My wife's cakes
Were eaten by Sol Campbell.
Neither of us witnessed the man nor the eating of the cakes but the wife told me he had enjoyed them.
I see no reason to doubt her.
( Weejock, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 9:33, 3 replies)

My eldest
When I was younger, I watched a film. I can't remember what it was now, but one of the characters was called Mercedes.

I loved unusual names, even as a kid, and naming your daughter after something so beautiful appealed even more.

When I was seventeen, I got my first car. They say you never quite get over your first love, and I spent many months honing her to perfection. Her paintwork shone in the sun as I applied another coat of wax, and her engine purred beautifully.

Unfortunately, she was an old model, and despite maturing like a fine wine, as time went on it became obvious that I'd have to let her go. I can honestly say that no car since has come close to being as great as she was.

Skip forward a few years and I've driven newer cars, faster cars and more expensive cars, but nothing emulated what I had felt before, and as time went on I realised that what I felt was a kind of love.

A few more years later and I'm in a relationship, with my first baby on the way. Money was tight and we'd generally spend our time chatting. Many a night was whiled away with me talking about that first car. So much so that my then partner fell in love by proxy.

Just a couple of weeks before our baby was born, we still hadn't settled on a name. Several baby name books were stacked in the corner, each one read and re-read without success.

Then This Morning came on tv, with a segment about baby names. We watched intently as they discussed our very problem, before they came up with the solution that we chose: Name your baby after someone you admire or love.

We'd been down the actress / singer / politician route without any luck, but it seemed as if we hit on the same idea at the same time. Name her after the car I had loved, and that my partner had grown to love.

That was ten years ago now, and time has flown by. We've had more kids since then, and naming them seems to have gotten easier.

You're not allowed to have favourites as a parent, but hearing my eldest's name always brings a smile to my face, and I dedicate this post to her.

JHK 331Y, I love you and you make me a very proud daddy. 
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Fri 17 Apr 2009, 9:23, 4 replies)

I once
got to shake the hand of the head singer of Zion Train.

...who?
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 9:16, 2 replies)

The LHC...
I have a lot of fangirl stories of more normal varieties, but that era of my life ended rather messily in ways which are not nearly amusing enough for B3ta. So I won't bother with those. However, I still have a bit of fangirl in me which got directed in a rather odd way last year.

I had ended up on a PhD programme which resulted in me getting a CERN access card last summer. I establised around July when I was working there briefly that I had legitimate access to the CERN control room, but went home in August.

Being a board full of geeks, most of you should know why 10 September was a day I was very much looking forward to. It was the day the LHC would be switched on and the world's media attention turned to CERN. I tried desperately to find an academic reason to be there (free flights), my supervisors annoyingly found an excuse to send me there on 4 September and then promptly back to the UK the next day. But remembering that

1) I still had a CERN access card
2) Easyjet exist and fly to Geneva

I wasn't going to be stopped so easily.

About 10 days before I decided I WAS going, and 2 friends decided to accompany me. I didn't even know if I'd be able to get them in, and heard that the event was going to be broadcast in the auditoria which sounded awfully like we were going to be discouraged from the control room.

Now comes the real obsessive fan bit. We arrived at about 11pm the night before, and knew that even looking for accommodation was pointless. We made our way to the site with the control room, security let all 3 of us through, then the people at the control room willingly let us in! It was 2am...no-one was there except the people actually operating the machine. Oh yes, we were officially the biggest LHC fans IN THE WORLD.

We felt a bit awkward there, deciding we'd just get kicked out later we made our way back to the main site to watch from an auditorium after a few hours attempting to sleep rough outsite the restuarant. It soon became clear that they were letting people in the control room, I went back there after they'd got the beam around once but by then they'd tightened security and my non-CERN friends weren't even allowed on that site. But we could still all say we'd flown to Geneva, been in th LHC control room at 2am, slept rough and been at CERN to see the biggest science event of our lifetimes so far.
(GothicTechie, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 8:57, 15 replies)

Fan-boy journalism
I started working as a music journalist to get to meet my heroes. I've interviewed most of them, like Michael Gira, Blixa Bargeld, Diamanda Galas and Johnn Balance. After I talked to Nick Cave I decided I'd met them all, and quit.

