Gerry Adams
Met him in a local easons doing a book signing. Shook his hand and he signed a book for me. Didn't buy the book though, put back on the shelf.

Nice man, alot more hairy than i thought.

Not every day you meet an ex-IRA commander...
(Komsomol, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 9:30, 14 replies)

My mum
and her friend, in the 1960s, found out where Cliff Richard lived and so called at his house. He had a nice chat with them, didn't mention tennis or Jesus and didn't invite them in for a sexy time despite my mum being very pretty. Must be gay then.

My aunty, around the same time, threw her undies at Tom Jones when he was playing in Luton (I think). In those days, that would have been considered not unusual. Tsk Boom.

Edit: my mum also got backstage at a concert once and caught a glimpse of Jimmy Saville in the nuddy. She was also chatted up by one of the Barron Knights and sat on his knee.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 9:16, Reply)

Sharon Small
I once sat for 30 minutes in the Ha Ha Bar in Sheffield watching Sharon Small eat her meal, God she is stunning anyone else love her
(SWD, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 9:01, Reply)

Bounty Hunting
I flew from Canada to Hawaii to see Dog the Bounty Hunter. stood outside Da Kine Bail Bonds, took pictures and waited around hoping he'd show up. He didnt. The next day I went back. Good thing theres other stuff to do in Hawaii because I never got to see him. Maybe i'll have to become a criminal and apply for a bail bond then miss bail so that he comes after me.
(ChristinaBug, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 2:14, Reply)

Charlie Brooker
Who else has emailed him with drunken TV format suggestions?
(bagpuss606, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 1:50, 11 replies)

eh
why has this turned into "someone I once saw".

Anyway, for the record, Keith Chegwin, York Railway Station, 1984.

Oh, and sucked off a lad from Grange Hill once when I was 11. What? You'd have done it. Its just skin.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 1:28, Reply)

My Missus' Mum
So, the mother-in-law, is a big fan of Teh Quo. Particularly Francis Rossi.

They tour through a venue I work at each year, and the m-i-l was bemoaning the fact it'd sold out and she couldn't get tickets for it for said year.

As I'm stood on stage, Rossi walks past me, and whilst he's talking to one of the touring crew, I say to him "Eyup Mr Rossi, would it be possible for you to do me a quick favour?". He looks me up and down, and says to the touring crew "Fucking hell, he's got big balls. Yes fella, what can I do you for?". I ring the m-i-l, who then has a five minute conversation with him, which included such gems as:

Her: "shadyron says I've got to talk to you, but he's not said who you are."
Him: "He seems like a good lad. I'm just staying in for a few days".
Her: "Are you enjoying it here? I know your voice, but I just can't put my finger on it..."
Him: "Yeah, we're staying at the Hotel. We've been down to the beach, been on the pier, it's a very nice place here"
Her: "Well, thank you for speaking to me..."

Top bloke. Thoroughly entertaining listening to the one side of the conversation, even if he did look bored rigid. Even now, I don't think she still quite believes that it was Francis on the other end of the phone.
( shadyron, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 0:18, Reply)

Champions League 2005
Liverpool are celebrating their victory over AC Milan by doing a tour of the city in an open-top bus. The route passed about half a mile from where my BIL lives near the Jolly Miller pub so I went along with my wife's family. We waited for a couple of hours, the atmosphere was great and everyone was happy and cracking jokes and laughing. Eventually, the bus arrives and the crowd swells towards it - there must have been a few thousand people were we were. We can see Gerrard and Carragher at the front, trophy proudly held aloft and everyone is cheering. As the bus draws level with me an urge comes into my head:
"RAFA!" I yelled.
Rafa Benitez was in the middle of a TV interview and was speaking to an interviewer and camera. Despite this, he stopped, looked straight at me for half a second and then turned away and carried on with the interview.

