Polish men's urine.
Worked in a factory. With a Polish guy. Got invited to go to [insert name]ski's place for Friday drinks and then the pub. Warned off by most of thee other workers (including Polish woman), [insert name]ski is apparently batshit crazy. "Challenge accepted". Considering I can comfortably drink nearly twice my bodyweight in alcohol including hard liquor I thought I'd show [insert name]ski just what batshit crazy can be like...
Arrive at [insert name]ski's. Offered "iced tea". Iced tea is warm yellow liquid with strong smell. Not brown, smelling of lemons and cold.
Have minuscule sip - "iced tea" is salty and is most definitely NOT iced tea. I look at [insert name]ski quizzically. He asks me what's wrong.
"This tastes like piss."
[insert name]ski flies into a rage accusing me of accusing him of serving me his urine. I decide that this isn't a good Friday night pissup, grab my 6 pack and get the fuck out of Dodge.
Monday morning [insert name]ski wibbits on in Polish with other Polish woman and then tells me what a great time I missed. Later other Polish woman confirms that [insert name]ski tried to get me to drink his piss.

Kinda been wary of Polish men's piss since then.
(spl00sh!, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 9:12, 7 replies)

Legless proper scared me once
Worst shit ever

Love

Reeva xx
(riffjedibaby almost 1,000 chickens, Sat 13 Sep 2014, 22:52, 5 replies)

Nearest I can get to this was when
me and my three mates went on holiday to Florida. It was a beautiful resort with only two drawbacks. The first was this cunt waving notices from his balcony telling his pals at home that he was really here.
The second problem was that one of my mates incredibly had never been to the seaside before. When he took his first step on the beach he fell apart in a panic attack. So we dragged him to the nearest bar and the barman says "Fuck me what's up with him?"

"Fears sand, four beers."
( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Mon 22 Sep 2014, 16:23, 3 replies)

I hope Dr Skagra dies in a fire.

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 21:55, 41 replies)

He's gonna hate me for posting this...
Mate at work, on the Ambos, has a proper, full blown phobia of banana skins. Bananas are fine when zipped up, it's just the skins.
Anyway, long story, short.
He's working on an Ambo with a couple of female paramedics (it's called third-manning; don't ask), when one of them drops a banana skin on the floor between the front seats, intending to dispose of it later. He's driving & visibly flinches, so she asks why? Like an idiot, he tells the two lasses about his phobia.
Fast forward to later in the shift. They're in a large care home & he's sent back to the truck to fetch the stretcher. After a while, when there's still no sign of him, one of the lasses says she'd better go look for him. The care home manager tells her they can look on the cctv, because they have a camera on the front door. Switching it on they are greeted by the sight of him just as he discovers the banana skin, tucked into his jacket pocket.
I think the phrase was "dancing like an epileptic apache"
Sadly no video recorder was attached to the cctv.
(stygof, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 10:15, 27 replies)

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 22 Sep 2014, 18:56, 17 replies)

men with weak and clammy handshakes

( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 17:57, 22 replies)

I'm terrified of regular newsletters.
Fortunately, it doesn't seem much of a problem at the moment.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 17:24, 6 replies)

I've got the unexplainable terror of counting in German.
The doctor diagnosed it as 'Eins Zwei Drei Fear'.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 9:34, 11 replies)

Desert story
I have a friend who was ex-marine. He told me that on one occassion he was hiking lone through the desert, and felt something on his leg. Looking down he realised he was being bitten by fire ants; known to be particularly aggressive in the region. So he did the only thing he could think of, which was to start running.
After 20 minutes or so he spotted a small lake, with a jetty, so he pelted towards it, but to his horror as he arrived it just seemed to melt - it was a mirage! Eventually he somehow made it home alive. But to this day if you ask him if there's anything that frightens him, he always gives the same blunt reply; "Fierce ants. Faux piers".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Mon 22 Sep 2014, 16:50, 3 replies)

a frog just jumped on my foot


Think I might be a witch.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 18:14, 23 replies)

I Fear Nothing
Hello, Sweeties!