So I became a newsreporter and -presenter. I interviewed several world leaders, of the PC kind, like Kofi Annan, Thabo Mbeki, Joaquin Chissano and so forth. (I even got in spitting distance of Bill Clinton!) When I finally understood that I would never get to interview Nelson Mandela, I quit.

Now I just worship money, and try to make as much as possible. I wonder if I'll ever feel I've earned enough money.
(sb1, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 8:53, 1 reply)

Toto
Back in 2006 I flew up to Sydney to catch the TOTO Falling In Between tour gig (They had hits back in the 80s with Africa, Roseanna and Hold the Line) with some mates, one who's in the music promotion biz, he'd arranged for us to go back stage after the band had finished, Waiting around for what seemed forever we piled in and nearly knocked a few people over into the back room and met the band in a room filled with 'We're not worthy' types!

Needless to say our rather laid back group of people got invited to go out drinking with lead singer Bobby and guitarist/singer Steve.

Won't be a night I'll soon forget, our group and the two guys from the band and their tour manager got quite smashed at an Irish themed bar, much beer and bourbon was drunk!

Gotta say some of the fans were the somewhat extreme "I own everything you've ever recorded" types.. They scared even me let alone the dudes from the band..
( Jimmer still not dead at, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 6:29, 2 replies)

You've got red on you
Shaun of the Dead (or SotD, acronym fans), what a fucking marvellous film.

I certainly thought so when it was released in the UK. I'd already watched it several times thanks to a dodgy hand-held camera copy I'd downloaded, and then I went to see it thrice at the cinema with different groups of friends. It's one of the few films I can still watch again and again without getting bored. Simon Pegg and Nick Frost already occupied a special place in my brain thanks to the superlative TV show ‘Spaced’ and I'd met Pegg briefly a couple of times previously at media events, thanks to some well-connected friends. Not quite stalker material yet, but I would have cheerfully gay-married either of them after SotD.

I was living in London when the DVD was released and the Virgin Records shop at Piccadilly Circus was carrying a limited-edition version with a fancy sleeve. I had to have it, but to complicate matters some of the cast would be signing copies in store. There was a good chance I wouldn't be able to get one as I was working late that evening and the demand was sure to be high.

Determination won me over in the end, so I snuck out of work early and made my way to Piccadilly Circus. The DVD signings were going on until 7:30pm; I arrived just after 5pm... to be greeted by a HUMONGOUS queue. It snaked its way around every aisle on the ground floor of the shop, out of the door and round the corner onto Piccadilly itself. I was gutted, there was no way there would be any left at this rate.

I joined the back of the line anyway, cursing my luck. As time dragged on, we moved slowly towards the store. It was a very warm evening and once inside the store itself, the sheer quantity of people made it nauseatingly hot. A few wilting fans ahead of me decided they couldn't be bothered with the ordeal and abandoned their places. It was thanks to them that I managed to snag one of the last remaining special-edition DVDs. I overheard jealous grumbling from a couple standing a few places behind me who had to make do with the standard version.

Clutching my precious DVD, I allowed myself to eavesdrop on the signing desk. It consisted of Nick Frost, Edgar Wright (the co-writer and director), Lucy Davis and Simon Pegg. I noticed that, almost without exception, every signee was asking for the same "To XXXXX, best wishes..." platitudes. The boredom etched onto each of the stars’ faces was plain to see. I resolved to give them something entertaining to write on my copy.

To keep us amused while we waited, there were several 'zombies' shambling around the store, many of whom I recognised as extras from the movie itself. They refused to break character, playing along with the crowd. It was a nice touch, and it sparked my brain into coming up with the perfect message for my DVD. I started wobbling with gleeful anticipation at my cleverness.

The clock ticked over the 7:30 mark and only a few stragglers remained behind me in the store, the doors now closed. As I approached the signing table, Pegg clocked me and gave me a nod of recognition. This almost made me wee with excitement, he actually remembered me!

