I had a friend who was very cynical about foodstuffs.
We went shopping and he just about criticised everything with a bizarre explanation. I picked up a bag of penne pasta.

"Pasta? flour and water isn't it? Maudlin, you're eating glue"

bit further round, in the wine aisle.
"Wine? rotting fruit in stagnant water"

Milk:
"udder piss"

"Fuck off with your shit puns" said I.

He was just getting silly now. In the meat section, picked up some turkey fillet:
"Fowl muscles"

"If you don't stop, I will kick your arse off the top of your legs, right, we just need some eggs then we can go"

"Eggs? Hen tricks"

There see? There is a crap pun in this QOTW.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 12:25, 2 replies)

Nutty Nigel: Newbury's most famous man
He was called Nutty Nigel and we think he used to live in Vicky Park. Some of the tramps there were alright; they used to ignore us. There was me and her. We'd skive school and sit in the park and drink K Cider to try to make me happy and rum to keep us warm. The tramps would come up and bum the odd fag (amusing how in america the phrase 'to bum a fag' is totally different eh?) and they were alright. When some of them looked at us there was a deep sadness, with most of them there was nothing in their eyes, there was nothing at all. Nutty Nigel was different. He was edgy. He used to wander up and down the highstreet with a plastic bag over his head, looking for laughs. He'd try and jump on the cars in the gridlocked high street. That sort of thing.

There were all these rumours around him. I heard that he was an eccentric millionaire from several people, enough to almost believe it. It was said he had rolls of twenty pound notes strapped to his legs and that he was from one of the big country houses nearby. I saw him the last time I went home, over 15 years now, I guess. I was a better class of drunk by then, so I didn't drink in the park; I drank in the hire car. But I parked the car next to Vicky Park, for old time's sake. I was thinking of her, and how the way her tights went up past her hemline, and how it used to look when I saw him. He was puking into a Woolies bag, and I watched as he put it on his head. Then I watched him psych himself up and jiggle his shoulders as an actor would. Then I watched as he wandered around the park with his bag on his head. It was really cold, I remember. The cold was like an iron grip around me, even though the car had a heater and I had rum.

I saw him, and thought 'At least he's got his money to go back to'. Later I told my mum about him. She said she knew his parents, they were just as poor as us. They'd tried everything to help him, but nothing had worked. Now he was the most famous man in Newbury.

I thought he'd be dead now, but I googled him and here he is: www.newburytoday.co.uk/News/Article.aspx?articleID=6547

Edit: and a facebook group: www.facebook.com/pages/Nutty-Nigel/12084371339
(sirolimus, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 12:00, 4 replies)

Twisted Balloon Man
I live in Hull and there is this eccentric guy who has been going round town for years by himself (ive seen him for at least 14yrs throughout my drinking career). He has Ken Dodd style hair and wears cords with a bright shirt at all times. He walks into a pub and starts placing uninflated twistable balloons on every table. Then he procedes to go round the tables in his creepy manner blowing them up and making say a sausage dog and then he gives it to you with a "TAAA DAAAAAAAA". Then he moves to the next table and makes someone a balloon hat "TAAAA DAAAAAA". I know hes only being friendly but it freaks me out especially when im under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs. He is probably wearing a tight balloon on his penis. I once got arrested after a fight and when we was waiting for an ambulance the balloon man popped up from no where and decided to try cheering me up by making me a pair of balloon handcuffs. lol. I told him to "FUCK OFF OR I WILL KICK YOUR CUNT IN"
(ferretchops, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 11:56, 3 replies)

My mate
Jammy-Dodger Dave is eccentric:



He thinks he's a Jaffa Cake.

( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 11:50, 5 replies)

Two wierd boys.
Last year of primary school, there were two brothers in 5th and 6th grades. The 5th grader was a thumb sucker. At 9 or 10 years old it's strange. But the older brother made him look normal. He sucked the two middle fingers of his right hand, while he held a downy chicken feather to his nose between thumb and forefinger.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 11:07, 2 replies)

Sorcerer's Apprentice
I used to live across the road from a guy who never went outside except to go to pick up his giro - my earliest memories are of the late 1970s, and when I passed the place recently, the garden had quite possibly still not been touched since at least then.

