Not me but someone i know !!
About 10 years ago I had a mate who was the son of a farmer in the west country and their familly had a semi decent sized farm. Cow, sheep, spuds etc. I wasn't really that interested in all that he was growing in the fields apart from what i was not supposed to scramble over when taking out the motorbikes for a run about !! Noisy bike, Lots of space, lots of mud !! Happy times !!

Now as my mates parents were actually quite well off at the time, they did have some nice equipment and his dad asked if he and I would go to some show to look at some stuff. Some big show with big names in the farming industry or whatever showing off their new bits. Now as i am not a farming lad, i couldn't tell you who the celebrity farming names are as I was only interested in going to shows like that if it were something like the Motorcycle News Show with all the manufacturers and the tasty looking dolly girls and some bike racers floating around. So as this is not my kind of event i initially declined the invite. But then my mate was so keen on going as his dad wasn't i said I would go along for moral support but he could buy the smokes and beer for the train journey.

Suffice to say, that on the 3 hour train journey, and the couple of changeovers, we had a bit too much to smoke of the "homegrown" and quite a few beers, so a bit dazed and bloodshot eyes, but never the less, i though we were both OK, lets put on the sunglasses.

Now as with all shows and his familly was very much into his top bling stuff, we got there and he headed straight to some group surrounding some farming celeb, I still have no chuffing clue who the hell he is but matey seemed to be very happy in meeting him. Me, i just wait in the sidelines checking out some rather buxom farmers daughters. Would it be worth it even if they do have webbed toes??

Now back comes my mate, with a big smile on his face, he has just got some blokes autograph who has the biggest mutton chops i have EVER seen. SO off we go around this show, he's busy looking at stuff, I am slowly getting more bored so we nip outside for some lunch and another sample of the "homegrown"

Now this "homegrown" was rather devilish stuff and rather than making us sleepy, we were just in a funny mood now. So going up to girls and just chatting them up without any thought of any consequences. ie Their boyfriend who makes giant haystacks look like a limp wristed mincer etc but we come away with just a few slapped faces but still smiling.

Then is all starts to get a bit messy !!

Matey is going a bit odd now and starts to stare at things a bit too long. He's lost it !! So we cue up for a coffee, I think 1-2 really strong ones should do the trick. Now this does perk my mate up, but maybe a little too much as I forgot he doesn't drink coffee or tea !!

Off he plods and I lose sight of him. 5 mins later I find him sat on the top of a combine harvester, semi naked, big crowd around him and he's prentending he's driving it !!! Now these places didn't have bouncers but these people who were showing off these machines climbed up and grabbed him off. Now when they were pulling him off, i noticed that they were some of the same mutton chopped faced people he had been cuing up to grab their autographs from. Matey noticed as well and tries to hug them in a very excited and obviously innebriated state but then gets carried out of the building, put next to a wall and hay bale but he then starts to wobble. then half leans on the hay bale. Yup, my mate has shown himself up a treat and is now standing there with his head lolling around like a bladder on a stick !!!

What i hadn't noticed was the 2 girls, both with large buckets of water who were fast approaching him !!

SPLOSH, SPLOSH !!!!! "AAAAAAAAAAAARGH"

now as it was a nice summers day, we had a little walk about and i didn't take him long to dry up, and due to the 2 ice cold buckets of water, he was suitably sobered !! So off we pop down the pub for a cold non alcoholic drink to chill out and contemplate the day.

Now my mate looked like a broken man. He had started the day with a fresh excited face, and now he just looked all sad and depressed. I knew he liked an occasional cigar so I went and bought some from the bloke behind the bar (as you could smoke in pubs back then)

So we have a couple of cigars and the bar has that nice bar room smokey hue (they way pubs SHOULD be !!!! Fucking non smokers ruining our fun !!!)

Now, 1/2 hour later, that mutton chopped man happened to come in the pub with a few of his big mutton chopped faced mates and they get a beer each. They notice me and my mate with our cokes and cigars and he comes over.

"OOO ARRRR, Did you enjoy your wake up call there laddy? you were a bit aaaart of it thaaarre."

Now quick as, my mate takes a long draw on his cigar, then blows a big load of cigar smoke in this blokes face and i saw him getting quite angry !! Matey then stood up, went almost face to face with him then sucked all the smoke away from Mr mutton chops. I was just about to grab matey and run out of the pub but my mate just stood there and said.

