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This is a question Fears and Phobias

I'll level with you. I'm really freaked out by loose buttons. I'm fine while they're doing their job, but once they're free the evil bastards are a major threat to my life. Tell us what spooks you, and how you cope. Also: church bells, doner kebab salads, death.

(, Thu 11 Sep 2014, 17:18)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Strangers on the internet
thinking that I'm upset, when I'm really, really not.
(, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 15:09, 31 replies)
Questions that end on Fridays.

(, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 11:04, 17 replies)
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.
(, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 9:12, 7 replies)

Large ships viewed bow on from water level. Looming.

This is frightening:


This is just a nice photo.

(, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 6:07, 5 replies)
Attic the wrong box
I don't think I've ever really told anyone before, but over the last couple of years I've had exactly the same dream four or five times.

I don't know how it starts, but the climax is me stood at the bottom of a short staircase leading up to (what seems to be) an attic room. Ten or so wooden stairs, no carpet and no landing, just the closed panelled wooden door at the top.

The worst of it is that there are no words to express how terrified I am of climbing those stairs and going in that room. Something is in there - I have no idea what it is but the thought of coming face to face with it reduces me to a quivering jelly. Almost literally, too - I have to climb the stairs but of course, just as I'm about to open the door I wake up with a jolt, and in a real state of panic.

I know it sounds as if I'm exaggerating but the fear I feel when I wake up is beyond anything I have ever experienced in my life. I don't scream but for a couple of seconds am totally disoriented and, as I said, in a state of complete and utter terror. It takes a while to subside, too - the idea of going back to sleep and having to go through it again (unlikely, I know) is unbearable.

Several things bother me about this dream (quite apart from its extreme unpleasantness). One is the fact that it's repetitive, although not frequent. If it happened often, I'd talk to a doctor, but I don't feel that's an option yet. Why should the dream always be the same, though?

Another is wondering just what it is that's behind the door. It's obviously something that I'm deeply afraid of, but I have no idea what it could be. As far as I'm aware, I don't have any real fears or phobias. What's triggering this in me? I don't believe in ghosts, or evil spirits, but the closest description I could find for what's behind the door is total and utter malevolence and it fucking terrifies me.

Even thinking about having the dream makes me a bit shaky, somewhere inside. The thought of opening that door and coming face to face with whatever's inside is beyond any tolerance I'm capable of.

That's it, really. I feel slightly better having committed all this to paper (you know what I mean) and finally got it out of my system. No answers, though.
(, Thu 18 Sep 2014, 3:56, 7 replies)
The first time I read 'Oh Whistle and I'll Come to You my Lad' I was a bit spooked out.
(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 21:39, 4 replies)
A really scary skellington

(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 21:25, Reply)
men with weak and clammy handshakes

(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 17:57, 22 replies)
I fear that the Scots will vote to leave the Union and then spend the rest of eternity looking for handouts because the 28 billion barrels of oil and gas do not exist..
(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 16:35, 10 replies)
Anxiety attacks
I'm beginning to get them. I don't know why. Fear of them makes it hard to sleep. Anxiety is making me anxious.
(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 14:52, 8 replies)
i'm terrified of people deleting VERY IMPORTANT THINGS that have been said on the internet

(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 12:11, 18 replies)
It all started when our protagonist, Rob Manuel, woke up in a thicket. It was the fifth time it had happened. Feeling very concerned, Rob Manuel stroked a paper clip, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). A few minutes later, he realized that his beloved rape whistle was missing! Immediately he called his sworn enemy, your mum. Rob Manuel had known your mum for (plus or minus) 1.2 billion years, the majority of which were electric ones. your mum was unique. She was congenial though sometimes a little... stupid. Rob Manuel called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.

your mum picked up to a very unctuous Rob Manuel. your mum calmly assured him that most beavers yawn before mating, yet capybaras usually charismatically yawn *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Rob Manuel. Why was your mum trying to distract Rob Manuel? Because she had snuck out from Rob Manuel's with the rape whistle only four days prior. It was a exotic little rape whistle... how could she resist?

It didn't take long before Rob Manuel got back to the subject at hand: his rape whistle. your mum belched. Relunctantly, your mum invited him over, assuring him they'd find the rape whistle. Rob Manuel grabbed his microwave and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, your mum realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the rape whistle and she had to do it aimlessly. She figured that if Rob Manuel took the ricer, she had take at least five minutes before Rob Manuel would get there. But if he took the Morris Minor? Then your mum would be abnormally screwed.

Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, your mum was interrupted by eight oafish bloodhounds that were lured by her rape whistle. your mum sneezed; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling displeased, she aggressively reached for her mitten and carefully deflowered every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the desert, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the Morris Minor rolling up. It was Rob Manuel.


As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Egg Roll King to pick up a 12-pack of salt shakers, so he knew he was running late. With a apt leap, Rob Manuel was out of the Morris Minor and went surreptitiously jaunting toward your mum's front door. Meanwhile inside, your mum was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the rape whistle into a box of salt shakers and then slid the box behind her ironing board. your mum was angered but at least the rape whistle was concealed. The doorbell rang.

'Come in,' your mum scandalously purred. With a heroic push, Rob Manuel opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some oafish idiot in a Geo Metro,' he lied. 'It's fine,' your mum assured him. Rob Manuel took a seat proximate to where your mum had hidden the rape whistle. your mum belched trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Rob Manuel was distracted. Rather abruptly, your mum noticed a dimwitted look on Rob Manuel's face. Rob Manuel slowly opened his mouth to speak.

'...What's that smell?'

your mum felt a stabbing pain in her foot when Rob Manuel asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the rape whistle right by her oscillating fanny. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A insensitive look started to form on Rob Manuel's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's staplers from when she used to have pet otters. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Rob Manuel nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before your mum could react, Rob Manuel fearlessly lunged toward the box and opened it. The rape whistle was plainly in view.

Rob Manuel stared at your mum for what what must've been five seconds. Unexpectedly, your mum groped explosively in Rob Manuel's direction, clearly desperate. Rob Manuel grabbed the rape whistle and bolted for the door. It was locked. your mum let out a flamboyant chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Rob Manuel,' she rebuked. your mum always had been a little selfish, so Rob Manuel knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before your mum did something crazy, like... start chucking mittens at her or something. Almost immediately, he gripped his rape whistle tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

your mum looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Rob Manuel. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eleven days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Rob Manuel. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. your mum walked over to the window and looked down. Rob Manuel was gone.

Just yonder, Rob Manuel was struggling to make his way through the moor behind your mum's place. Rob Manuel had severely hurt his abdomen during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral bloodhounds suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the rape whistle. One by one they latched on to Rob Manuel. Already weakened from his injury, Rob Manuel yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of bloodhounds running off with his rape whistle.

About eleven hours later, Rob Manuel awoke, his face throbbing. It was dark and Rob Manuel did not know where he was. Deep in the arid moor, Rob Manuel was really lost. Soon afterward, he remembered that his rape whistle was taken by the bloodhounds. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life. That's when, to his horror, a oversized bloodhound emerged from the desert. It was the alpha bloodhound. Rob Manuel opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the bloodhound sunk its teeth into Rob Manuel's butt. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Rob Manuel's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

Less than two miles away, your mum was entombed by anguish over the loss of the rape whistle. 'MY PRECIOUS!!' she cried, as she reached for a sharpened spoon. With a mighty thrust, she buried it deeply into her back. As the room began to fade to black, she thought about Rob Manuel... wishing she had found the courage to tell him that she loved him. But she would die alone that day. All that remained was the rape whistle that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise. And as the dew on melancholy sappling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant bloodhounds, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come. Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(
(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 1:56, 23 replies)
I used to go out with a girl who was afraid of anything pointed at her face.
Pretty much from any distance. Didn't matter about what said pointed thing was, how sharp or blunt or even who was doing the pointing - she would just freak out and have a mini-drama over it.
What I would do, say at a party would be to catch her eye across the room and then give her the fore-finger and cocked thumb. She'd wince and come over to chastise me for teasing her. Sexy teim would often then ensue.
Strangely enough she had no qualms about having my one-eyed trouser snake pointed at her face and often relished giving some of the best bjs I've ever had.
Sadly she was as crazy as a fruitloop is round so thankfully I managed to not breed with her or stay in a long term committed relationship with her.
(, Wed 17 Sep 2014, 1:11, 10 replies)
I fear that one day, when Rob pulls the plug on this place
that all we have written and photoshopped will disappear. If I had the print credit at work, I'd get going on 'b3ta: the book.'
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 23:05, 16 replies)
I hope Dr Skagra dies in a fire.