Nick Frost was first. His hair was much longer than in the film and he was wearing glasses, looking rather sophisticated compared to the slob he plays. He spoke eloquently and seemed humbled to see so many fans turn up. I introduced myself, shook him firmly by the hand and had a little chat about his day. He admitted to being a bit jaded from the monotony of the signings. I said “could you write something from the film for me on the back?”. He laughed; the others looked round and smiled. “Makes a pleasant change, nice idea”, agreed Frost.

I told him quietly what I wanted him to write, but to my horror he looked shocked. He peered up over his glasses and told me “everyone thinks I’m a sweary pikey, thanks to SotD, but I hate swearing!" Bugger, I’d upset him. He started writing my message anyway, but he was glowing with embarrassment. Realising I suddenly had a perfect opportunity, I spluttered out “Nick, you’ve got red on you”. The others turned to see Frost’s bright red face and laughed. Happily, he chuckled too. It was enough to break the ice and he finished writing the message:

“Can I sign… any of you CUNTS… a DVD?” --Nick Frost

I thanked him and moved on to Edgar Wright, of whom I knew almost nothing. Wright was the creative force of the film but he doesn’t play a part himself. He seemed unusually wired after reading Frost’s contribution and started scribbling before I even had a chance to ask:

“FUCK THE MAN!” --Edgar Wright

I couldn’t recall the line and looked blankly at him. He detected my confusion and excitedly reminded me “That’s my favourite line! It’s the bit where the Sky News anchor is warning about the danger and Shaun wants to leave the house and Ed says “…but the man said…” and Shaun goes “FUCK THE MAN!”." I nodded appreciatively, a little scared of how enthusiastic anybody could be about that particular line and moved on to Lucy Davis.

She read the other two messages, giggled but looked a little stumped. “I can’t remember any good lines from Diane” (her character) she muttered. “Just write whatever you want” I replied, smiling and probably winking a little bit too. She had a saucy demeanour that just brings it out in me:

(I remembered Lucy's message incorrectly so I've edited it, forgive me, it's been over two years since I last set eyes upon this DVD)

“[chart cat] Sexy x” --Lucy Davis

Pleased with that result, I moved on to the final member of the signing table, Mr Simon Pegg himself. He greeted me auspiciously with lots of eye contact. “I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” he enquired. I was surprised he’d remembered at all so I recapped our previous encounters. “I’ve got the perfect line from the film” he said, with a twinkle in his eye:

“[chart cat]… the next time I see you, you’re DEAD” --Simon Pegg

Mission accomplished, I thanked them all again and left the store skipping down the street.

…but not before asking Nick Frost to add the words “Cock it!” to the disc itself, which he did … reluctantly.

EDIT: Here it is... I guess my secret identity is now blown, too.


( chart cat has an itch, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 5:43, 14 replies)

My brother
Back when I was a youngster my eldest brother was my hero. He was so cool with his black clothes, crimped hair, eyeliner, skinny jeans and biker jacket. I looked up to him and emulated his taste in music, clothes and make-up. This led me to becoming a mini-goth and, having access to my brother's music collection, I became a huge fan of The Cure, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Cult, Sisters of Mercy etc.

As I was still too young to go to gigs I used to stay up late when Drew went out, eagerly awaiting his return so I could question him and try to get an idea of what it was like to see a live band (what songs did they play? how close did you get? did you get to meet them?). He'd always have great stories about the ingenious ways he'd find to blag his way in for free and get backstage to meet the band, and he would always come home with some kind of souvenir, a towel, a setlist, a plectrum, which I would take in my little hands and shiver in awe at the greatness of holding such a valued item that only hours before had been in the hands of the gods. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to start going to gigs.

Fast forward a few years and I was finally old enough (well, I was 15 but could easily pass for over 18 if I applied enough of the old warpaint) and one of my favourites, The Cure, were coming to play in the Glasgow Barrowlands. We lived about 20 miles from there and I knew I would never be allowed to go to the big smoke on my own so I begged and pleaded for my brother to take me. Thing was, it was sold out by the time I heard about it and we had no money for tickets even if we had known earlier but a minor detail like that wasn't going to stop us.