"Fuck off, I'm an EX-Tractor fan now"


Length? far too long and far too stoopid !! I am now getting my coat !!!!
(shagbolt, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 9:10, 2 replies)

Some of The People I've Met...
I was there in October 1996, the night that Brix Smith walked out of The Fall for the second time, she gave me her phone number in the dressing room of their support band[*], [shite non-placed indie pretenders The PoppyHeads], at Cheltenham Town Hall.
Managed not to get punched by Mark E.Smith, but came close I think.

I arranged for friends to interview Fish [ex of 80's proggers Marillion] before a gig at the same venue, he was a talkative friendly bloke and they were in awe. He got off the stage and danced with them towards the end of his gig.

Best of all though, I got to interview one of Englands' few living eccentrics, Lady Lucinda Lambton prior to a talk she gave at a literary festival. Known for presenting television programmes on the history of toilets, the contents of victorian curiosity cabinets, and american architecture, as well as being an accomplished photographer. I was studying history at the time, and we must have talked in some depth, for an hour or something. Out of all the notable people I've met - she's deinately the top of the list.

I turned down an opportunity to meet Tori Amos at a book signing though, I think the squee factor would have overwhelmed me.

Apologies for lack of funnies.
(caescarna Hell's Roomba, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 9:05, Reply)

I met Madonna once backstage at one of her gigs.....
....bitch tried to adopt me.

/littleforeignkidblog
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 8:39, Reply)

My mate
Once saw Rutger Hauer in a bar while being very drunk.

He proceeded to walk up to him and to make a very pathetic attempt to quote Rutgar's Blade Runner's speach at him.

Needless to say he failed misrably and was rewarded with a pat on the shoulder and a "Don't give up the day job" before Rutgar walked cooly away.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 8:33, Reply)

Phil Collins
I have always been a Phil Collins fan - since Genesis days. I managed to get tickets to a concert so I stayed in a nice hotel in Melbourne (Aus) where the concert was. Went out the front door of the Hotel in the evening to find a taxi to go to the gig. A bloke strolls out of the hotel after me and stands slightly behind me for a minute. I'm looking up and down the street trying to spot a taxi and this voice says "Looking for a taxi, mate?" It's Phil Collins!! We stood there for about 10 minutes, chatting about football (Aussie rules footy) and keyboards (I play keyboard - badly) until his limo comes to take him to the gig.
He didn't offer me a lift to the gig, even tho' I told him that's where I was going . . showed him the tickets and everything. .

Length? Dunno. . . It wasn't a streched limo or anything, just a standard one
(richardr, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 8:26, Reply)

My maths teacher last year.
Was absolutely lovely. Her name was Mrs Kiley and she is now officially (and has been up there for a while) up on my list of someone who I have deep respect for and really admire.
Sorry this isn't going to be funny.

Last year I had her for maths. I was a year younger then everybody else and had somehow been put into the highest set of maths there was. And it was HARD. Really, really hard. I found myself really struggling to keep up with the coursework, let alone pass anything. And it wasn't like I didn't try. I did. I studied so hard, did extra maths sheets, extra classes, tutorials, everything I could think of - and nothing helped.

Still - every single lesson Mrs K was there and she sat patiently beside me and helped me through the questions, explaining and explaining, letting me go to compose myself (read - stop crying) when I go so frustrated and angry that everybody else seemed to understand with ease what I struggled with, continually encouraging me. She never once lost patience with me, gave up on me or told me to quit the class.

I spent all year slaving my arse off - struggling to get a D for every test, while other people did no work and got A+'s with ease. And yet she still stuck by my decision to tough out the class.

Sorry give me a moment.

okay. I'm right.

I failed my end of year exam and she wasn't even mad at me. She actually congratulated me for failing as narrowly as I did (45%), and gave me a massive hug. I admit that I did cry a bit. And I'm struggling a bit to keep it together now writing this out.

So at the end of last year - I thought about how I could show her how much I appreciated everything she had done for me... and I sat down and wrote her a letter. It was long and took me a fair while to write - because - like now - I did struggle not to cry while writing it. I told her how much it meant to me that she had put so much effort into helping me and that I was sorry I let her down by failing the class despite both our efforts. I likened my crash and burn to the Quantas airbus that dropped 2000ft in 20 seconds. It was something of that spectacular nature.