To this day, I'm still baffled but flattered by the whole thing. Surely the entire length of the journey the players and management team must have had their names yelled out, but in a crowd of several thousand people, Rafa suddenly thought my voice sounded like someone he knew and was worth looking down off the bus for? Either ways, I hope one day I'll see the interview he was doing and will be able to say: "I derailed his train of thought just then! That's me yelling in the background!"
(Hagis, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 0:14, 2 replies)

i heard this on a messageboard for a band
apparently while at a gig someone got spat on by the singer... one girl then licked it off this persons shoulder because apparently it would be like "having a part of him inside me"

obviously not the part she wanted like but beggars can't be choosers i suppose.
though why you'd worship someone who spits on people in the first place is beyond me.

.
(stitched, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 23:25, 2 replies)

well
I know that Hugh Laurie has no big toe nails, from first-hand experience.
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 23:05, 4 replies)

I'm your biggest fan
Dear French White Wine,

I'm your biggest fan.

I don't care for the Austraillalian kind - far too high in alcholh and therefore makes me vomit rather quickly. No one likes a gal who speaks to the big white telephone on the phoen to God.

Bugger.

Not that wine has anything to do with that.

Although it has. In the past.

Ahem.

Yes, wine.

Wine, I love you, yes I do.

But only the French stuff becasue it's like cat's piss on a weak night.

And I'm a cheap date that only requires a couple of glasses.

I was once told (about sherry, as it was) that with one glass one felt under the weather.

Two glasses and one was under the table.

Three glasses and one was under the boss.

I'll add another one to that...

Four glasses and udner anyone.

Five glasses and on the floor, head down loo and waiting to die.

Now I'm jsut hoping that some kind mountain biker has made up the bed so I can pole dance around it and then colaspe in a drunkedn heap.


White wine, I love you.

From

Your biggest fan,

Chickenlady.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 23:03, 4 replies)

When i was 16
My auntie held quite a senior position at a very famous London department store, managed to get me 2 weeks work experience. Coming from a small town in the midlands the thought of working in London was the most exciting thing to ever have happened to me.

This store hadn't had any work experience people working there before so I was like 'the new kid' and was shown all sorts of brilliant things and also given info when a celebrity was in the store.

I would get a call to my office with the location of a celebrity then race through the secret back corridors to said location.

One day I got a call telling me Robbie Williams was in the store. As a 16 year old girl I was so excited, I was a massive Robbie fan at the time (this is quite hard to admit). The location given was 'the pharmacy'. I ran so fast to get there, I popped out of the secret door and saw him wandering up to the counter to purchase some items. I wondered how I could get closer to him without alerting his attention. I grabbed a pocket pack of tissues off a shelf and stood behind him in the queue. I couldn't believe it, Robbie Williams was less than 30cms from me, oh my god!!!! I couldn't believe it, I was just wishing my friends could see me!

I was sweating I was so nervous. He then stepped up to the counter to purchase his items but also started asking for some information from the pharmasist. The following conversation he had with the pharmasist changed my whole perception of celebrity in the space of one minute.

"I need some help, I keep shitting myself everywhere I go, I keep shitting in my hotel room and just covering the bed with my runny shit, I had a girl with me last night and she woke up covered in my shit, please can you give me something to stop me shitting?'

Instant dissapointment and disgust at this now small little man from stoke standing in front of me. All mystery and celebrity aura had vanished. He then turned round and shouted at his mate Jonathan Wilkes

" Get some jonnies in for tonight mate"

And that is how Robbie Williams smashed my teenage idolisation of all celebrities, they all shit and all of it stinks!
(laplaplap if you buy me a gift don't ask for it back, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 22:22, 2 replies)

I’ve shown my devotion to Garbage through my choice of username
I doubt anybody can top that.
( GarbageFan didn't know what to have as a board sig on, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 21:36, 11 replies)

As Im living
in Stratford upon Avon, being Shakespeares birthplace an all, attracts alot of the actory types.

Such as one time, whilst walking down the waterside, Patrick Stewart walked past.

The bloke who played Uncle Vernon on the Harry Potter movies lives just down the road from us.