He kept the curtains closed. He didn't use electric light. He'd advertise sorcery lessons in the local paper. And rumour had it that he had a daughter whom he'd named Andromeda and who'd buggered off as soon as possible.

In retrospect, he was clearly a person with mental health problems, possibly compounded by way too much acid when younger. But, as a young 'un, I was fascinated by this proper, honest-to-god, devil worshipper. Oh, yeah.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 10:57, 1 reply)

The man I love thinks
that when he's asleep invisible creatures steal his dreams. He is quite, quite convinced. I attribute this to too much Carlos Castaneda at a formative age and the fact that he smokes enough for two. He doesn't believe me when I tell him about science.

Some night when he's sleeping I'm going to blindfold him and then smother him with a pillow. This has little to do with invisible dream creatures and more to do with the fact that he's a cunt.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 10:55, 6 replies)

are you a winner?
or are you a sinner?

some of us have found jesus christ. others are lost without jesus christ.



repeat ad nauseam, through a megaphone, until slapped with an ASBO...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 10:45, 3 replies)

Brick buy brick
My brother once knew someone whose hobby was to build and sell fully operational burglar alarm systems out of lego.

Does that count?
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 10:45, Reply)

Hyde Park
A woman walking an Olde English Sheepdog.

The dog stops to do its business near a tree.

The woman, being the good citizen she is, clears up the dog's befoulings with a plastic bag.

She then, quite thoroughly, and meeting surprisingly little protestation, wipes the dog's arse.
(LongJohnBaldry, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 10:33, 10 replies)

Mr Cole
This week's question about eccentrics has brought tall tales, quips and some lists. My story here may or may not be true, but I've chronicled it here especially, just for you.

As I sit here at my computer, I'm reminded of my old form tutor at secondary school, a wizened man who dressed in tweed and played the fool...

(Something to denote regression of time, like fading out or wavy lines)

Up to the age of about fifteen, the majority of my teachers were grumpy and mean. Not a one could take a joke, they'd give us detention for sneaking a smoke out the back of the sports hall.

Rain or shine, P.E. would always
be a time where kids with asthma wheezed and coughed, the bigger boys would get sent off and teach would force us, every one, to run cross-country til we'd come to the end of our breath, we'd cross ourselves, make a prayer and welcome death.

Humanities were not much better, history and geography teachers would set us masses of homework, tonnes of tasks, just too much to be asked of frustrated kids with stuff to do, lives to lead and computer games to play through.

So anyway, at about fifteen, a new breed of teacher came on the scene. Mr Cole looked old and grey, but a realisation soon came our way. This guy was strange, somehow different, unafraid of snide or judgement. His clothes harked back to days of old, his mannerisms up-front and bold. His teaching style was fast and furious, and often he'd take time to inform us of background history, facts and stories which helped our memories but didn't bore us.

Many things about him were eccentric - his manner of dress and his incredibly thick, curly hair and beard, which other pupils considered weird but I found quite endearing. Despite his age, he wore an earring, a silver stud and was generally cheery - apart from first thing in the morning, his mood was always good. The pop music, upon which he frowned, nips from a hip-flask that he downed. He'd often puff away on his pipe, and look at you with one eye slightly squint and askew, as if he was looking and a different direction from that he was talking.

I'm sure you're getting the idea, so I'll sum up now for fear of bleating on too much and losing you - not something I want to do.

Mr Cole, my favourite eccentric geezer, sticks in my mind for a particular reason. For the school's Hallowe'en party, he dressed up as Moriarty. The art teacher, dressed as Old Mother Hubbard, enticed old Cole into a cupboard for an illicit fumble, during which the cupboard tumbled and, during his last erotic adventure, he shot his load and choked on his dentures.

Rest in peace, Mr Cole, you strange, eccentric, musty old soul.

(A quick footnote for those with a good eye - this post may contain elements of lie)
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 10:17, 2 replies)

David Bellamy
Smart guy. Nice guy. Someone suggested he was a little strange in his younger days though*:



Tell us if you circumcised so we know to be careful/sympathetic/cruel as required.

*What? It's not? Que?


( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 9:26, 4 replies)

Not me but...
A story recounted to me by a friend. Actually, this probably would have gone quite well in last week's "tightwad" question as well, but oh well.