She just gave me a massive hug but I know she still has that letter. And she still stops me to ask how I'm going this year (I had to retake maths and dropped down to the middle set) and we smile and talk like old buddies.

But yes. Thoroughly up there on the hero lists - quite nearly equal with my mum. And that's saying something.

No apologies for length. I have had the "hot guy" from The Footy Show come into my work but honestly - compared to my Mum and Mrs K - he's insignificant.
(Poppet some assembly required., Mon 20 Apr 2009, 8:21, 3 replies)

That Special Woman in My Life
I love her so very much.

It seems like I've known her all my life. I remember when we used to hold hands and go for long walks in the beginning. I remember the summer smells wafting on the air, the bees buzzing round us, the dancing dandelion seeds caught on the gentle breeze swaying before our eyes, and most important of all the sheer unadulterated excitement of being in her company.

And I recall the first times we fucked. It just felt so right, it felt better than with anyone I'd ever been with before and I knew from the moment I first buried my prick womb deep inside her that I wanted her to carry my child.

It just seemed so right.

And the really amazing thing is when I slide inside her now it still feels incredible, absolutely fucking amazing. Just the smell of her hair makes me hard. And the filth that comes out of her mouth, well, I'd be lying if I said that didn't help Mr. Stiffy Cock replace Mr. Floppy Cock for a few moments of frantic head banging.

I love her and lust after her, she's fucking amazing.

So I'd just like to say,

From the bottom of my heart,

With all the love in my mind and my body,

With every breath I breathe, with every pulsing heartbeat, with every incredible mind-blowning, earth-shattering orgasm she gives me...

Thanks Mum

You're one in a million.
( SpankyHanky, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 0:41, 3 replies)

I brought a framed comic from nobbynobody
..it was about sea monkeys
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 23:19, Reply)

WARNING! WILL UPSET /TALK WITH GENERAL PANDERING AND NICENESS.
I am a huge fan of several people on B3ta.

In no particular order.

Pooflake - Funny as fuck, talented musician and sex on legs.

Ancrenne - Gone through hell and come out the other side strong and smiling.

Davros & Tourettes - Legless thinks they're great so no other recommendations are required really. I hope to be friends with them a long time.

The Resident Loon - A Renaissance man stuck in the land of rednecks. Hopefully one day he will be able to escape.

CHCB - Bitter, twisted and insanely funny. Never met her but I don't think I'd be disappointed. (Number 2 on my list of people to stalk after Barack Obama).

These are the main ones. There are others but it's past my bedtime and I'm knackered.
( girlinthehole, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 22:51, 23 replies)

Gambler's Freudian slip...
I queued for hours in line at Waterstones to meet England goalkeeper Peter Shilton, my boyhood hero.
He'd pissed out a 'quicky' autobiography, for he had run out of money due to the twin perils of the wrong women and the ol' gambling.
They say never meet your heroes, and Shilts had that thousand yard stare of a man who'd been kicked in the head that few times too many, and who'd lost just that few hands of cards too many.
In fact, he definitely had it on him mind, for he signed my book, misspelling 'All the best,' as 'all the BET'.

I still have it.
(whitehorse, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 21:37, 2 replies)

Not my Beloved....
A couple of years back I was moving in a very arty crowd, suffice to say I felt entirely out of my depth and almost constantly made a fool of myself...nothing new there then.

One friend - the gorgeous and charming Eve, invited me out for cocktails one night. Eve is Australian and came over to the UK in the 90s when she was working in the music industry.

When I first met Eve and she told me she'd worked in music I assumed either it was classical music or more cynically that she'd worked for someone like HMV in one of their stores.

Er, no.

Turned out Eve had been a close friend of Michael Hutchence and had really been part of the celebrity circuit.

Wow.

I was completely in awe - of course I covered it up very well by allowing my mouth to gape and my eyes to turn saucer shaped as I slowly said, "Wow!"

To my credit I didn't ask any questions about oranges or Kylie - I'm far too cool for that. Instead I simply continued to say, "Wow" and add in the occasional, "That's amazing!"

Of course, I could match her in the celeb stakes - I'd been at Uni with Jon Holmes (not that one) before he'd hit Radio 4 and world stardom.

Eve was impressed - I could see that because she asked all about him - the usual stuff like, "So which Radio 4 programme does he appear in?" - The Now Show, actually.