The bloke who played the caretaker on Harry Potter movies (can't remember his name for shit) often pops into our shop.

oh and a lot of the kiddy programs are/we're filmed round here too, like Rosie and Jim because of the vast amounts of canals, also teletubby land is actually a small village just outside of Stratford.
(Lord Chode, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 21:15, 1 reply)

Tony..
The one from Hollyoaks - Jon Picard is it.? Well he turned up in our shop (the big one with the catalogue, you know). Was continuously on his phone the whole time in the till queue, was served by a girl who had no idea who he was then headed to collection...

...where he was bombarded on the PA system by my little goth mate Dave shouting "TOOONNY, TOOOONNNYNYYYY" until his throat bled. Arf.

Oh and I bumped into Norman Wisdom in Smiths one day... was sorely disappointed because he didn't throw himself to the ground and laugh stupidly like I half expected him to.

And finally...

Roy Walker (him off Catchphrase) and Frank "It's the way I tell 'em" Carson wandered into the shop to buy a dehumidifier for their hotel room.! Frank gave me a bollocking because my female boss wouldn't let me carry it for them and I looked like an unhelpful twat (he was only kidding obviously) and then they started answering the customer phone. Jolly lovely guys and genuinely hilarious as well.

(and my personal claim to fame.? my girlfriends Uncle is Gary Moore (from Thin Lizzy).
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 20:52, 2 replies)

I try not to do the "creepy fan routine"
but when I was on the same plane as Hugh Laurie I had to prevent myself from spending the entire trip staring at him. Hugh Laurrrrrie! He's like Stephen Fry, but with even more awesomeness.

I've got Bill Nye the Science Guy's signature too.
(TheWonderfulWombat It came to me in a dream., Sat 18 Apr 2009, 20:28, 2 replies)

I think the only person I can think of who I would genuinely get giddy and genflective about would be Stephen Fry,
the man is Google in human form with added finesse and charm, lets face it, you could never be bored in the company of that man...
( ..wil, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 19:29, 4 replies)

In a recurring theme
another of my friends had a vaguely sexual experience with a celebrity.

He was drinking at the Oxford Union, when who should walk in but John Sessions, legendary polymath and general man of knowledge. Stephen Fry, but less.

So, this being the Oxford Union, the patrons of the bar fall about in paroxysms of hero worshipping nervousness. As it happens, my friend controls himself, has a pleasant conversation with Mr Sessions, and indeed the two become such fast friends that they exchange numbers.

They meet up again and have a few pints at one of the more expensive hotel bars in Oxford (the Randolph, for those who know.)

All this is regaled to us with the smug air of someone who has a celebrity mate because they're cool enough to not be intimidated by them. They're such fast friends that he was even invited to the Groucho Club down in London.

We listened to this story of male bonding with initially excitement, respect, and then gradually amusement. Eventually, by the time the invite down to London was mentioned, we were practically doubled over with laughter.

"You do realise of course, that John Sessions is gay, and that he may have taken a liking to you"

"No no, he's not gay, he just bought me a few drinks"

"No, seriously, he's gay"

"Oh, so he wasn't just being friendly?"

"I think the term is 'grooming'"

He never went to the Groucho club.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 18:57, 2 replies)

My friend
is a massive music fan, she goes to a ridiculous number of gigs, she buys a CD almost every week.

When she was a young 'un, we're talking about 14 here, she went to a Blur gig.

She bops along, has a blast, listens to some of the best Britpop ever made, and then, Damon Albarn comes down off the stage, he's wandering along the area in front of the railings, touching hands, singing about charmless men.

My friend is one of those people who always wants to be as close to the action as possible, she's right at the railing, waiting for Albarn to reach her section. She's hardly the lankiest of people, and when she stretches out as far as she can, she still can't reach the scruffy one. So, cunningly, she retreats briefly, and then lunges forward, hoping to get a fleeting touch of her hero. Just as she does this, he takes a step forward, and her hand meets him.

My friend groped Damon Albarn's cock.

