises - priceless!!

There are more, which I'll add later as my ailing memory begins to piece itself together (I've been working late, did'nt finish till' nearly 6am - it's been a long night..)
(danniekavanagh did nothing constructive on, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:19, 4 replies)

Does anyone else
find that they need to constantly google the names people are dropping in these posts.

I feel so out of touch... =(
(British Steel was participating in awesomeness on, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 9:13, 2 replies)

Porn Star Smackdown
In 2003, as part of my civic duty as a California resident, I decided to run for Governor of California, and soon found myself among 135 candidates for the office (ultimately won by Arnold Schwarzenegger).

Trying to find a way to stand out among the pack of candidates proved to be a real challenge, and different candidates tried different things. Among the more-talented candidates were two notables named Arianna Huffington and Peter Camejo: separate candidates who nevertheless campaigned together, since they had similar positions on the issues and together could command larger audiences than they could separately. Perhaps I could do something similar, but with whom?

Some of the candidates had weak qualifications and tangential ambitions, but nevertheless possessed starpower. Among the most flamboyant of the candidates was porn star Mary Carey, who seemed less interested in earnest political reform than standing out amongst her crowded field of ambitious starlets.

Mary Carey's travels around California took her to a nearby strip club and I traveled there to discuss how we could campaign together: sort of Huffington/Camejo lite. I could add a little gravitas and intelligence and she could contribute her starpower. Instead of talking to her, though, I saw her show.

Mary Carey came out in an orange jumpsuit, which was quickly doffed to reveal something much skimpier. Then she began dancing. Her dance was energetic enough, but was compromised by the slippery floor under her platform shoes, and the frequent stops to jam the faces of appreciative patrons between her ample breasts. When she lay down on her back and her legs traced opposing arcs to the floor, her platform shoes made distinctive clicking noises when they simultaneously touched down.

The announcer stated that the most enthusiastic fan shouting 'Mary Carey for Governor!' would get a free videotape of Mary Carey. Under most circumstances, I'd be that most enthusiastic patron, but given my own candidacy, I had a hopeless conflict of interest. Attention focused stage right, where a rather lackluster group of men tried to get her attention. Mary Carey indicated by semaphore that she wanted more enthusiasm, and started doing jumping jacks as a suggestion. One little guy in a white shirt starting doing jumping jacks with vigor, and to me it looked like the contest was over. But Mary Carey was not satisfied, and she indicated that she was going to fling the VHS tape into audience as if it were a garter at a wedding. She lost her grip with the first toss, and the tape landed flat on the stage. The second toss went better, but she brained three guys with the spinning tape before it finally came to a stop - the enthusiastic little guy lost out.

The show got more lurid as the night wore on, but suffice to say that it was energetic. She was an appealing, confident competitor who might not see the value of a joint ticket without some persuasion.

Several weeks later, many gubernatorial candidates gathered for a nationally-televised appearance on Jay Leno's "Tonight Show" in Los Angeles. After the show, and on the way out of the theater, I suddenly found myself walking beside Mary Carey. Perhaps jealous of her ability to command media attention I took a patronizing tone with her:

Me: "Mary, I saw your show when you came to Sacramento."
Her: "How did you like it?"
Me: "Oh, it was good. Say, I had this wacky idea that if Arianna Huffington and Peter Camejo can campaign together, we could do the same - a 'beauty and brains' platform."
Her: "Well, I have the brains - do you have any beauty?"

Yeowww! Then she was off, to lavish attention on the fawning media. Later, one of the gubernatorial candidates E-Mailed everyone with a link for a Mary Carey look-alike amateur porn star named Mary Caray. Just like a series of Russian stripper dolls, each with a smaller stripper doll inside: First, pop singer Mariah Carey, then porn star Mary Carey, then amateur porn star Mary Caray.....no end in sight!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 8:46, 2 replies)

The Gentle Touch
It must have been about 1987, just left school and I had
managed to get a job working for a landscaper in South London.
We got sent to a job over in the east end, no idea who it was for,
probably just the normal digging stuff and moving other things about.
This job turned out to be a bit special - Jill Gascoine's home 7.45am
on a pissing wet Monday. Her kitchen was in the basement, down a spiral staircase. It was early and she had not got dressed yet - still in her pajamas.
She was very friendly and we were having a cup of tea when her
dog wandered in the room. Jill decided to lean over and fondle the dog's head,
affording me and my colleague a wonderful and extended view of her generous norks.
And we got a tip.
(conanow, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 8:24, Reply)

I went to a Phillip Pullman lecture
And took some notes because he was speaking about children's literature and it was interesting. However he had a bit of a problem starting up the lecture and getting his presentation onto the screen. I wrote "Phillip Pullman can't do Powerpoints" at the top of my book.