Anyway, back to the story of cocktails with popstars....

Eve wanted me to meet her friend G - I'd love him, he was tall, dashing, huge fun and used to be in a band called The Beloved.
"Who?"
Eve mentioned one of their biggest hits - The Sun Rising. I nodded and pretended to look knowledgeable. At least I knew I'd be completely cool around him - I had no idea who he or his band were so I wouldn't look star struck. Excellent!

So we all meet up in a cocktail bar in town - just as Eve had promised, G was tall, suave, sophisticated, amusing and charming.
Meanwhile I felt like I was back at school - I was in the 1st Year again, eleven years old, wild frizzy hair, gauche and mouthy (moi?!). Eve, G and his friend (another musician, equally as charming, good-looking and so on) were just like 6th Formers - cool.

I laughed just a little bit too long and too hard at every minor aside they made, I nodded as if I knew what they were talking about when they discussed friends 'in town' (London dahling!). Fortunately I remembered to keep quiet about my celebrity links - rather easy really as I had none...well, if you don't count Jon, obviously.

Anyway, the evening draws on, we drink cosmopolitans, mojitos, and other such celebrity drinks - a real step up from my usual cheap white wine falling down juice. G talks about 'other projects' he's got going on....something to do with Radiohead.

At last!

Something I can add to the conversation!

"Really! Wow! That's amazing! What a coincidence! You and Radiohead..."

G turns to me, his sophisticated good looks dazzle me - more so in my posh alcohol stupor - "Yeah? How so?"

Here's my chance to fit in with the cool kids - all my life I'd missed out - wrongly of course - on mixing with the cool kids, being one of the cool kids. Now was my chance.

"Er, yeah...Radiohead..."

All the cool kids' eyes turn to look at me. My moment of coolness has arrived.

I'm sitting having cocktails with people from the music industry for god's sake! Me!

"Yeah, Radiohead....you're doing a project with them and I've....um...I've got two of their albums."



I don't see much of Eve these days.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 21:13, 5 replies)

Well, if this is just turning into meeting famous people...
Tom O'Connor, Kenneth Williams, Julia McKenzie, Jill Gascoine (at the filming of a channel 4 quiz called 'Password'), Ed Bishop (from UFO), Jennifer Moss (from Coronation Street), both of them came into the hotel I worked in but didn't stay, Colin Crompton did stay and put on a half hour routine in the tv room after being out for the evening.
In addition I've corresponded with Dr. Birney Dibble (author www.dibblebooks.com/index.htm), Guy Bellamy (http://guybellamynovels.moonfruit.com/), and Rupert Holmes (http://www.rupertholmes.com/home.html) author, musician, singer songwriter, and Dean Friedman (http://www.deanfriedman.com/).
And I've got / had books autographed by Stephen King and Bob Shaw.
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Sun 19 Apr 2009, 21:02, Reply)

Anvil's Terry Prachett story reminded me of this
I too cried when I heard TP had developed early-onset Alzheimer's Syndrome. He is absolutely brilliant. I met him years ago and I'll list an example of his quick wit:

I had stood in line for hours to meet him for 30 seconds and have him sign my books. At the time, my brother was policing Iraq and handled POWs. When I got to Terry, I told him he was very popular in Iraq-I had sent my bro a care package of Prachett Discworld books and once Bro was finished he passed them on to the POWs. They were hotly sought-after and passed from hand to hand. Bro requested more and would he please sign one addressed specifically to my little brother (remember, the one I thought captured Saddam Hussein).
He laughed uproariously at that story and said, "I can see it now:..." waving his hand in the air. He then pretended he was an Iraqi POW and blibbered.,"Ak mak lhoudani maloof amir RINCEWIND abber jabber makhakkkhhkkhhkkk!" and gave me a huge shit-eating grin.

I fell in love.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 20:37, 5 replies)

Not devotion so much as harrassment
During the height of the Anita Bryant-OJ scandal...
For non- Americans, this was about the mid '70's and AB campaigned to strike down a pro-gay statute in Florida. Gay people were then specifically denied the right to: adopt children, be protected from losing their jobs because of their sexual orientation and lost other protections. She got this passed in several cities, but the backlash caused her to lose her job. She sank into camp retro and went right down the toilet.