My friends are out on a boat trip one weekend, enjoying the open seas and nature in all its general loveliness, when suddenly they see a man in the sea, clinging to a rock and signalling frantically to them. Alarmed and also rather excited to be part of a rescue mission, they steer the boat over to to see if they can help. The man in question is a chinese gentleman, who bellows to them in broken English: "ARE YOU SMOKING??"

He was out at sea, at least an hour away from civilization. And he wanted to bum a fag.

During the course of the day they saw several people go over to "rescue" him, before realizing his game and driving off again. They saw him the next weekend too. Apparently he's quite well known by the marine police.
(schnuff, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 9:12, Reply)

Speaking of eccentric teachers
My metalwork teacher was a colourful character - he seemed to have a gruesome tale to tell about every piece of equipment. Coping Saw eh? Once saw the blade snap on one of those and skewer a lass in the eye! Pillar Drill? One girl got her hair caught in that and they reckon the drill bit hit her two thousand times before it stopped... Needless to say in year 7 of school we were all shit-scared of this equipment.
Had a geography teacher who would lunge about the room on every second word for emphasis. We're not talking pacing here, oh no, full lunges - oft accompanied with a bemusing display of flailing arms.
Other highlights include a P.E. teacher who was frighteningly like Mrs. Man from Scary Movie - deep voice, very broad shoulders *shudder*
The greatest eccentric though had to be one of the kids, a guy a few years younger than me. Through birth or accident he'd found himself in a wheelchair so he was deserving of sympathy and respect for his condition - no arguments there. However, this kid was stark-raving-bonkers. He would patrol the corridors and if you were on your own, God help you. The first thing you'd hear was the imitated car revving sounds and then the wheels themselves as he would come hurtling towards you. It would then be a mad dash to an exit/stairs (sorry) before he caught up with you and attempted to run you over and bugger me could he go at a fair lick.
Ahh school days eh?
( Uncle Phallus Strong like fly, fast like elephant, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 7:47, 2 replies)

Well
In less than 24 hours, we'll all find out whether the lunatics are in the minority or the majority here in the good old USA.

It's going to be a long day.

Seriously fellow Merkins, GET OUT AND VOTE!
(not here, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 7:04, 6 replies)

Mr Weir(d)
Old Mr Weir was my high school metalwork teacher. He was a little eccentric to say the least.

One of his favourite rants was "Nothing is perfect !" God help you if you ever finished a piece of work and said the P word with him in earshot. He was also quite relegious and took it seriously.
One day the class knew they were going to have a theory period instead of a praticle. Somebody crept into the classroom during break time and drew a large pentogram on the board. Mr weir would not go near the board and he couldnt persuade anyone to clean it off for him. Result in a praticle period for the class.

He only owned one suit that he wore to the friday assembly. It was an old green thing. This coupled with his beard and short round body made him look like a lepruchan.

He was also proud of his thrift . On at least one occasion he told the class how his wife was only allowed to buy clothes from second hand and charity shops. He was also immensly proud of only spending $50 a year on materials for all his classes, despite a budget well into 4 figures .

Mr Weir drove a diffrent car each day of the week because " I like variety" . He owned 7 Austin Maxis.

Truly one of the greatest characters in my school years.
(welgar, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 6:45, 2 replies)

ANYONE who's spent time in reading will know this dude.
the time is the summer of 2001
the place is reading's forbury gardens
a younger, less furry peteloaf is chillaxing after a hard day's riding, with some friends and randoms.
suddenyl, from nowhere, a stocky guy in a sleeveless leather trenchcoat, no shirt, and white facepaint comes boundign across the grass on all fours, occasionally leaping in the air grappling some invisible foe. he then runs to where we are, starts pacing round on all fours panting an growling.. naturally young loaf is somewhat unsettled. mad guy leaps at young loaf, who retaliates by leaping to his feet and clocking him one.
he looked SHOCKED and upset.. then bounded off grappling invisible foes. a little while later i see him up on top of this lion: www.c-realevents.demon.co.uk/events07/RFF0701.jpg
howling like a banshee. fuck alone knows how he got up there.
this was my introduction to 'nutty jason'
reading's premiere guardian against the invisible and apparently wrestling-crazed forces of evil.