On the afternoon of the gig Drew and I jumped the train to Glasgow and made our way to the Barras to see if there was some way we could blag our way in with the roadies. There were already loads of people queueing outside and there were a lot of security around that hindered our attempts to sneak in through the back door. We asked quite a few roadies but it seems we weren't the first to ask and they were unable to help anyway, they were under strict instructions not to let in the riff raff. I was disappointed to say the least but Drew wasn't disheartened, we went and got a bottle of cider and hung around outside the venue waiting for a miracle.

Several hours later and almost opening time we wandered up and down the (by now round the block) queue asking if anyone had spare tickets and wanted to take pity on us but to no avail. At this point the tour bus pulled up outside the main door and a dozen huge security guards formed a guard of honour between the bus door and the venue, holding back the screaming fans who'd just realised they were about to get their first glimpse of Robert Smith in the flesh.

I was trying to squeeze through the crowd with Drew so I could lay my own eyes on my hero when I suddenly lost Drew. A bit panicked in the crushing mob, I frantically scanned the faces around me and then I spotted him. My jammy brother had somehow managed to push through the security straight into the path of Robert Smith. I was dumbstruck! How the hell did he manage that? Being the cool individual that he his, my bro put out his hand and said "Hi Mr Smith, my sister and I couldn't get tickets for the gig, don't suppose you could put us on your guest list?"

Robert Smith asked his name and reached into his coat pocket. He brought out an envelope which he autographed and handed to my brother before pushing him aside and entering the venue. When Drew finally made his way through the security and back to my side he opened the envelope.

Inside were 2 tickets for the gig.

Length? he was pretty short actually...
(antigen is running away from something, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 5:02, 3 replies)

Again when I was a wee little Vampyrekitten
with lots of curly curly ringlets and bouncy bouncy jelly shoes (well I was a bouncy kid but I digress).

I LOVED Humphrey B Bear. Now I don't know if you brits have him but he is TOPS for a little kid. He was the bees knees, the big Kahuna, he was The man
All in all, he was a pretty cool six foot tall brown bear in a check waistcoat with a straw hat and a lovely big bow tie. He looked like this. I thought he was very very tops. He was a mute but I didn't care.

I had my own Humphrey B Bear toy and everything!

So one day, there's me, a wee little vampyrekitten, playing with my Humphrey B Bear and my "The Wiggles Big Red Car", and mum comes in all excited.
"Vampyrekitten! You'll never guess who I saw at the shops today!"
Indeed I did not have the faintest clue and told her that.
"Come on! We're going back to the shops!" Said mother. Duly - I picked up my faithful Humphrey B Bear (for he went EVERYWHERE with me) and we walked the half a block to the shops.

And THERE HE WAS.

Humphrey.
HUMPHREY B BEAR was in the shops half a block from MY house! He must have wanted to come say hi to me! He was dancing along to the music. But what was this? Some skinny tart blonde girl was dancing with him and talking to him!

I was crushed. I turned to my mum and cried my little heart out. She picked me up and carried me over, me still sniffling and clutching my toy Humphrey B Bear for all it was worth.

And then Humphrey gave me a balloon and a lollypop AND a hug.

And all was instantly right with the world.
(Poppet some assembly required., Fri 17 Apr 2009, 4:36, 4 replies)

Floated a Dalek for Mayor of Auckland, NZ
Back in 2007, some friends and I got together to put a bit of silliness into the Auckland Mayoral elections. Dalek Snowden campaigned on the "Exterminate All Life Forms" platform.

And I met Sylvester McCoy at a Doctor Who convention.

And I watched him play the Fool to Sir Ian McKellen's King Lear. Magic.
(Helixdaunting, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 3:42, 1 reply)

My mate
slapped Pritchard from Dirty Sanchez on the nipple while I got crushed in the surge to meet them.

I'm pissed, I'll think of something better tomorrow.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 2:25, Reply)

Unwanted affection.
Just been sat in my local (Scholar/R&R)for those of you acquainted with Sheffield. A good friend has just sang a song on the Karaoke and dedicated it to me.