Or to put it another way, Damon Albarn lets himself get felt up by underaged girls.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 17:57, Reply)

Mike Patton
Went to see Guns and Roses years ago and Faith No More were the support along with Soundgarden. I am a huge fan of Mike Patton and as we neared the stadium a bus pulled up beside us and some inebriated long haired blokes reeled off it...To my amazement it was Faith No More. I decided to take a chance and ran up to Mike Patton and said "Giz a kiss!!" Next thing I know I have a hand on my arse and a tongue down my throat.......I am still reeling to this day.....swoon...
(Antizan Doling out the happy pills...., Sat 18 Apr 2009, 15:53, 6 replies)

For my wife's 30th birthday...
I took a razor to my lovely hair and spent far too much money on dungerees. I then blacked up and infront of 200 friends and family in my local pub, appeared as MR T! A true hero!

i18.photobucket.com/albums/b139/Druss_The_Legend/n822215345_6113723_6582794.jpg

:)
( Druss_The_Legend Splurge!, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 15:20, 3 replies)

Jeremy Clarkson and the Marlboro Lights.
Oooh, this has to be better than meeting Fleetwood in The 'Pool I think!

Anyway, it was in November 2007 when I was granted access to the mythical Top Gear studio down in Godalming, the deep heart of Surrey.

I approached this day with great trepidation as I'd heard all kinds of stories about Clarkson being a twat to people etc, and wasn't even sure it was gonna be a good'un. I needed not have been worried though, as between a lot of swearing between the presenters, and a lot of waiting about we had the obligatory tea break half way between filming. Basically it involved a lot of eating free crisps, smoking, drinking tea and waiting for the presenters to make an appearance. Cue half an hour of solid bodily abuse, and Clarkson makes an appearance and the first thing I thought wasn't 'man alive, he's a tall bloke' it was more 'fuck me, he looks ancient' - if any of you have met him, I'm sure you'll agree! I walked up to him, and said "Hi", he said "Hey, what can I do for you?". I whip out a packet of Marlboro Lights and said "you couldn't sign these, could you?" to which he replies "Hang on mate, I need to get a pen and you know it's gonna cost you?". Now I'm thinking that all my childhood dreams of meeting him are gonna be shattered and he's gonna start being a twunt. But no, I asked him how much and to my surprise he said "Can I have a fag, please?" took one, lit it, went off to get a pen, came back and signed the little gold and white box! Job done!

Length? I'm not sure. The fag was a few inches, and he's tall!
(Mr. Cunt put the indy in kindy., Sat 18 Apr 2009, 15:09, Reply)

I didn't go anywhere
they came to me.

I was working in Waterstone's in Islington as a summer job in 2003. Among others I served Nick Hornby and Alan Davies, but the highlight of that summer was another occasion.

It's a busy Saturday and I am running around like a blue-assed fly trying to sort everything and serve customers at the same time, and it's getting me a little irritated.

Mind you, even when I am irritated, I'm still irritatingly polite.

Anyway, I am rummaging behind the front till looking for an order form or something. My colleague to my left is serving a man and his wife, and in the queue behind them is a rather pretty girl.

I stop looking for the order form and make myself available for service while looking inquiringly in her direction, you know, the way you do when you want to attract someone's attention without actually saying anything.

She doesn't come over, so I call out "Hi, can I help you?". She really is rather pretty, in a very short skirt with milky-white, slender legs, curly brown hair and a quintessentially English face.

She looks up with amazement, then realisation, and says in the exact voice I have heard a thousand times, "Oh no, don't worry, I'm just waiting".

I get that shiver. You know, the one where you realise something just a minute too late.

It's fucking Hermione. It's only sodding Hermione Grainger. The under-age, completely illegal Emma Watson. And those two buying books to my left are her parents.

My brain struggles desperately to marry the concepts of Famous Person + Very Pretty Girl + Way Way Underage & Therefore Totally, Utterly Completely Wrong.

It fails and I instead self-flagellate later to get rid of the unclean thoughts that are still coursing through my head.

She was 13. Oh god.
(cypherspace is not a toaster, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 14:08, Reply)

Chris Moyles
*So i kinda misread the question so heres my second go*

I used to listen to the Chris Moyles show every day during work (i say used to because im not in UK atm). He had a book coming out and he was doing a book signing, and i really wanted to go. The day he was in my town (birmingham) i was at work till 5pm, and the book signing started at 5, grr!