LISTEN...

I am, as you know, a Time Lord, and I fear nothing. Not even death, because I cannot die – if mortally wounded, I will regenerate; and, when I come to the end of my regenerative cycle, if I whine and bitch enough about it the Time Lords will grant me a new set of regenerations, just as they did with that other Gallifreyan who calls himself ‘Doctor.’

I fear nothing! NOTHING!

Nothing...

I have faced down hordes of Daleks, Zarbi, Cybermen, Autons, Quarks, Voord, Drashigs, Fendahl, Plasmatons, Krotons, Zygons, Ogri, Wirrn, Terileptils, Slitheen, Sycorax, Weeping Angels and Gubbage Cones.

I have done hand to hand combat with Ogrons, Taran Wood Beasts, Pyroviles, Yeti, Raston Warrior Robots, Tetraps, Aggedors and Ergons.

I have gone out on the piss with squads of Sontarans and drank them under the table.

I have even taken on Davros himself and walked off without batting an eyelid.

I am not scared of the dark or things hiding under the bed, unlike that fucking WUSS the Doctor.

I FEAR NOTHING.

No... thing...

Nothing.

Except...

But...

There is one thing... one being who I fear.

One being who I fear above all.
One being who could bring about my downfall.
One being who could finish me once and for all.
One being who does not resemble Bobby Ball.

One being who fills me full of dread.
One being who makes me tremble in my bed.
One being who could totally fuck my head.
One being I sorely wish was dead, dead, dead.

One being who makes me look over my shoulder.
One being who could squash me like a rolling boulder.
One being who would love to stop me getting older.
One being whose black heart could not be colder.

One being who riddles my steadfast mind with dribbling doubt.
One being who makes my bum go all runny just thinking about.
One being who makes me wake up in the small hours and shout.
One being who could reduce all my grandiloquent works to nowt.

One being I hate and who hates me.
One being who is my sworn enemy.
My nemesis, my adversary.
My Voldemort, my Moriarty.

Who is this being?
I only met him the once -
But I’m fucked if I’m telling
You bunch of cunts

Who it is.

So, TLDR, no story from me this week, KTH@NKZBYAI

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[And before anyone asks, NO, IT’S NOT THE DOCTOR.]

[Nor is it Dr Shambollock’s pizza pants, Mr Quinch’s barking spider, Poof’s lake, Mr Beefy’s beef, Rachelswine’s gunt or anything to do with any of you lovely lot, give me some credit.]
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 21:48, 14 replies)

Unloco parentis
This is probably common to a lot of parents but the thought of finding myself in a situation where I can't protect or care for my children frightens the fucking life out of me.

Undoubtedly this is some inadequacy-related shit but there are moments, usually triggered by being over-tired, where it can be utterly terrifying.

Couldn't watch United 93, for instance. That was me, on that plane, with my children, and I could do nothing. My wife watched it and I just paced round the house having a walking fucking nightmare.

Surely this can't be just me.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 1:55, 18 replies)

Wearing formal trousers

( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Sun 14 Sep 2014, 17:54, 4 replies)

Earthbabies
Aka Jerusalem Crickets. We'd occasionally find them when we were kids. They aren't from Jerusalem and they aren't crickets and we knew that finding one meant the Universe had irretrievably broken: en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerusalem_cricket
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sun 14 Sep 2014, 16:40, Reply)

porcelain dolls
the ones with the teeth.
those fuckers can fuck the fuck off.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sun 14 Sep 2014, 15:37, 4 replies)

Just this

( Zuowan, Sat 13 Sep 2014, 15:48, 3 replies)

I fucking hate spiders
Stayed over a friends place and his brother kept big spiders as pets. Had spider skins in the loo, all sorts of wrong fuckers all over the house.

fucking horrible it was.
Dirty fucking hairy spiders, orange knees and sharp fangs.

didn't like it one bit
cunts.
( --- ---, Sat 13 Sep 2014, 2:08, 8 replies)

I'm scared of posting anything on QOTW
Because if it's remotely wrong or irregular or unacceptable I'll be pilloried and vilified.

