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This is a question Local Nutters

Everywhere in the world has its fair share of deranged people. I grew up in Wolverhampton and remember the Polish tramp who lived in a tent on the roundabout. Legend had it that his coat was stuffed with cash. More recently I notice the guy who spends his day pushing a trolley round Camden Sainsburys shouting, "Best of luck!". Constantly. Tell us about your local nutters. Points for details. Extra points for photos.

(, Thu 16 Sep 2004, 11:54)
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This question is now closed.

Oh yeah, and the cross dressing cockney, Lawrence, that goes to Hartlepool FC matches wearing a Crystal Palace shirt and shouts at the top of his voice. I think he got banned for a season for hitting someone. He laughs like a hyena.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 16:40, Reply)
When I was a nipper
There used to be a girl who wasn't the brightest spark who used to let us feel her massive baps when we were about 13 and she was 18. I then one day decided to try downstairs and put a couple of fingers in. I ran home crying as her muff smelt of rotten fish and I was terrified that my mum would smell it.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 16:22, Reply)
Lewisham's full of 'em
..most notably 'Lord Lambrini' who as I strolled to the DLR at 7.30ish each morning would stagger down the high street cackling insanely to himself whilst clutching a bottle of said tipple in each grubby paw. Dreadlocked and covered in shit n piss he would sometimes change his approach by pissing up McDonald's with a can of Kestrel Super gripped in his rotting teeth.

Loved him - no shame.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 16:21, Reply)
The Brockley Billy Bragg
SE London - Brockley/Honor Oak Park/Forest Hill, bloke with guitar, always flailing his arms around, shouting (he sounds a bit like Billy Bragg) usually getting kicked out of shops for scaring customers.

My Mam and Dad come down to visit one weekend, Dad pops to the shops to get some milk, sees the curly headed odd-bod having trouble with his cycle. My Dad comes back to the flat to fetch some spanners, and helps him fix his bike. The wierdo thanks my Dad, "Cheers mate, I tried to borrow a spanner off the milkman, but he said he didn't have one. I showed him though. I nicked his glasses." No sooner has he said this, the milk float screeches round the corner, the milkman jumps off, "YOU'VE GOT MY SPECS YOU THIEVING CUNT" My Dad walks off as the scuffle ensues.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 16:19, Reply)
I saw him about 4 months ago, but according to people I know who still work in Bath Road hes not as usual as he used to be.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 14:35, Reply)
Re Cheltenham, Bath Road area
I thought about nominating Derek but I'm not convinced about the truth behind him. Is he really loaded? A girl who worked in Threshers told me he was but then she was fucking mental herself - she lived with 1) a satanist who looked like a rat and had an inverted cucifix tattooed on his back and 2) a witch-girl who used to show visitors naked pictures of herself. I remember Derek wore an old Cheltonian tie but I don't see that as proof of extreme affluence. We'd never heard anything about him at school - obviously not one for the headmaster to bring up in assembly but you would think if some local brain fried wino was a product of your school you would hear about it. Besides, I could walk around London wearing an MC tie shouting 'Clitmonkeys all of you!' to my heart's content but it wouldn't mean I knew anything about cricket.

Is Derek still alive?
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 14:22, Reply)
Kentish Town Classic
When I was at college in Kentish Town about ten years ago there was a black guy in his 40s who used to walk in the road (in a kind of mincing racing-walk style), sweatband round head with full bright blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick, in a leotard with a pair of pink knickers on over the top.