So on the day, i begged my boss to let me go early and she could only do 3pm, so i said that was fine. But i feared ild be at the back of the queue. 3pm arrived and im getting excited. I didnt have time to get changed or do my hair and make up, and i ran to the bookstore. Got there to find no queue at all except a couple who had been waiting since 1pm.
4pm arrives and still not many ppl around queing, but we know its the right day. 5pm, Chris is late. 5.30pm some local media arrive, one asks if im from Wolverhampton (no) so they chose the group behind me.
We are slowly showed in to the book store and a man asks me "you from around here" i say yes. "He says good im from the Evening Mail".
:o
Shit shit shit, i look a mess and he wants me to be in the local paper. He reassures me that theres a chance it wont go in the paper.

Chris arrives and i record a little video and scream (i have the video somewhere of me laughing/screetching at his entrance), chaos starts as the media want to get in with the first few ppl to get their photos.

My turn, eek. Im quite scared but also a little starstruck. I told him i hated Gingers too (the time when he called Nicola Roberts a minger) and he laughed and said good on you. Evening Mail guy wants his pic, so i put my arm around chris and he doesnt mind. I pose as best i can, give my details to the paper man and go.

At my dinner break the next day, i go to buy the local newspaper. Quickly scanning the pages for the picture, and there it is, me and Chris Moyles on Page 2! I cant believe it, my mug with no makeup and crap hair actually makes the cut! I buy 5 copies.

i41.tinypic.com/fkxthi.jpg

Few days after, i had a few old people asking if it was me in the paper, i admit i felt famous for 5 minutes :p

Length? 2.5hrs waiting time, 2hrs overtime at work.
Getting my picture on page 2 of the local, priceless :)


I've also met Rik Mayall, funniest guy ive ever met. His facial expressions are the same he did on 'Bottom'. Pic: i39.tinypic.com/3445di1.jpg
(again excuse my mess, work sucks :( ) But least i got to sit on his lap!
(circle, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 13:58, 6 replies)

Apart from...
...failing to meet Nik Kershaw

I have a problem finding answers to this weeks question.

Largely because the vast, vast majority of my heroes are...well...dead.

And suicide seems like a slightly extreme length to go to on the off chance that there is an after life that I might get to meet them in.

But here's a role call anyway.

Johnny Cash, Warren Zevon, George Carlin, Eric Morecombe, Douglas Adams, Richard Harris, Mitch Hedberg, Gram Parsons, Nick Drake, Richard Pryor, Sam Kinnison, Waylon Jennings, Woodie Guthrie, Ronnie Barker, Spike Milligan and Peter Sellers, Brian Clough, Bill Hicks, Bobby Moore, Uncle Chris (I met him, but he died while I was very young, but I remember loving him), Will Eisner, Jack Kirby, Tommy Cooper, Bob Monkhouse, Townes Van Zandt, George Best, Paul Gascoigne (OK, but it's only a matter of time folks), Stanley Kubrick, Del Close, Buddy Holly, Presley and Lennon and Sinatra (yes, all three are allowed in the same breath), And Granddad, who gets in despite dying before I was born because he fathered my Dad, the most stabilising influence in my life...


Fuck, that list makes me look like a sexist pig. Not a woman in sight.

I can save that slightly by naming the only two living people that I can think of that I would go to any lengths to meet:

Steve Earle and Emmylou Harris.

(Carl Hiassen would have been the third person on that list, but I was lucky enough to be on holiday in Miami while he was doing a book signing. He is an utter utter....c...charming man. I wanted to have a sex change and have his babies)
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 13:30, 2 replies)

This should've gone in last week's, sorry,
but it's too good not to share.

A lad my daughter was at school with - they're now in their 20s - got in a fight last year and most of his nose was bitten off.

Now he's had plastic surgery and happily goes clubbing with his new prosthetic nose, which glows white under the UV light.