Some people might take it further and attempt to contact my employer. Some people might assume that I constitute a personal threat and some people might attempt a lesser assumption of authority.

Who knows? If you think you do - do it for the post count.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 19:31, 48 replies)

I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
( Locus213 Slightly to the left of Bakunin, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 15:16, 10 replies)

I had a mate who was afraid of getting sausaged
but we managed to cure that by tying him naked to a lamp post in soho
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 13:43, 2 replies)

My daughter has an irrational fear of Mayonnaise. I am entirely responsible for this. She is now 16 and head lice happened when she was 5. I read an effective way of getting rid of these critters was lashings of mayonnaise, beer, vinegar and mouth rinse applied to the head then wrapped up. I duly did this,leaving her to sleep with the afore mentioned on her head. At 3 o'clock in the morning she wandered into my room. 'Mummy, I don't like mayonnaise'. She looked positively yellow in the half light so I panicked and got the stuff of her head. Also, I tried to give her fish oil by mixing it with mayonnaise in a seperate incident. That may have helped with the phobia.
(maggied Riding the Gravy Train on, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 13:24, 11 replies)

A good place to discover that you're claustrophobic

... is definitely NOT half way into a potholing trip.

I'd happily joined up, it was something I'd always thought I'd like to try. We got kitted up, started our descent, no problems. Then, suddenly, it all went wrong, and The Fear hit me - real primal, animal terror. Not intellectual "Shit, this is a bit dangerous" kind of fear, but deep, limbic horror that can't easily be put into words.

Apparently, I smashed the record time for exiting the cave...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 12 Sep 2014, 11:55, 2 replies)

Virgin
Sorry folks. Long story coming………

A while back I used to live in Manchester but work in London so it meant a weekly commute down to the smoke on a Monday and back on a Friday.

The return journey was always shit. The train was *always* packed to the roof with standing room only on a Friday night - unless you had a reserved seat which I always did.

So this one Friday, after a brutal week at work, I had a couple of pints before girding my loins and getting on the bloody Virgin train north. As usual, the train was packed to buggery and I found my seat and turfed out some chancer who had tried to nick my reserved seat. I grumpily settled in for the journey home.

Hmmmm. Train not moving. What's up? Then I heard the guard shouting:

"Move down, move down"

And the bastards were cramming more people on this already hideously overcrowded train. Bastards. Still, the train pulled away eventually and I lifted my eyes from my book and saw an exhausted looking girl carrying a baby. And she was standing. Standing all the way from London to Manchester - it was a non-stopping service.

Now I was brought up is to have a few manners. Woman with baby standing - me sitting - not right. So I stood up and offered her my seat, which she gratefully accepted, and I decided to bugger off to the restaurant car and try and get a seat there. I was also quietly boiling about how packed this train was and by the time I'd fought my way up the packed aisles I and reached the restaurant car I was bloody furious with Virgin.

As the food in the restaurant is extortionate it was, as usual, pretty quiet and I managed to get a seat. In fact, I managed to get a double seat to myself. And, as I looked up into First Class, I could see that there was hardly a soul up there in the posh seats. Well that just about did it. I passed from being really, really angry and reached let's-see-how-much-trouble-I-can-cause mode.

So I ordered a bottle of wine and a big meal. I sank the bottle in about 30 minutes (ever noticed how quickly you can drink when you're angry?) and ordered another one. Meal arrived, polished that off and ordered a large whiskey. As that arrived, so did Mr Ticket Inspector.

"Tickets please!" he trilled.