So anyway, a couple years afterward we saw she was headlining a sleazy dinner theatre near us. A big gang of drag queens, flaming Friends of Dorothy and I went to see her. We applauded, cheered, whistled like mad. She was tickled pink, that is


UNTIL....


she came up to us after the show to "meet her fans" and realized exactly who these beautifully dressed men and "women" were. You could hear the quotation marks in her voice when she said the word 'ladies'. The guys fawned over her to her increasingly obvious discomfort and finally asked for her autograph. Clearly she didn't want to, but couldn't figure a way out of it fast enough.

Big Rhett (who was wearing my clothes better than I could frowny face)squeed over her like a fangrrl and gave her a big wet smoochy kiss for the autograph, whereupon everyone else did, too.
We left clutching valuable autographs in our hot little hands, leaving her covered in about 12 different shades of gaudy lipgloss and fuming.

We had so much fun!!
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 20:23, 3 replies)

I am such a big fan of Garbage I automatically click any QOTW answer that mentions them
So far this week that's involved clicking on stories by circle and jamesthegill.

It's also meant clicking the post I made myself earlier this week.

I know this is wrong, but anything that increases the chances of Garbage getting a mention on the "best of" page is completely justifiable. Isn't it?

Inevitably, in just a few moments I'll be clicking on this post too.
( GarbageFan didn't know what to have as a board sig on, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 19:14, 3 replies)

When I was a student
I was working in a new nightclub in Derby (Time, incase anyone knows it) and Paddy McGuinness was the special guest one night, I was lucky enough to get to see him, and get his autograph.

it only just reminded me when the Greggs advert just came on..
(Lord Chode, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 19:00, Reply)

A short one
Bloodstock 2003
Joined the queue for a Nightwish signing session.
Said queue, alas, not a short one.
Two hours later I was finally within shoe-lobbing distance of the hallowed portal when the door was firmly shut and the stewards announced "That's it. No more"
Since I'd just missed Edguy and Masterplan I was a tad miffed.
Still, I was obviously nowhere near as dedicated as the handful of stalwarts still trying to argue their way in half an hour later
(Big D, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 18:47, 1 reply)

tiswas
When I was but a little Spimf there were only 3 terrestrial TV channels in the UK. Late night and breakfast television only existed in a space age ‘Tomorrows World’ future where we would all wear shiny white jumpsuits and drive around in hover our cars chomping on space food.

Saturday morning TV was a big deal in the 70’s – on Auntie Beeb you had the safe and dull Mulitcoloured Swap Shop with the towering cuntage of Noel Edmonds – well as much as a bearded proto Beadle midget in stack heels can tower. However on the ‘other side’ you had the unbridled chaos that was Tiswas. For kids that grew up in the seventies Tiswas was the nuts – parents feared it’s anarchic pie flinging tomfoolery, while school playgrounds across the length and breadth of the nation rang with cries of ‘Compost Corner’ and kids writhed on the floor doing the ‘Dying Fly’.

I wont bother trying to explain the format of the show, if you don’t know it:

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiswas

One day a letter arrived addressed to 'Master Spimf Esq.' – immediately I knew this was from my rather exotic aunt from ‘down south’ who worked ‘in TV’, inside was an invite to join the audience of Tiswas!

Fuck. Me.

For two weeks I ran around my school telling EVERYONE I would be on the show. I could barely sleep at night. Finally the day came. To be on ‘the set’ was fantastic. I nearly fell over when Sally James ruffled my hair and said I was a ‘nutter’. That was my cue – I did my level best to show off and act up as much as possible in front any camera I could - shouting random stuff and generally being a cocky little shit. The producer asked if I wanted to ‘take part in a link’. I had no clue what that was but boy was I up for it. Basically they wanted to have me stand on a small podium and deliver the line ‘and now it's time more rubbish’ while they pelted me with.. well, rubbish. For reason unknown they also wanted me to put on this ridiculous foam seagull costume – which I still remember the foul smell of to this day. It was also a complete bastard to move about in.

So there I am – little Mr Cocky Knickers standing on my podium waiting on my big moment. I could envisage all my little mates: lime green with envy as they saw me, live on the coolest thing on telly. I would easily be the coolest kid in school.

Then it came – I got the nod to deliver my line straight to camera.

Naturally my arse collapsed and I froze like a deer in the headlamps. Dead air.

A small silent twat in a seagull suit was beamed to a bewildered nation.