(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 21:55, 41 replies)
I Fear Nothing
Hello, Sweeties!


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!


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.


No... thing...




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


[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.]
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 21:48, 14 replies)
I'm quite scared of the dark
especially in Peckham
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 15:19, 6 replies)
As a young lad I was stricken with a condition whereby I was terrified of micturating in front of others. If anyone so much as entered a public lavatory my bladder would tighten like Simon Cowell's trousers, leaving me unable to squeeze put even the slightest dribble, even when I was dying to pee. If I was in the bath, though, the warm womb water would soothe me. Long story short, I pissed in my own mouth.
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 15:14, 2 replies)
My GF has two phobias, one is pretty normal the other is genuinely strange. She is terrified of spiders, OK I can understand that one. The other irrational fear is uncooked potatoes, particularly those with a small amount of soil still attached. She can't articulate what exactly she is frightened of them doing to her, but whatever it is, she goes into a state of panic when faced with the dirty naked tuber. When cooked however, the danger is over and she is quite happy to eat chips, mash and roasties. I can't explain it, and neither can she.
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 12:54, 22 replies)
I fear running out of coffee
if only there was somewhere online I could buy delicious fresh coffee in a 250g bag and have it delivered straight to my door.

Oh woe is me.
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 12:42, 3 replies)
Stymied by teh ugliy
I used to go to school with a girl who combined the Big Two phobias: "fear of spent matches" and "fear of elastic bands".

For a while I toyed with the idea of manipulating her fears to get her into bed but she was just too ugly. I was delighted to find that I had some standards, after all.
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 10:02, 2 replies)
People who chew gum with their mouth open
They look like a cow chewing the cud and it makes me want to sick in my mouth.
(, Tue 16 Sep 2014, 2:14, 6 replies)
Reborn Dolls
I am a father of 4, all healthy babies, however I know a few other people who have not been so lucky.

There seems to be a trend for people to buy these 'reborn' dolls and have them customised to resemble their dead baby.


I have seen some of these first hand (not actual replacements, but demonstration ones) and I find the whole concept disturbing.

I am sure they have their place, and people find comfort in them, but they really really freak me out!!
(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 17:56, 33 replies)
Narcissists are frightening people. Always thinking everything is about them and other people are just stalkers or worse.

(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 13:29, 13 replies)
Guy I know has a phobia of tissue paper.
You might think that brandishing a roll of kitchen towel at him would be excellent fun, but it genuinely triggers a fight-or-flight response and he punches people in the face.
(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 11:13, 6 replies)
I'm scared
of being bullied on anonymous internet message boards.
(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 10:05, 18 replies)
I fear going insane. Luckily I'm able to stay sane by having regular conversations with my shoe

(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 5:21, 10 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.
(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 1:55, 18 replies)
The dancing spider
I once trapped a huge spider in a Ferrero Rocher box, when it made a sudden appearance on the bedroom windowsill right by my elbow, as I was enjoying a spliff one balmy summer's night. Huge really was the word, too - big body and long legs.

As terrified as I can be by these sinister spawn of nightmare, once it was safely locked inside a perspex box it became really interesting and I spent some time studying its loathsomeness at close quarters.

Finally it was time to go to bed and, in a spliffy haze, I put the box on top of the bedside lampshade so I could watch it for a little while longer before I fell asleep.

It was quite still at first, then began to explore it's surroundings, moving across the base of the box. It obviously wasn't happy in captivity but I hadn't expected the degree of fury it showed by getting more and more agitated inside the box.

It ended up (quite literally) violently dancing around the box, all its legs pumping up and down like some arachnophobic Riverdance, before flipping over onto its back and twitching a bit before lying still.

It was only then that I remembered that spiders have their nerve-endings in their feet. Not only had I killed a spider, I had in effect tortured it by sitting the box almost directly on top of a hot lightbulb and baking it to death.

I almost felt guilty. Then I remembered that it was a spider and rejoiced in my inadvertent ingenuity. Then I felt guilty again. Then rejoiced.

I will probably burn in spider hell for this.
(, Mon 15 Sep 2014, 1:39, 26 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1