over the next few years i've seen him in some amazing getups. tuxedo minus the shirt, face made up like the crow and fingerless leather gloves. i've seen him hassling ENDLESS people, usually YOUGN girls.. who he plies with his ubiquitous bottle of booze.

i have also on occasion talked to him. he can be a very nice, normal guy. he's married but separated, has a kid...
he's also a paranoid schizophrenic who takes WAAAY too many drugs.
i remember one day seeing him take a flying leap from the guttering of the bandstand, an impressive flying elbow drop that would put hulk hogan to shame, onto tarmac from about 12 feet up. got up pissing blood, laughed, bounded off like a rabid baboon.

once you realise he's MOSTLY harmless (unless you really provoke him) he's pretty entertaining. i think he's now banned from the forbury gardens for terrorising kids. he's still about though. every now and again you'll catch him on a lucid moment.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 4:59, 1 reply)

My mate Jack
My mate Jack's a bit unhinged. He loves messing about in boats, and got arrested once for trying to commandeer someone else's boat when his own was unavailable.

He's mad keen on orienteering; he's always got a compass with him, wherever he goes. He's a bit of a party animal, too, often drinking vast quantities of rum and muttering about the craic. At least, I think that's what he says.

He always seems drunk, and can never stand still for more than a second. You can be standing there, talking to him, and he'll be weaving back and forth like a prize-fighter who's taken one too many blows.

He's got a mental hairdo, and plaits all sorts of stuff into his barnet. I can't remember the last time he admitted to washing it.

I never know when he's going to turn up. Whenever he does, he spouts incomprehensible nonsense, then buggers off again to do whatever it is he does when he's not trying to seduce my girlfriend, Liz.

For all his bonkers antics, he's one of the smartest people I know. He's got plenty of savvy, and even more style.

My mate Jack is ace.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 2:31, 2 replies)

My boyfriend.
Not just because he is dating someone 16 years younger than him.

Once, in a fervent moment of self-expression, poured wet paint over his entire body before going to bed. We had to put him under the shower to unstick the sheets from him the next morning.
(Ay, Why, Kay, Jee, Oh, Tee, Ell bcdefhijmnpqrsuvwxz, Tue 4 Nov 2008, 1:02, 1 reply)

George Lovehunter
I felt sure I'd never known someone sufficiently eccentric until The Moai mentioned ex-boxers.

Going back a decade or so, I used to frequent the "every other thursday" Comedy Club in the basement of the Flapper and Firkin, Birmingham. It was, frankly, a grim hole, but the shining light was the first act, George Lovehunter.

George, as subsequent t-shirts informed us - was Boxing Champion of Aston and Erdington 1953. Conversation with George fairly quickly revealed the special personality of a man who has been struck repeatedly in the head. But George had a dream, and that dream was stand-up comedy.

And so, every other week the hosts would turn up at George's secure accomodation, claim to be his nephews, and check him out for the evening. And George would get on stage in front of a pub full of drunk assholes, and deliver a comedy act so unrelentingly awful that it stunned them into joining his delusion.

If ever there was an act that epitomised the phrase, "you had to be there" it was George's. He did impressions, and until you've heard Olive Oyl in a thick brummy accent you haven't experienced true comedy.

Since we went every time, and so did George, we had a special relationship with him. That was how we spotted that his favourite shirt buttoned, shall we say, "the other way".

Yes, our boxing champion was wearing a Big Girl's Blouse.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 23:57, 1 reply)

My mate Pikey
- his aunt. She invented the cheese filing system. Basically she invented hyperlinking before Tim Berners Lee got round to inventing the World Wide Web. She'd get quite irate about particular issues and would compose stern letters, which were originally about cheese but had been expanded to incorporate many other subjects:

"Dear BBC,
Your news article this week showed a 'hovercraft' - what a clever machine! Essentially, however, this is a misnomer. It does not, in fact, hover. It should actually be called a skimmercraft. Please amend your bulletin."