It was the first thing he saw when he autographed my book after the lecture. I tried to laugh it off, but my face was roughly the colour of the sun and he half-grimaced and got me out of the queue as quick as possible...
(Mrs Ballunatic counting calories, not votes., Fri 9 Oct 2009, 8:13, 2 replies)

Bob Geldof's Daughter
I'd always secretly fancied Peaches Geldof since she first started appearing in the newspapers at 16. I'm not sure if it was the trying-desperately-hard-to-be-cool aura she gave off, or the fact that she looked as if she'd let you wank into her handbag without batting an eyelid.Yes, she wasn't the type of girl I'd typically go for, but there was definitely something about her that I found most alluring, and so, I had a big crush. With her being the daughter of one of the most famous men in the country, and the fact she'd started the make a name for herself as a 'celebrity', I knew my chances of anything happening (should we ever meet) were incredibly low. Fate, however, works in a funny way, and it was on a sweaty summers day that I finally got my chance to chat up Peaches Geldof.

It was a Friday and I was in Camden for a meeting with a client. It was nothing too fancy; I was in casual attire and we held the meeting over a pub lunch - all went well. It went so well in fact, that an agreement was met earlier that I had expected, and so I had a couple of hours to kill, rather than go back to the office until the end of the day. I went into the Arizona Bar for a pint, whilst I perused the newspapers and contemplated what to do next. Out the corner of my eye, I noticed a girl come into the bar and ask to use the toilets. I didn't pay too much attention to be honest; I was deep in thought. It was only when I heard the girl return that I did look up, and to my surprise it was Peaches Geldof, dressed all fashionably, with sunglasses on despite being inside, a leopard print dress and finished off with a moody pout.

'It's now or never', I thought, rather hastily to myself, and I called out her name.

"Peaches!", I shouted. She turned and looked at me as if I'd farted in her mouth.

"Erm, can I get a photo with you please?", I enquired, rather less boisterous than my first call.

Peaches smiled almost awkwardly, and then agreed to the photo and came over to my table. As we got chatting, I lied to her about my 'love for fashion', and talk turned to Peaches wish to bring out her own label. I explained that I may be able to help her, and offered her a drink, which she accepted without hesitation. As we continued to chat, I forgot that I was talking to quite a famous person; to me she was just another girl down the pub, although as the drink intake increased, she was beginning to look very attractive indeed, and my confidence levels soared tenfold.

"Peaches?", I said softly, and I began to trace my finger up her ankle, following the outline of a garish flower tattoo she had running all the way up her leg.

"Do you fancy getting a hotel room?" I continued, finger now at the top of her thigh. Peaches blushed. She tilted her head forward slightly, and then looked up at me. A smile formed across her delicate lips,

"Not yet, mister! Let's have a few more drinks first".

'What a tease', I thought, before agreeing. We made our way to another small pub, of which I don't remember the name, where Peaches was good mates with the owner. We started on shots of sambuca; I don't think I spent any money, much was the willingness of the bar staff to keep our drinks topped up. After an hour a so, Peaches took me by the hand and led me up some stairs at the back of the pub. I asked where we were going,

"It's ok. I stay here a lot - I basically have my own room", slurred Peaches. Her faux New York/London accent was turning me on something rotten. As we reached the top of the stairs, she pushed me into a room and we started kissing. It was drunken, sloppy kissing, but it was passionate. My hands began to wander, but every time I ventured south towards her cock-slot, my hands were pushed away. I had a raging erection, and I was willing Peaches to take it in one of her grubby little hands. But she wouldn't.

We carried on kissing and I think she sensed my sexual desperation. "I'm sorry, we can't shag", she said, every word punctuated with a kiss. "I have a fiancee"

"Well why the fuck am I here then?" I asked. I remember feeling both angry but incredibly aroused by the fact that she'd used the word 'shag'.

"We can watch each other?", Peaches mumbled. Well, that was enough for me, I was naked in no time, and I slipped her out of her dress. She lay onto a bed and began strumming away like George Formby on speed, whilst I stood over her, tugging myself silly, trying to aim my pulsating bell-end at her mouth in case I had a chance of receiving a sly suck. The site of a drunken Peaches Geldof, fwapping away blissfully, was mesmerising. My whole body tensed as an arc of gooey mess shot from my rigid rod and landed on Peaches' leg.

"THAT'S FOR 'DO THEY KNOW IT'S CHRISTMAS?' YOU FRIGID TWAT", I shouted as my first release trickled off her leg onto the bed. Peaches was in a daze, but carried on rubbing her flaps slowly. I felt the urge to go again,

"AND THAT'S FOR LIVE 8, YOU SHOWER OF SHIT", my jism landed a good foot short of hitting her again. I knew it was time to leave. I dressed hurriedly and fled, leaving Peaches half cut and half naked in the upstairs of a pub.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 8:01, 11 replies)

Rock star lifestyle
Many moons ago I was at a SF convention in Leeds. Also in town that day was 80's pop star Paul Young, probably then at about the height of his fame.