Hopelessly devoted to you.

Followed by Rich I love you as more than a friend and she is wondering why my head is all over.


B3tan opinions as to what to do would be gratefully appreciated.
(kickstandrich last had sex with your mum/sister/wife/daughter on, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 2:09, 5 replies)

This machine from the factory where I work
makes a terrible humming noise, which sounds like "I love...Throbbing Gristle...I love...SPK...I love...Throbbing Gristle...I love...SPK..."

It's a huge industrial fan.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 1:37, 1 reply)

Erm, Lewis Carroll and Alan Moore!
Part of the decision behind me moving to Guildford was based around Lewis Carroll being buried here! I refuse to read any Terry Pratchett work because he hates Alice In Wonderland!

I would murder for Alan Moore if he asked me. I went to see Watchmen just to be a prick about it! Twice! I'm sure there are people now who hate me for ruining the film for them. But to be honest Snyder did a better job than I ever could have! I also hold a huge love for Batman, part of the reason The Killing Joke gets me so worked up, even now!

Still the stupidest thing I've ever done when it comes to being a stupid fan?

1990 I am 5. Steve Bull is playing for England. My Dad having been at school with him ( a year or two above I think ) takes me to a poster signing at a sports shop somewhere, the details escape me. My Dad walks in with me and says

"Alright Bully?"

To which he replies "Alright Paul!"

I'm shocked, Steve Bull the legend, the hero to my tiny five year old head. Do I go into shock? No, I speak to my hero, he's just flesh and blood like me!

"My Dad said he used to play football with you"

Bully looks at me and smiles

"He did, we used to play at school"

People in the queue look at my Dad and roll their eyes, Bully blushes a little but keeps smiling.

"And he used to beat you!"

Bully bursts out laughing, my Dad shuffles nervously and the queue giggle like children.

As punishment he kept my signed poster and put it up on his wall, but to be honest I think he'd have done that even if I'd kept my big mouth shut!
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 1:26, 1 reply)

Sir David
I'm a big fan of Sir David Attenborough, and I *nearly* met him whilst I was working in a lab at the university of Exeter. Kinda glad I didn't in the end, because I would only have said something completely brain-dead like "Hello, I love butterflies too!"

Two friends did get to meet him, although I think the opportunity was wasted on them a little. Diane seemed to be more excited about there being free Waitrose biscuits on offer, whilst Baddur (from Pakistan) didn't even know who David Attenborough was.
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 0:59, Reply)

Eartha Kitt

City Varieties, Leeds, and she deigned to drink with us mere mortals in the upstairs bar after the show.

The then Mr Thirsty and I were due at a fetish night later, and I was wearing a rubber vest. It caught her eye. Thinking on my feet, I borrowed some lipstick and asked Ms Kitt to autograph my vest with it.

She looked at me from head to foot and growled "stupid boy".

Never mind the words. I got my own personal growl from Eartha, and my feet didn't touch the ground for days.
( thirsty a rare visitor these days, Fri 17 Apr 2009, 0:34, Reply)

Anyone remember the Newcastle United fan...
... who got a huge tattoo on his thigh of the club's then centre forward who had scored a hatful of goals to get them promoted to the Premiership back in the early 90s?

Tattoo got finished the same week that his hero - Andy Cole - was sold to Man United, presumably provoking much LOLs in Sunderland and elsewhere and getting the hapless fan a spot on the 'And Finally...' bit on the news...
(Capo, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:50, Reply)

I'm not a huge fan, but anything to impress a girl, eh?
Went with a pal who I quite fancied a few years ago to a Lostprophets gig. My little brother was in tow and said "You know, they're doing a singing tomorrow at HMV, opening at 7am."

Jokingly I said, HEY let's go camp out after the gig and be first in line?

Immediate response was rather scary.

We trekked to Oxford St from Wembley at about 11pm/midnight and sat tight for a while, getting colder and colder and hungrier and hungrier.

Empty water bottles do not a good pillow make. By 3am I was pretty much resigned to not sleeping for fear of being mugged, seeing as we had camped in an alley next to HMV.