Suddenly, some cunt throwing a bucket of freezing cold water straight in my face broke the spell – such was the nature of the show. I was so shocked I started to cry. I tried to wipe my face, but couldn’t move in the stupid fucking bird suit, lost my footing, wobbled and flailed in a vain attempt to stay upright on the wet podium - then fell flat on my arse. The whole studio fell apart, as no doubt did 8 million viewers. Humiliation was not the word, in fact - Tiswas, my moist gull wobble moment!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 18:23, 5 replies)

My brother
I'm not anybody's biggest fan, but my brother is Brian Jacques' biggest fan. Just in case anybody doesn't know who he is, he's a British author, he wrote Redwall and all it's sequels. My brother is completely obsessed with Redwall and knows everything about it, is constantly comparing one book to another, pointing out inconsistencies and basically driving us all nuts. He writes to Brian Jacques constantly praising him to heaven, and has built several models of Redwall Abbey out of clay or popsicle sticks. He has drawn pictures and written stories. He may or may not have been mentioned in a book, as Brian Jacques does to some fans. eg. Samantha Kim- character named Samkim. My brother is Andy, there's a character named "Andio". Who knows. Anyway, when Brian Jacques sends the restraining order, I guess my brother will have to buy a new frame. Anyway, my point is this- could someone come over and make him stop talking about Redwall? We're all losing it.
(mariam67, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 17:44, 8 replies)

My famous mate.
About, ooooh, ten years ago now, my best mate Eddie, for it is he, went off on holiday with people from his work.

One night as he sat in a bar, a man came over to him and shook his hand. A bit confused, Eddie smiled and nodded politely as the man said "I knew it was you! Would you mind coming over and meeting my missus?" Eddie agreed, met the missus, and it was then that the penny dropped that these people thought he was someone famous. Just as he was about to set them straight, the man offers to buy his new famos friend a drink. Already fairly drunk, a dastardly plan hatched in my pal's mind, and although he had no idea who the famous person they had mistook him for was, he decided to milk as many free drinks as he could out of them.

About an hour later, however, my decidedly drunker mate was pulled aside by one of his friends, who informed him that he had overheard the pair discussing getting my mate a LOT drunker and making him the filling in a famous man-sandwich. A free drink's a free drink, but not worth one's botty cherry, so Eddie scarpered quite quickly after that.

On returning home, he told me the story, at which point I asked who they had thought he was. "Erm, Andrew something........ Whyment, Andrew Whyment." Yes, Kirk from Coronation Street, who at the time was best known for playing thick-as-shit Darren in the Royle Family. the look of abject disgust on his face when he realised who it was was priceless, but it has to be said, it mystified me.... my mate looks absolutely NOTHING like him.

I can only conclude the pervy couple must have been very pissed indeed, and had their plan succeeded they would have had a shock the next morning.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 16:24, Reply)

People are crazy!
When I tell them that my greatest hero and favourite person in the world to hang out with is my mother, they think it's sweet.

When I tell them that I'm related to Joan Jett, they think it's cool.

Yet when I stalk Joan Jett and insist that she's my mother, suddenly I'm a criminal!
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 15:32, Reply)

As I couldn't afford to buy his book
When I met Stephen Fry I'd spent all of the last night and morning baking him some bread. I'd had dough left over from the bread I made him, so that was my breakfast that day. I hope he enjoyed the bread as much as I did.

When I gave it to him he called me sweet. That made me so very happy. It still makes me smile.

I should have asked for his signature in my sketchbook but I was too shy.
( Rev. Cleo still alive, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 15:24, Reply)

Not exactly a hero, or a show of devotion, but...
One of my money making activities is as a sound and light technician, and I used to tech a cabaret show at short notice when the theatre techie had pulled one of his numerous sickies, which means that I turn up an hour before the night and don't get to see any of the 15 or so acts in full before hand. On this particular night, they had Mr Guy Pratt, of Pink Floyd fame playing some of his signature riffs along with some hilarious anecdotes of his rock and roll life. He turned out to be one of the jovial cunts who tell you the cue lines, then go completely off script and proceed to stand there waiting for you to telepathically realise which backing song they have just deceided they want you to play. As a result there were a few inevitable pauses before the songs.

So after the show he comes back to the sound desk, and starts berating me for fucking his entire set up (which I hadn't to be fair) and that I need to get my act together. This was a prelude to him backing me into a corner, shoving me up against the wall and telling me that there was a way that I could earn his forgiveness. Possibly the most unpleasant come on I have ever had.