As if this wasn't sufficiently entertaining he had an empty, squashed water bottle tucked into said knickers and a handwritten sign affixed to his arse that read 'squeeze bottle for sex'.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:50, Reply)
Streatham/Brixton Nutters
I live just off the Streatham High Road, and if you've ever been there, you'll know there's any number of nutters that I could tell you about. But the one I see most often is the guy begging by the traffic lights on the south circular (next to the Crown & Sceptre Wetherspoons). He's a black guy with a beard, always wearing different clothes every day - usually pretty smart sports/casual, nice trainers, so he cant be a tramp. When the traffic lights go red he walks amongst the cars holding his hand out for money in the most pathetic way. He's always clutching a tin of special brew and smiling and talking to himself. One morning, in full rush hour traffic I saw him outside the McDonalds near Brixton tube having a piss in the road. He'd found a drain grill in the road, pulled out his cock and unleashed a steaming river of piss with a look of pure bliss on his face!
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:33, Reply)
The Laughing Paki
I'm really sorry about his name - not my choice you understand (having read through the sick jokes selection I felt I was going to be OK here though).

He was widely travelled throughout Hampshire - definitely spotted in Winchester, Eastleigh, Southampton and Basingstoke in the mid 80s. He was a middle-aged Asian man dressed in funky 70s polyester sky-blue wears, laughing insanely and saying 'you nutter, you nutter' repeatedly to anyone who'd hear him.

I'm afraid we used to follow him around when bored, goading his catchphrase out of him.

He was once spotted crapping off the Itchen bridge in Southampton, in broad daylight.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:25, Reply)
My brother was once chased down Kilburn High Road (a Mecca for loonies only surpassed by Kentish Town High Street) by a piss-soaked man shaking his fist and bellowing 'de Oirish are de feckin best'. I think my brother had foolishly replied 'no, they're not'.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:19, Reply)
'Weirdy Beardy'
This guy was a beaut. He used to stagger around Winchester high street, occasionally playing his acoustic guitar which had only one string.

I once had the pleasure of witnessing him pull out his grubby cock and urinate into the drain outside NatWest on a Saturday afternoon. He looked like Charles Manson. A lot.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:16, Reply)
Camden Sainsbury's 'The Best of Luck' Man
His name is 'Horace' - except it didn't use to be, it used to be something else, apparently. If you call him by his old name he goes (more) mental. He has a bag with 'I am Horace, the white black man' written on it.

He has a thing about Sainsburys in particular - I work in North Finchley and he's a regular there too.

How many other branches does 'the white black man' frequent? Anyone know of others?
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:13, Reply)
Nutty Bournemouth Busker
There used to be an old boy in Bournemouth town centre who'd busk with his guitar. Old fella with white beard, black plastic nhs specs, usually a battered old hat. Quite trampy looking.
He'd start a song by bashing at the string(s), then he'd stop have a bit of a wail, and then...no, he'd give up, the limelight was all too much, so he'd shuffle over and look hopefully in his collection box. Same routine the whole time, never heard him actually play a coherent chord or form a single word. The guitar only had a maximum of 2 strings attached at any given time. The guy was a bit of a legend - you couldnt miss him near the main town square.
I heard that he used to run a newspaper stand (selling the evening echo).
Actually, that reminds me - I was looking through a music mag a while ago and some band had used a photo of him busking on the Christchurch Road in Bournemouth as the cover of a single/ep!
Anyone remember him?!
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 13:01, Reply)
I suppose there must be one everywhere. The smiling madman who goes round collecting rubbish in the estate all day and all night. He will be on life of grime in the future I am sure. His house is probably piled high with fetid rubbish.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 12:49, Reply)
I was walking past a supermarket at about 2am one Sunday night, and a bald young-ish man in what looked almost like a gimp suit jumped out of some bushes and started running at me. He had a kind of old fashioned camera thing mounted on his shoulder and was chanting "What's this? It's your BLOOD!" over and over again while clicking the weird camera thing at me. So I ran off.

That was a bit strange.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 12:13, Reply)
Nutters nearby
Back home, there was a guy who took it upon himself to be the bane of the local council's life, complaining about everything. His biggest gripe was the weeds in he pavement cracks. What did he do to sort this? Complain? Protests? NO. He fashioned a flamethrower from a butane canister and the nozzle off a fire extinguisher, and tried to get rid of the buggers that way.