The hour arrives, we get in first, get a wristband and the signing is in the evening(!)

Go home, absolutely stinking of piss from laying in an alley in fuck knows what else for hours. Have a shower, go back up after a nap, and meet the lads.

For all of 3 seconds.

The moral of this story: Laying down in an alley is not the horniest thing you can do. Buy her some flowers or something instead.
( McBadger COW, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:37, Reply)

Back in the day...
... I was a bit of a punk, parents used to despair when they'd see me leave the house wearing the full get-up including biker jacket festooned with badges, studs and, of course, the names of some of my favourite bands painted on it (naturally using the fonts and styles those bands used on their sleeve artwork etc).

One of these was a band that I'd seen live a good few times and I'd become pretty good mates with the guitarist at the time (other than the lead singer the band line-up changed regularly).

On one occasion, and only once, I made the mistake of wearing it to go along to watch my team, Arsenal, play.

Not the cleverest idea in the world to stand on the North Bank Highbury with a jacket with the word 'Chelsea' (for that was the band) written on it...
(Capo, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:30, Reply)

The most overrated episode of being star struck
It was the late nineties and I had only recently become an adult. So much so that the wallet in my pocket wasn't like the leather Pierre Cardin one I have today but rather a blue nylon velcro thing with St Johnstone logos plastered all over it.

For my sins I am a fan of Perth's finest: St Johnstone Football Club. After missing promotion by one or two places for the last 4 years it looks like, fingers crossed, we're finally going to be promoted back to the SPL this year.

But back in the late nineties though St Johnstone were a different proposition. We weren't just an SPL team, we were a very successful SPL team. One season we finished third behind Rangers and Celtic the highest position possible for a true Scottish football club and we were briefly in the UEFA cup before being knocked out by the mighty French team Monaco.

As reward for an impressive run in the Scottish Cup, the team were sent for a relaxing couple of days to the luxurious 5-star Old Course Hotel in St Andrews to enjoy the home of golf. For me though St Andrews was a much simpler place, it was where I went to uni and it was where I worked in a small convenience store in the town centre open until 11 at night.

It was an evening as any other working the Thursday shift until a group of loud, jokey guys got to the front of the queue.

You know that look you have when you see someone and you're in shock? Your face goes numb and you find it hard to move your mouth to make coherent sentences. That happened to me. I was face to face with Roddy Grant.

I simply couldn't speak and yet there was Roddy and Callum Davidson and a few others I didn't recognise all laughing, joking and asking me questions and making insults against each other to me. What a great bunch of guys. Notable purchases were a cheap 2L bottle of lemonade, a couple of porn mags and 20 Marlboro Lights *tsk tsk* no wonder they lost to the Hun in the semis.

By the time they'd paid for their purchases and were about to leave I'd nearly recovered my powers of communication.

"Wait. I mean, er, could you...?"

I reached in my pocket for the St Johnstone wallet. How precious and valuable would that little velcro item be after having been signed by all those players, especially the legend that was Roddy Grant? But it wasn't there! Of course not, I'd left it in the staff room where it had to be kept on company orders.

"Nothing, erm bye."

To this day I still regret not even wishing them good luck in their cup tie or at the very least telling them I was a Saints fan. God knows what kind of wreck I'd be if I ever bumped into Chris Morris, Jerry Cantrell, Vince Clarke, Andy Bell, Martin L. Gore or the ludicrously talented Wendy Hurrell. Curse her, leaving East Anglia to go to London *shakes fist*
( djtrialprice, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:16, 12 replies)

:)
I'm my biggest fan......


No seriously... I am :)
(urbanbushmonkey, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:14, 3 replies)

Deano
He met Tony Mortimer out of East 17 in the street and asked for his autograph. On receipt of said item, looked dissapointed.
Said he, "Sorry mate, you can have that back, I thought you were Dennis Wise"

EDIT: I always thought this was really funny, but they don't even look the same really
(Snake (on a) Crane FKA thwack, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:08, Reply)

Stewart Lee
I think he is funny and I was always a big fan of all the stuff I had seen, so when I realised he was playing the Melbourne comedy festival, I was pleased because I would have the chance to go see him. Surprisingly, he came into the bar I was working in (Y&J's FYI) to see the weekly comedy show.
I was clearing tables, removing glasses, refreshing ashtrays.