Sleazy cunt.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 15:14, 5 replies)

Not quite sure this belongs here but...

When I saw the programme that came out fairly recently on Terry Pratchett's affliction with Alzheimers, I cried.

I am a grown man, and not particularly sentimental; but to see such a creative genius with such a fine mind and intellect affected by the horror of Alzheimers really emphasised that fairness is not an innate quality posessed by this world.

I have never cried over anything that has afflicted any other public figure.

He is one of my top literary heroes; I've spent countless hours reading his fantastic books.

If you haven't read any of the Discworld series, you should. Now.

Length? More hours of reading than I could possibly count..

P.S. No apologies for the lack of funnies.
(anvil, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 14:57, 5 replies)

I've met god
Well, a god:

A nearby village won the "Best Kept Village" award. Her Majesty the Queen and her husband, the dashing Prince Phillip, came to present the award.

Us pupils at the local junior school were taken to the ceremony and instructed to wave the flags which we had made and coloured in and to shriek "Yeah!" in as high pitched voices as we could muster.

We were paired up: one older kid with one younger kid the idea being that the little ones didn't wander off. I had a 4 year old girl as my charge.

We were stood behind a barrier consisting of some tape attached to poles. Their Royal Highnesses made their way along the barrier chatting to some of the kids as they went.

As the noble couple got closer, one of the little scrotes tried to barge my charge out of the way to get to the front. I instructed him to "Stop pushing".

Prince Phillip looked down at me and asked "Who's pushing?".

I turned and pointed at the offender and said "He is".

And that was my brush with a god, I am surely blessed.

* If you are questioning the god assertion, check the facts:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Philip_Movement
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 12:02, 1 reply)

Stephen Hawking
He was a bit of a disappointment though. Wouldn't sign an autograph.
(I grew it myself, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 11:56, Reply)

Fanfic pearoast
I was in the pub the other day and a minor TV celebrity walked in, clutching his Big Black Book of Horror.



"Look!" I said to my uncomprehending chums, "It's TV's Paul Ross! The man with the magic voice! When he holds hands with himself marvellous happenings occur!".



They looked at me and gave a half shake of the head before looking at the floor and resuming their previous activity of ignoring me. Ignoredom, I like to call it, when boredom causes one to ignore a companion and stare at the floor. Beer was sipped and a trip outside to the smoking area was discussed.



They departed to partake in the simultaneous noxious and fragrant activity of smoke inhalation. Tubes of dried leaves had never been so appealing.



I approached the tubby yet radiant familiar stranger at the bar. The Big Black Book of Horror was hanging at his side, clutched in a sweaty forepaw as if it was yesterday's newspaper rather than the key to abject terror. My soul quivered at the sight.



"Excuse me sir" my voice was shaky and I could feel patches of salty sweat begin to seep out from my armpits. "You're TV's Paul Ross, aren't you?". My stomach was doing the hurdles as I spoke to the great man.
Surely he would ignore me, or, hopefully, give me a curt backhanded slap across the face?



"Yes, yes I am" he replied. "Do you like my Big Black Book of Horror?" I lied and told him I did.



The thing strikes abject fear into my soul, as if stiletto darts of obsidian quartz were fired from a nailgun into my immortal self.



We shook hands and sipped our pints. Our eyes met and, for a fleeting moment, I detected an animal warmth in the Ross man's heart.



I was chilled to the bone.



He indulged in an impromptu round of either/ or- "Guinness or Beamish Red?" was what he asked me.



I didn't know what to do. I took a stab in the dark and told him Beamish. I don't know why- Guinness is my pint of choice.



A chill descended in the room as he told me it was the wrong answer. He handed me the Big Black Book of Horror and told me the role was now mine.



I stepped outside and knew what I had to do. I looked down the road and hailed a taxi. I left.