He was also the one heard shouting "Gaun Yerself, YA Fucking Bastard!" on a live teatime news broadcast from a local greyhound racing track.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 12:00, Reply)
i know lots of wierd people
most of them happen to be my friends. Scary thought that. Anyway, theres a guy who runs the local post office. He sells out of date chocolate, when you ask for skittles he says "SKITTLES? ARE THEY LIKE, FRUIT GUMS??!!". He also drove down the M1 for 2 miles the wrong way without even noticing. Silly sod.

my friend david, bless him, is a bit of a loony. He has the compulsive obsession with rabbi's. I mean the conversdation goes "We had a big rabbit in our garden dave". "Rabbi". "No, rabbit". "Rabbi". Yes David, rabbi. ANyway, this rabbit-" "Rabbi"

(surpressed rage)

Also, my firend told me he heard this guy in scarboro singing "you scrubbed your hairy minge and shaved of all your hair".

How odd.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 11:53, Reply)
Has anyone encountered
this oldish guy on the bus nb 29, spending his entire journey saying "Go back to school you stupid twat" to whomever sits besides him. I've encountered him a few times, no idea where he gets on or get off.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 11:52, Reply)
Local Bus driver
I remember after school we'd sometimes get this old busdriver with big glasses and a gummy mouth. Hes guarenteed to say "alright mary?" when he prints out the bus ticket, its a reflex. Its always gives me a smile when he turns up as the driver. I see him around about twice a year.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 11:34, Reply)
Soho 20p Man
Don't know if he's still around or if he's dead or dying or something, but this guy used to sit around in the street next to Bar Chocolate on D'Arblay Street. He wandered around from time to time but that was his usual spot. He looked like Yaphet Kotto/Junk Yard Dog and used to smoke the fattest joints whilst drinking pints of champagne with ice. And he always wore about a million coats regardless of the weather. He'd shout "20p! Got 20p?!" at everyone who walked past, occasionally upping it to 50p and once I heard, even a pound.

One time I tried to talk to him when he wandered into Prime Time video on Berwick St where I worked. He gave me this blank stare, pointed at the TV which was showing Toy Story, yelled "20p! Fuck!" and then went outside and puked.

I miss him and I hope he's still alive and nuts.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 11:23, Reply)
Golf course lane, Leicester.
Pop down there if you get a chance, you'll sometimes see a couple of inbred gypsies riding naked on horseback.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 10:52, Reply)
Mad Maurine
There's a crazy woman lives down the road I grew up in, went to see my Mum the other day and she's still there and still crazy as ever.

Woman by the name of Maurine, lives at number six. Bad house, scary house, even more derelict that I remember. Pebbledash falling off the walls, six foot of grass growing in the front garden. The lead yellow paint flaked rotting wooden doors hang from their rusty hinges.

As kids we used to rush past as quickly as possible, Mad Maurine had a tendency to stand in the drive and shout obscene abuse at anyone who passed. To tell you the truth most people crossed to the other side of the road if she was about.

"FUCK OFF CUNTS", she would shout. Us kids learnt most our swearing from Maurine.


Some days from a safe hiding place you could witness her weekly crazy trip up our road to the local shops. She always returned from the shops with two carrier bags of shopping. The mad thing was she could only carry one at a time. So she'd walk about twenty paces with one, put it on the floor and walk back to the other one she'd left twenty paces behind, then it'd be a walk 20 paces past the first one and repeat.

I've never bothered to sit and work it out but I bet that mathematically she'd done more than two trips to the shops doing so.

Then there was her tendency to throw things at kids, half bricks, empty milk bottles, sticks, dog shit, anything she could get her hands on. From which arose the following rhyme that has stayed with me ever since.

"Sticks stick, bottles and bricks,
they're all thrown from Number Six."