She would write this in shorthand and file it, under the cheese filing system, in categories pertaining to "hovercraft", "skimmercraft", "boat, "transport" and "water". Had she learned the fundamentals of database systems she would have been in her element. Instead she died and her family spent a good deal of money deciphering the notes she had carefully taken when they were children. This proved vaguely redundant when they turned out to be the lyrics "do", "a poo" and "English country garden".
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 23:36, Reply)

New Zealander Flatmate
1/ He ate raw broccoli on toast

2/ Wore his towel round his chest when coming out of the shower/bathroom....then laughed when chandler did it on friends
(mermaeve is very trying, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 22:48, Reply)

My best friend
I miss my old roommate - lets call him "Dan" - good soul, great guy - and eccentric? Absolutely.

While driving his Gold 70's Camero (which he had removed the back seat from and replaced with a set of giant bass speakers (girls, um, just loved sitting on them for some reason...) home from Washington DC one day we looked in the rearview mirror and saw not just one cop car following us - but a flotilla of cops taking up the entire highway behind us. Red and blue whirring lights literally filled our view as far as we could see. A U.N peace conference was going on that week in DC and they were getting a police escort back to their hotels (or the airport?) and the cops were driving in front and along side it to clear traffic to the sides as it passed and make sure everything proceeded in a secure and orderly manner.

Dan - in his camero with it's "Ozzie for president" bumper sticker and fake Zebra skin seat covers decided this was the moment to "get back at the cops" for all the times his car had been towed for parking violations.

And so he did *not* move out of the way.

Cops on motorcycles came up and flashed their lights.

He slowed down.

The entire motorcade behind him slowed down - they weren't going to split around him.

The cop on the motor cycle *knocked on Dan's driver side window* and gestured for him to move aside.

Dan went slower.

Through out much waving and gesturing between the cop and Dan starring straight ahead with a determined look on his face, the entire motorcade traversed two or three miles of the highway at a maximum rate of about 15 miles an hour... until Dan got to his exit and pulled off to continue home. I was sure at least one cop would follow to deliver a warning, beating or at least a court summons ... but instead the whole thing just sped back up and went on.

Bastard was lucky too =)

I'd never seen him so proud =)

While going to college - he built a running moat in his dorm room. With an operable 4 foot drawbridge.

Damn near killed himself when he was spray-painting it too. After 2 hours of spraying his drawbridge he just had a little bit of unpainted area left - and had breathed in enough paint fumes in the small enclosed room that when he ran out of paint the idea of just "popping open" the pressurized spray can to get that last bit of paint he knew was still inside... seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea... one hammer, one nail and *Boom* later - he was shocked sober enough to open a window to get some fresh air. He, the last patch that needed painting, and most of the room actually - were also covered in a fine mist of silver.

I met him a short while after that, we became immediate best friends when we met - because I gave him my extra oatmeal cookie. That was all he needed, friends for life from that moment on.

College spirit week with Dan was an epic adventure - Hat day alone was worth a 4 years tuition. His hat was over 5 feet tall, 4 wide, and had supports which went down to the ground from the edges with wheels on them so he could walk around and still wear the monstrosity. It had it's own sound system, was at least partially edible, and if I remember correctly had a live in resident (chipmunk? squirrel? something small and furry) which would clamber about on it. Fantastic, sitting in class when that walked in was something no one ever forgot. Of course it needed it's own seat when he sat down, but I think that's understandable.

He spent a summer packing parachutes for people who wanted to go skydiving. His one complaint? He wished the job came with some training...

His final project - a Movie titled "How to disarm a thermonuclear device in south america if your entire unit should have been eaten by giant radioactive fireants" actually didn't suck. The conversion of a riding mower into a "Battle Wagon" for the insertion team became legendary. "Samurai Night Fever" needed a little work though.

Living together after college (how could I not invite him to live with me out in DC? what bad could possibly come of it?) was pure pleasure.

We built a Tesla coil. If you've never built one - do so - it's a wonderful experience. Nothing like having pure electricity arc between your hands, stings like a bitch though. We used it mainly to tattoo tomatoes.

At one point he was looking for work ... so we ran for local office. I went for school board, he did more research and found out the local head of the "Office of Water and Soil" had run unopposed for the last 3 years - we felt a little bad when requesting the forms and such because the nice lady on the phone mentioned a local "Crackpot" who ran for elections with out any qualifications...

Even if it wasn't directly aimed at us we'd never graduated to actual, officially titled "crackpots" before.