"And you can fuck off as well" I said. "I've got a valid ticket but there's no way I'm showing it to you. And another thing. See this food and booze I've just eaten? - Well I'm not paying for that either. It's a bloody disgrace the way you've packed this train. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're breaking some sort of Health and Safety laws. And, while I'm on, why hell aren't you letting those poor buggers who are standing have the unused seats in first class?"

Well, I was off on one now. I tore into him for about 15 minutes about how crap his company was and how he should be ashamed to be working for them. I ranted on about overcrowding and the idiocy of packing people in like cattle and leaving all that space in first class.

He wasn't happy and eventually we had a slanging match and he said if I didn't produce my ticket and didn't pay for my meal then he would call ahead and have the Transport Police waiting for me when we got to Manchester.

"YOU BLOODY MORON" I yelled. "THAT'S WHAT I WANT! I *WANT* TO BE ARRESTED. I WANT TO BE TAKEN TO COURT. AND WHEN I'M THERE I'LL MAKE SURE THAT THE FUCKING PRESS ARE AS WELL SO I CAN GET MY VIEWS ACROSS ON HOW YOU BLOODY BASTARDS ARE CRAMMING THE TRAINS TO DANGEROUS LEVELS JUST TO MAKE A FEW QUID. NOW PISS OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE....."

Honestly people - I very, very rarely lose my temper but that day I'd just had enough.

Obviously this story is a Legless repost from about 1903 or something. I thought I'd insert this paragraph to see if anyone actually reads QOTW stories these days, and if the mods actually give a shit about using it as a random pasting board, or if everyone just assumes "shit, 30 paras of text, that must be Skagra" and tl;drs straight to the comments.

So we eventually arrived in Manchester and I sat quietly in my seat and waited for the police to arrive. After about 15 minutes, still no sign of Plod so I decided to go looking for the guard and present myself for arrest. I had to hunt around a bit but eventually found him.

"Well. Here I am. Where's the law. I want to be arrested." I said.

"I've had a word with the station manager and we've decided, in the circumstances, not to have you arrested after all" says guard.

I just looked at him.

"You, and your company, are a fucking bunch of gutless wonders...."

And off I wandered into the night.

Cheers
(Guy Debord cette mauvaise réputation..., Mon 22 Sep 2014, 22:57, 20 replies)

( Zuowan, Mon 22 Sep 2014, 18:24, 1 reply)

I'm scared of change, please don't do a new QOTW

( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Mon 22 Sep 2014, 10:24, Reply)

Drowning
Even though I am a very strong swimmer, and usually swimming in deep water has never scared me, I was in Australia about 9 years ago and had taken the Hydrofoil from Port Douglas out to a floating platform on the edge of the Barrier Reef and the ocean. I'd gone travelling with some mates, but as they were hung-over to hell, I was the only one that went on the day trip.

It was a rough day, and the boat had only just sailed. We arrived at the platform and although the weather was bad, I'd been snorkelling over the reef and basically just been enjoying the view, when I lifted my head above the surface and seen I was about 400m from the platform and drifting further away...

Even at full front crawl speed, it seemed I could not get any closer to the platform, and in my head, I started to think that this was it,... that's me, about 30 miles from the shore, no-one knows I have floated away, what now...

Next thing I know is a canoe is on top of me, and the greatest sight in the world (at that point) was a Aussie bloke, putting a life jacket around me and dragging me back to the platform saying "Fucking Poms, no idea of how much you have to respect the ocean..."

Been to Fiji, Florida, Spain, Italy and Newquay since, but still cannot even paddle in the sea now.
(The Kitchen Sink, Fri 19 Sep 2014, 22:40, 7 replies)

I've got this morbid, overwhelming fear of dying in a fire.

(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 19 Sep 2014, 17:48, 6 replies)

I fear this website has become a unmoderated wasteland.

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 19 Sep 2014, 12:18, 15 replies)