Makes him easy to pick out...
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 13:13, 4 replies)

Play?
I don't really look like Moby. Ok, I'm bald, pasty and could at times have been described as scrawny, but that's as far as the likeness goes. In the eyes of some, however, I am he. Indeed, my user name came about at Uni as a result of these occasional embarrassments, coupled with my propensity to act in such a manner that school children might cry "Joey" at.

For example, one day out record shopping on London's Berwick Street I passed a Japanese fella on my way out of a shop, nodded hello, as I'm a friendly chap, and carried on in my own absent minded way.

Moments later I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs behind me and felt an eager tap on my shoulder. I turned cautiously, needlessly worried that I might accidentally have forgotten to pay for the records in the bag I'd quite obviously just been given to carry the records I'd just bought, to see the very same punter grinning at me and offering a hand to shake.

"Hi" he sputtered, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Um, hello?" I offered in response.

"So nice to meet you" is how I remember his next sentence.

"Likewise" I retaliated, with growing confusion.

Then he launched into an garbled monologue about his love of my music, while I grinned and nodded appropriately.

It's worth mentioning that I am a musician of sorts, had not long released a CD (not with much success, but some people, of the type that may frequent record shops around Berwick Street, had bought it) and I'd played a few gigs around that point, so just thought he was a genuine fan of my music, thus making me grin and nod all the more fervently.

But then he began mentioning albums I had nothing to do with. Albums I wasn't particularly aware of (it's also worth mentioning that I'm not a big fan of the bald vegan and his bland pop) and his mistake became all too obvious; I guess we all look the same to our Oriental chums, particularly those of us who are bald, pasty and scrawny.

"What to do?" asked my brain of itself, "this could be fun".

Do I shatter his illusions of this questionable hero and unleash a diatribe about 'my' hatred of over zealous fans?

Wouldn't it be more proper to thank him profusely and offer an autograph and perhaps some tickets to a gig 'I' might have coming up?

I had no idea what the appropriate behaviour was in these situations, so rather than doing something cool I simply mumbled embarrassed gratitude, shook his hand all too limply and made good my escape before anyone encountered our excruciating exchange.

It's lucky I'm not a famous musician, I'd be rubbish.
( Moey, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 12:49, Reply)

Famous People I have met
(former) King Hussein of Jordan
Jimmy Savile
Mel Gibson
Michael Winner
Dylan Moran
Tim Minchin

And all well nice,normal people*.King Hussein was wonderful,a lovely old man.Jimmy Savile made me cry (but that's another story)...

*Except Mel Gibson,he's a dreadful shit.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Sat 18 Apr 2009, 12:06, 5 replies)

I just met Tim Vine
He's performing at the Melbourne Comedy Festival, where I'm working.

I asked him where Fort Boyard was.

Fail?


(I've also met Sarah Millican, Josie Long, one of the Pajama Men, and various other not very well known comedians. And Janeane Garofalo. She's ace. She said I was cute but too young for her... *sigh*)
(Zutroy started without you, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 11:18, 5 replies)

around the time of
the london mayoral elections, we were all in the pub one saturday night in mayfair. at about 2am, we left the pub and staggered aimlessly about looking for a taxi.

suddenly there was a flash of white blond hair and treble chins and this bike sped past us. my friend kerry's head shot up and she stiffened.

"was that..." she breathed reverently, and the next second she was off. now, ordinarily a drunk girl in high heels has no chance of outrunning a bike, but luckily for kerry, the cyclist had stopped at a red light at the end of the road*.

"waiiiiiit!" she howled as a shoe fell off. surprised, the cyclist turned around as kerry panted up to him.

"I LOVE YOU BORIS!!" she yelled, "I REALLY LOVE YOU BORIS!"

to his credit, boris didn't turn a hair.

"thank you, thank you very much," he purred, and sailed off on his merry way. smooth. you'd think girls say that to bo-jo every day of the week, which i find hard to believe!


* (which legal requirement he is now trying to remove from the law as he seems to think cyclists are above it, but that's a whole different story...)
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sat 18 Apr 2009, 10:43, 6 replies)