He got a job doing in house instructional videos for a dotcom investment place - his "If you don't lock your computer, a Ninja will steal your pants" video was beyond Brilliant - best thing I ever saw - the demonstration (in both real time and slow-motion capture) of the ninja stealing the worker's pants convinced many an IT drone to properly hit ctrl-alt-del before leaving their work station.

Sometimes we'd just get in the car and trust to the universe to provide an adventure. From driving the stranded mother daughter hooker team home (a three hour drive where the daughter made serious moves on Dan, and the mother did rain man impressions at me - no, that's not innuendo - she just kept quoting Rain man at me - I don't know why.) to the "Little Ricky" Pirate soda Homies, to ... well, it worked, you should try it sometime. Adventures are there to be had.

When he moved out he moved into Hostel community in Georgia - that lives entirely in tree houses. You move in, and you can either pay to stay - or work on building more tree houses in trade. He stayed for over 6 months. Met his now wife there. Lovely place. Google it.

After that he became an air traffic controller. He's red green color blind, but he didn't let that stop him.

And recently he left that and joined the intelligence community. No joke.

In the evenings he does a local cable news show that's just about everything you would hope it would be =)

Great Guy =)

Apologies for length - but the young naked lady he tied up in a pirate flag swore it was all worth it.
( Allisade would love to hear from you, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 21:52, 7 replies)

Me
When I was a kid, our old garage got broken into. Nothing was taken as the burglar was frightened away by our neighbour at the time. Being the eccentric child that I was, I rigged up a 'burglar alarm' which consisted of an old clacker type alarm clock, a large length of string and a sack of coal.

The bell on the clock was set to ring, but couldn't as the little silencer lever thing was in the way - which was tied to the string, which in turn was tied to the garage door. Because the clock was wedged by the sack of coal, it would remain in place when the string was pulled, and the lever would release, and the bell would ring. Loudly. Hey presto, a home made burglar alarm. By a seven year old.

My parents would remain worriedly quiet about my new inventions - I decked out a pedal go cart with 'lights' (They were drawings of head and tail lights, sellotaped onto a small bit of wood, and were 'activated' by tugging on the appropriate string to lift a small flap, revealing the 'light.') I also created a jumbo jet cockpit from a washing machine box, a virtual reality headset from a shoebox and even camped out inside another large box (I forget where it was from) in protest because my parents insisted I couldn't keep it. I once sang to them through a loo roll taped onto a Tampax box (It was a record player, with a record made from a circle of card attached with a split pin.)

What did I grow up to be?

Not a lot. I dig the road up and fix broken pipes (stop complaining, you'd be buggered without us. No, really.) I'm far from the mad genius my parents hoped I'd be, but I still carry a few eccentricities with me even now. I'm 25 and I wear a bumbag under my coat, I hate the weight of stuff in my pockets. My friends (yes, I have friends) tease me constantly about my 'fanny pack.' I have to wear earplugs when near busy roads or places as the noise just drives me insane, even when everyone else doesn't seem affected. I really enjoy the company of older people, I drive an '05 diesel Skoda and yet despite this I refuse to wear slippers as that would simply be crossing a line - I wear these huge woolly socks that are downright lethal on laminate floors. I love peace and quiet and a good book by the fire and it seems I'm the only 25 year old on Earth who does so - I live near a University and am constantly reminded of how old I am mentally.

I am also dimly aware that I will never, ever have sex ever again. This in itself is fairly eccentric.

In before "You're not eccentric, just sad, mate..."
(oneltrchardonnay, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 20:48, 2 replies)

How could I forget...
My old maths teacher.

He had several obsessions, the most obvious of which being maths. He was a great teacher because he was just so passionate about his subject. He would get a sometimes worrying amount of pleasure from solving equations. He could easily spend half an hour telling us about why the date was so significant (1/3/08 - today is a fantastic day, anyone know why? If you square 1 and 3 and subtract them you get 8!). He never seemed to realise that it didn't really phase us in the slightest.

He loved Japan, accompanying us on our school trip there. Unfortunately this had its cons, as you will realise after sitting for an hour trying to understand maths with Japanese drumming blaring over the sound system. He also spoke some basic Japanese, as did a few of us, and I can tell you not many things are funnier than hearing someone speak Japanese with a scouse accent.