Very (very) late on the Saturday night, a bunch of us were in my room getting generally pissed and loud. There was a knock on the door and a rather hefty gentleman asked us to keep the noise down as "Mr Young is down the corridor and is tired."

Now, if it had been a normal punter we'd've shut up happily, but a pop star, for heaven's sake! He should have been joining us, bringing along cocaine and totty.

We told him to "fuck off" and carried on regardless....
(greatoldone Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl f'tagn, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 7:09, Reply)

Pizza in a bathroom with Karl Urban; also: that poor anakin kid.
So I was at this geek convention, right. They had actors from Star Wars, Star Trek, Star Gate, Battlestar Galactica - you get the drift. I was volunteering there with some friends. So there I was minding the autograph queue for Jake Lloyd, the guy that played Anakin Skywalker in the first Star Wars prequel. He turned out to be a nice enough dude, very philosophical about the fact that a) his line was utterly tiny compared to his neighbor Karl Urban of recent Star Trek fame, b) he was touring with his mum and c) everyone who passed by had an identical puzzled look when they saw the twenty-year-old man sitting in front of a poster of an eight-year-old boy. However, it was possibly adding insult to injury when he showed up for his Q&A and my friend Jack, who was in charge of the line at that door, stopped him and kindly explained that this was the queue for the Jake Lloyd talk and he'd have to go to the back. (She was later mortified to discover that he thought she was having a bit of a joke, as opposed to totally failing to recognise him.)

Later that day, us vollies were fed with pizza (extremely LATE pizza, that was a hungry day :P) which was laid out on a table in a sort of cloakroom/bathroom thing behind the registration desk. Imagine our surprise when we walk in to find Karl Urban himself hanging out in the bathroom and eating our pizza. It turned out to be a bit of a grass-is-greener situation with the leetle sandwiches provided to the guests in the green room. We were about that sick of the pizza by the end, but sadly us filching THEIR food was not an option.
(Lieutenant Colonel Oblivious brought to you by intravenous sugar, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 6:53, 1 reply)

Stephen Hendry
Many years ago I was a barman at a large hotel in Blackpool. There was a big snooker comp on at a hotel up the road and lots of the players were staying at the hotel I worked at.

Around midnight, Hendry and 2 other players who I vaguely recognised came to the bar and one of the other 2 asked for 3 pints of whatever. As it was after hours, we were only serving residents so I asked them if they were residents in the hotel, the guy says Yes, I ask him for his keycard as proof, and after a bit of argy-bargy it turns out he's not staying at THIS hotel, but in another one up the road.

I politely inform him that he'll have to go up there to get a drink.

"But their bar shuts at Midnight"

I tell him I can't help him and he gets a right arse on. Tells me what an important player he is in the snooker competition that is filling the coffers of the hotel with off-season revenue & I bloody better had serve him.

Nope

At this point, Hendry swaggers to the fore and SLAPS his keycard on the counter - "I am staying at this hotel, I'll get the drinks"

I swear, I'd waited my whole life for a moment like this.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to serve you"

Hendry, incredulous "But I'm staying here, you have to serve me"

"I'm afraid not. You see, I was watching the snooker last night, and just before you potted the last black that got you through to the next round, David Vine mentioned that it's your 18th birthday next month, which makes you under age"

Loved it then. Love it now.
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 6:35, 8 replies)

bluetuba's story reminds me of this
although it isn't anywhere near as impressive.

Those of you who follow cricket may be aware of Chris Cairns, a NZ player who is (or was, I dunno) admittedly quite good while also being a giant wanker. He's also a member at the video store I work at and, while he doesn't rent from there too often, when he does and they're late and I have to call him up, his wife always answers and demands to know who's speaking if you ask for Chris, which always gets my heckles up, as if he's some huge celebrity that has to be protected from the papparazzi or something.

One time he came in and didn't have his membership card. As often happens in these situations, I ask for his phone number.

"How about I just give you my sirname?"
"OK. Fire away."
"Cairns."
"Alright...and what was the first name?"

The way his face dropped at that moment will stay with me til the day I die.

Like I say, not as impressive as pwning Remington Steele, but it's hard to find celebrities when you live in New Zealand. I met Sir Edmund Hilary once though. Bit of a grumpy bugger but his wife was lovely.
(ElGranto, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 5:14, 1 reply)

I've just had an email from my friend in England,
who has a long-standing alcohol problem. He claims that he's in rehab with David Hasselhoff.

Does anyone know whether David Hasselhoff is in England at the moment, or should I start to fear for my friend's sanity?
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 5:05, 4 replies)

A lister who?
Some years ago I shared a hot pool with American actress Marcia Gay Harden and her sister. Had no idea whatsoever who she was and spent most of my time talking to the sister.
They came back to ours for a BBQ.