I told him how I'd been a fan for years and it was great to meet him, and how I was looking forward to his show. Apparently I couldn't be heard and he asked me to repeat, and asked me for an ashtray.

It was terribly awkward and surprisingly, not in the least bit witty, satirical or funny. I think i did his head in a bit. Since that moment I decided to leave famous people alone.

Sorry for not being funny or interesting. Stewart Lee is both, however.
(Snake (on a) Crane FKA thwack, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 23:04, 7 replies)

queued ...
...in the bookshop, got the Author to sign my copy of his book.

Ex Tractor Fan story omitted as requested.
(Rich T has a clever and witty sig, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 22:56, Reply)

Not really THAT much a fan...
...but I'll tell the story anyway, as it's come up in conversation a couple of times recently.

I think my sons were about eight and nine at the time. I'm not sure why I didn't have my daughter with me, but for some reason it was just the boys and I that day. We had season passes, so we went up to Paramount's Kings Dominion for the day. (This place.)

We got there and rode a few roller coasters and such and were generally having fun, when I spotted what appeared to be Lieutenant Warf standing to one side in full uniform. I stared for a moment and he smiled and boomed "Would you like a picture with me?" in a basso profundo voice.

I approached, goggle-eyed boys in tow. "Well, normally yes, but I don't have a camera with me." I inspected him closely and lowered my voice. "Damn but they did an incredible job on the costume! Your makeup is fantastic!"

He grinned, and at that moment a pair of Romulans, one male and one female, approached from behind my sons. The male put a hand on each boy's shoulder, causing them to turn and squeak in shock. I grinned and said, "Come now, boys, show the Romulan captain some respect."

The Romulan smiled faintly. "It's Commander, but thank you... I have to ask, why doesn't your government want to talk to me? Don't they realize that I have five quantum torpedoes pointed at this planet at every moment? At any time I could put in an order and render the surface uninhabitable-"

I interrupted his speech. "Whoa, Commander. Hang on. You want to know what the problem is here? You're not happy enough."

Silence.

"Come, I'll teach you to be happy!" And I began singing the "Happy Happy Joy Joy" song from Ren & Stimpy and dancing.

The twenty year old kid in his costume looked like he was having a bad acid flashback, the girl kinda backed up like she thought I was going to get violent, and the Klingon was trying very hard to choke back the giggles. The boys utterly cracked up as their father danced around a circle, pretending to butt-bump an invisible partner.

After a thorough blue-screening, the Romulan spluttered, "Stop! Now! Go away! You're evil!" and stalked off, leaving the Klingon with tears running down his face as he struggled to regain composure.

We had a great time on the roller coasters, but it was kind of anticlimactic after that.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 16 Apr 2009, 22:52, 8 replies)

I asked the person whom has always been my hero to marry me
...she said yes, and we're getting hitched tomorrow (17/4/09)
( smokey bobinson westing by musket and sexton, Thu 16 Apr 2009, 22:34, 10 replies)

Not me.... but my sister.....
My sister has always been a helpful person, so, when she saw someone looking lost on the streets of out local town, offered to help out. She takes him where he's heading to (some slightly upmarket bar place), they get chatting, and he mentions that he's going to be on the Top of the Pops thats on telly that afternoon.

Now this was a fair few years ago, and my sister was into various pop, including Savage Garden (who I even grudgingly admitted were not too bad). Darran Hayes, one of the members, had just changed style from being rather long haired to short haired, and looking completely different in the process.

You can see where this is going.

She watches, being somewhat taken by this random person she met (though he was a fair bit older), is somewhat dissapointed when she can't see him in the crowd for the first few songs.

Then Savage Garden come on.


I could hear the shriek from the attic.



Hope she's not on b3ta
( Tedium Alduce me to interlow myself., Thu 16 Apr 2009, 22:33, 4 replies)