He also declared one day that he had logged the levels of rainfall in his garden for the last 10 years, and was genuinely offended when, upon him offering to share the data if anyone wanted to use it as a basis for their coursework, someone said what we'd all been thinking and came out with "but sir, rainfall is sad!"

Possibly his greatest obsession was sundials. No idea why, but he'd go on about them for ages. He almost died of excitement the day someone brought one in to be evaluated.

He had a strange thing about bow ties, too. Our school system was on a two week basis, and he wore a bow tie on week one and a "straight" tie as he called it on week two. Apparently this was in our interest to help us remember which week it was because there's two vowels in straight and one vowel in bow. Duh. One of the ties he wore bore the title HMS Woodcock on it. Now this isn't overly hilarious, but take it from me, when you're standing at the front of the class, all eyes on you as he marks your work not laughing has never been more difficult.

He also grew a Jedi style braid once which was the day he won my respect.

But the finest moment has to be this activity he arranged for a group of people. I think it was Japan themed and part of it involved smashing a melon with a hefty piece of log. One girl picks up the log, swings it back and WHAM! right into his face. I wasn't there, but I know a few people who claim they've never laughed so hard.

Apparently he's head of maths now though. Hats off to you sir!
(Sebastiano, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 20:20, 1 reply)

orange head man.
Orange head man likes swimming. Everyday.
In the sea.
All year round.
Wearing an orange swimming cap, and speedos.

Pretty harmless, if a bit nuts, but it's getting eccentric when it's blowing a force 9 and he keeps getting flattened by the shorebreak, speedos blown down by his ankles, in 9C water.

And he doesn't give up until he's managed his 200metres.

Highly amusing watching an elderly man going over the falls and slamming into the sand though.
(inflateable, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 19:39, 1 reply)

Small Liberal Arts College
My conservative grandfather loved to remark about all the "crazy liberals" in the Midwest. I figured he was the crazy one, until I went to a liberal arts college.

Some of the characters include:

Sally: Sally has two volumes, loud and off. She routinely walks into my room, puts a piece of duct tape on my roomie's wall and writes whatever word on it. This morning, she walked in, removed her shirt, and began telling me at length about how her bazookas were different sizes... And that she is an ice cream cone.

Kyle: Kyle always agrees with you. "Kyle, you're a spineless asshole." "I know", "Kyle, your textbook is in the microwave" (it's in his hands...) "I know", "Kyle you're an evolutionary throwback" "I know"... He was actually dating a chick at the beginning of the year, when she broke up with him, he promptly kicked through double-paned safety glass, then sat down and waited for campus security - with his foot still through the door.

John: John is narcoleptic - Res life put him on the fourth floor, with no elevators - he sleeps in the boy's lounge. He routinely replaces words with "darsh", as in "Who has the darsh? (time)" or "I can't find my darsh. (jacket)". John writes poetry on notebooks he holds up to the window - two feet from the table.

Mary: Mary managed to be the only freshman with her own room. How? It was a two step process. First, if you stopped by her room when the door was open, she would gladly sit and give you the rundown on her favorite vibrators -and show them to you as she proudly explains how one's dying from overuse. Second, her roommate is just sitting on her computer doing homework and she looks over and Mary's just having a good ol' time with herself - completely naked and lying on top of her sheets.

Laura and Sarah: Roommates who are the real life equivalent of Will and Grace's Karen and Rosario....

Chris:Chris is about 6'3" and constantly wanders around with a teacup made for a child. He offers to read your tea leaves in exchange for good gin. Every time he drinks his gin; however, he attempts to either maim or molest me. Is also very prone to (while sober) sit in a chair and giggle manically at nothing.

Joe: Joe is a smelly hippy who can generally be found hanging upside down from the exposed plumbing above the vending machines, because it gives him perspective.

And, finally, Stuart: Stuart loves him bike to the point of obsession. He will tell you at length how his bike is his wife and his other bike is his sister (somehow, these are equivalent in his mind), but his bed is simply a one night stand which he uses and abuses when he wants to.

We also have our fair share of typical weirdos, boys in dresses, that kid who only eats yellow food, the boy who will meow at you and then ask if you have a cat, and the theatre department, so typically crazy and rarely dull.

Length? *blushes* It might be too big...
(CaffeineFiend, Mon 3 Nov 2008, 19:24, 5 replies)