I felt REALLY STUPID when I was in the video store renting Millers Crossing and there she was on the cover...

She said I had nice legs. Quite clever for an American I thought
(schrodingers cat now you see me, or not, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 3:37, Reply)

Short but sweet
Glastonbury the other year Bob Geldof came on stage to talk about something or the other. At 1 Minute 11 seconds you hear me shout "Give us yer fuckin money"

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hV0C7BDQ-X8&feature=related#t=1m10s

Made me laugh anyway
(PassTheKhat, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 2:18, 1 reply)

Mark Calloway
I was working for the Hilton Birmingham Metropole for a few months last year on the reception desk. Serving the typical yuppie arsetarts day in day out was the norm, however the weekends would tend to bring a bit of humour to my time working there.

Being next to the National Exhibition Centre, we attracted the richest dog owners from crufts, genuinely disturbing (I'm sure many were b3tans) dr who convention visitors and minor celebrities (Keith Chegwin asked me for a light).

One paticular weekend brought the WWE wrestling association cak (I mean, there was only ever WCW and WWF). The wrestlers and staff were stopping in the hotel at the time but as I had the Friday & Saturday off work I'd missed all the check in's and thus didn't have a clue who was stopping over.

This brings me onto check out day and I ws minding my own business trying to find a proxy that worked on the computers when a huge chap came to settle up and leave - It didn't click at the time who it was;
Anyway I ask for his name, Mark Calloway is the answer. I see he is part of the wrestling group on the systems and proceed to ask for payment of which is 3 counts of 'Room Service 2' at £12 a pop. This is Porn, £36 worth of porn in one evening. Shit.

So I get Mr Calloway to sign the A4 receipt and he potters off out the hotel and gone forever. I'm curious to who this 'Mark Calloway' is, doesn't sound like an epic wrestler name and it doesn't ring any bells. You can imagine my total utter shock when I google his name:

www.google.co.uk/#hl=en&source=hp&q=mark+calloway&btnG=Google+Search&meta=&aq=f&oq=mark+calloway&fp=2b5b11435ced62e0

Needless to say I have that receipt hanging on my bedroom wall.

I sold porn to 'The Undertaker' and I have his autograph on the receipt to prove it.

None of my colleagues knew who he was.

I don't work there anymore.
(PassTheKhat, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 2:10, 6 replies)

There's only a certain amount of times you can shout
"Oi Kate Nash! Show us yer gash!" Before she'll turn around and tell you to fuck off.

It's four times.
( wanderlust, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 2:04, 3 replies)

How to piss off a Rolling Stone!
Roll back about 22 years, location Gatwick Airport, Compass Lounge.

I'd travelled from Glasgow to Heathrow en route to Dubai. The guy on the seat next to me had brought a trumpet case on board the shuttle flight and seemed a reasonable kind of bloke. Chatting away he explained the trumpet as he was part of the "Charlie Watt's Big Band" and was off to the USA for the groups American tour.

In Gatwick, we made straight for the bar, met other members of the "Big Band" and proceeded to get "charged up" for our respective flight's. After a couple of beer's a respectable looking gentleman approached the table with two bottles of wine, glasses and a face I recognised. "Wotcher Boy's, anyone want some wine?" he asked the band!

Yup,'twas the man, Charlie Watts himself. I'd never really met a celeb before but I was gobsmacked at how easy he was to talk to and the fact that there were no "airs and graces" with him. Being in the company of the band members I was accepted without question and we got fired into the proffered Chardonnay.

Fast forward, me, thinking I'm being amusing jumps into the conversation with what I thought was a topical joke!

"What's the difference between Bill Wyman and a Whippet?"

Stunned silence!

"A Whippet waits for the hairs to come out"

Cue the Stones drummer, going apeshit, storming away and my new found friends staring at me with distaste and mutters of "that really pissed the Guvn'r off"

"Final call for Emirates Flight EK010 to Dubai" could not come quick enough!
( fagilliD Fuck I'm good!, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 1:26, Reply)

Billy Connelly
bought me lunch. I suppose that's not really rude though and he did offer. Top bloke and great company. Sorry I've nothing bad to say.
(knackerz is skinning up, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 1:16, Reply)

riker and i hung out and made sandwiches together

( d d, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 0:52, Reply)

Tony Bennett
This wee guy was a contempory of Sinatra and the like and when i met him at Glastonbury festival what did i ask him ??

What was it like going on the Muppet Show ??

He looked at me like i was dog shite he had scraped off his hand stitched italian loafers

I pricked his ego !!-result !!

Saying that - his set was ice cool : )

Length ?- irrelevant
(shug, Fri 9 Oct 2009, 0:12, Reply)