I never saw my friends again.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 10:55, 1 reply)

SxSW
I was working as a stage hand during SxSW and two of my favorite bands Casiokids & The Golden Filter were playing at the Hype Machine showcase. Luckily for me I was working for the sound crew running that show, but was scheduled to work at another venue at the same time. Took a smoke break just to run down the 4 or 5 blocks to get the Casiokids autographs and ran back. We finished setting up with 20 minutes to spare before The Golden Filters' set so I ran back down and got their autographs and caught their set. Almost broke my leg running up the stairs and narrowly avoided several fights forcing my way through the crowd to get into the show both times (the venue was at capacity and some people had been waiting hours just to get in).
(seshmarls, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 10:40, 2 replies)

Got three heroes is my life....
- Bobby Moore, My Dad and Ginger from the Wildhearts. Bobby Moore is sadly no longer with us, My Dad I owe my life to but this story is about the latter - one Geordie singer of the greatest band ever.

I fell in love with this band back in the 90's, as they seemed to be singing all about me. I got to see them a few times, until their collapse in 1997. Sad times - the drugs had got the better of them, and it was kind of inevitable.

However fast forward to 2001. I'm working in the Netherlands and had just received notice of my contract finishing in a month. Within a few minutes of this I also got the news they were reforming. I decided this feat needed to be properly appreciated, so I came up with the mad idea of getting together a few hardcore members ("listees") from the mailing list, hiring a bus and going to every show on the tour (including the warm up solo shows and Silverginger 5 dates). The response to the idea was a bus that was quickly filled up with like minded members from all over the world - The US, Japan, Germany, The UK, The Netherlands - it was all going to happen.

First gig was at my mates record shop in South Shields (the sadly defunct Changes One), memorable for the first ever live airing of the 10 minute opus "Sky Babies"- accompanied by Alex Kane of Antiproduct I was even invited on the stage to sing it as I knew all the words - I declined. Anyway after the gig I finally got to meet Ginger, and told him about a record he saught which I had tracked down and bought for him. I told him about the Busties tour, and how we might see a bit more of eachother.

Anyway we made all the gigs, the second night I got completely drunk, as did Ginger and we ended up as only drunks do, hugging and confessing our undying love for eachother (we are both men, so no sordid ideas - just man love, you know?). We then proceeded on the tour to Glasgow where the Bus was hired and the original and hardcore busties ammassed. We hadn't met all of them before, but two women on that bus became historical with me. The first was a German who became my stalker, following me relentlessly, and freaking me the fuck out. The second was V, a very beautiful American girl who I know realise I fell in love with instantly.

Bear with me as this is important - The gigs continued with legendary status - people got lost from legs of the tour, the bus broke down three times, and the German stalker began to seriously freak me out, much to the mirth of the other people on the bus. At the gig in Dudley, I was trying to pursuade one of the girls to get off with me just to throw her off - I even considered the offer of one of the fellers, but the best thing of all was, after the very dissapointing show (the Bass player had problems and collapsed on the stage) I went to the bar with V, we got talking, hit it off and then spent the night together. The next morning everyone was pissed off with the show and the van breaking down again, yet me and her were in that post-coital bliss which was blatantly evident to everyone else.

Back to the Wildhearts - anyway we did the whole tour and became well known to the band for our efforts. It grew friendships you cherish for life. One of our crew, the Infamous Trace we lost to cancer a couple of years back and is very sadly missed. Friendships formed with the band, and with a couple of fellow fans, we took over the operation of their website, and I got not only to photograph them, but was held in so high esteem I got to tour with them for 10 nights, along with Therapy? which is worth writing a book about. I've got to know Ginger at his best and at his worst, but at his best he has said some of the most touching and wonderful things about my efforts and work. He's also been a cunt at times, but I guess you can say the upside of that is that I have truly gotten to know one of my heroes, and I still hold him in that esteem.

But there is one thing that he blessed me with more than anything. The relationship I had with V - we fell in love, albeit her in the US, me in Amsterdam. We got to see eachother a few times a year, but sadly with long distance relationships, they break down, which was so sad as she was/is the love of my life. I still love her very deeply, yet I haven't seen her in 6 years. But tomorrow, I'll fix that - she lands here at 8.20am to come and live with me. I don't know if reconciliation is possible, she has a lot of sore memories of the breakup, but she loved me, and I am sure, still does a little. Tomorrow my new life starts, and this time its with hope and understanding, as I really do love this woman.

So one of my heroes changed my life in so many ways - if you hadn't written those wonderful songs I would never have met her. And I would never have realised my potential as a photographer, made the friends I have, or had anything like the memories I cherish. And that Ginger, makes you a hero of the highest fucking order, and I love you for that.
(Waynster James Joyce is fucking my sister!, Sun 19 Apr 2009, 10:13, 8 replies)