(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 10:19, Reply)
In my quiet, suburban country town...
there lives an old drunkard who wanders around muttering about...I dunno, whatever nutters mutter about. You know the kind of guy, you hear him at the bus stop talking to his dog about the quality of what's on the radio nowadays etc etc. One day my friend and I were waiting for another friend outside her flats. This old chap wanders by, pauses when he sees us, scurries over and shouts "THE HIGH SEAS" in our faces (note, we're 16 year old girls). We wimper and scuttle away to hide until he's gone away. Needless to say, we made our friend meet us somewhere else from then on.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 10:05, Reply)
In the country
Seem to be a lot more nutters, where I grew up I remember a guy in his 70's nicknamed 'smiler' because he inanely grinned constantly for no reason, and mumbled bullshit whenever you saw him, usually in the one pub this village had. He still lives with his sister......
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 9:57, Reply)
granny fanny
About 5 years ago I still lived at home with my parents and 5 younger brothers. Mum, Dad and some of the littler ones were away for the weekend so me and the next eldest had a party on the Saturday night. It was pretty big and didn't finish up til sunrise.

A few of my brother's mates had slept in various beds in the house and one of these lads was woken up at about 9am by something tickling his toes. He looked up, still in a groggy haze to see an old lady playing with his toes and giggling at him. He was a little freaked out but went up to my brothers bedroom to tell him that our grandma was here.

"Don't worry, she comes over all the time" said my brother through his bedroom door...which was true. She used to come in and out of our place at will. My brother went back to sleep.

My brother got up an hour or two later and went downstairs. A few of his mates were watching tv and starting a bit of a cleanup. In the kitchen was the old lady, mucking around in the sink and wearing a white blouse type thing...and nothing else. She was totally naked waist down with her old lady ass and old lady muff and old lady legs on display for young and old. It definitely wasn't our grandma.

"Dude, you didn't say she was naked."
"I just thought your grandma was weird" or something to that effect.

It was the old lady from down the road. Her Alzheimers had kicked in and she had no idea what she was doing.

Best thing is, my brother and his mate walked her two doors down back to her place. But since it was sunday, all the punters from the church down the road were returning to their cars parked in our street (perfect timing) and had to cop my bro and his mate with a naked old lady.
The charming lads didn't even give her a towel to wrap around her waist.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 6:19, Reply)
There is a morbidly obese family down the street, use to be our neighbours, but we moved into a different house. Like I said, they're huge, and every other week they seem to get a new dog, but you only see 2 out in the backyard, one little dachshund that looks like a fucking hot dog wiener, the things so fat it can't even bark. and I have no idea about the second one, havent passed their house in ages. they've been living in that house as long as I was alive, And I still dont know what happened to all the other dogs. You'd think they'd be flying out the windows.

There was a crazy woman who lived in the house just left of the one I'm in now but one day, she dissapeared. But before that some little wankers snuck in our back yard and broke down the lady's wooden fence, leaving only our metal fence. She wasn't please at all, so she called the police, Guess who got blamed! Me of course. I talked my way out of it (i'm like that) and got off with a warning. This lady owned a dog that looked like a miniature bear, but when the people across the street's dog saw it, it fucking lost its marbles and hopped the fence, attacking the beardog. About killed it too!
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 5:40, Reply)
Talk, damn you!
We used to have a guy who wandered around the outskirts of a local college dressed in a suit and tie, crocheted shawl (one of those fringey grandma things) and a shriner's fez, complete with tassel. He used to stand on the streetcorners shaking his fists and waving his arms and lecturing passing cars at the top of his lungs. (The story was, of course, that he was a professor of some kind who had snapped.) I once saw him interrogate a shrubbery. He always carried a walking cane, and on this occasion he was using it to beat the hell out of a clump of bushes while swearing at them wildly and demanding that they confess.

By the way, do street preachers count? They're as common as dogshit where I live, and generally considered fair game by Those Of Us Who Like To Fuck With People Who Need Fucking With.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 5:03, Reply)
One oddball from donington, the other from leicester.
He hasn't been around here for a few years, but there was a bloke called Johnny Gigalo who used to tell the most fantastic stories. He once regailed us with a yarn which explained why we hadn't seen him for a few days.

His story goes a bit like this....
"I was cycling back from scotland (note donington is in the centre of england...), when the front tyre on me' bike blew up. So I wheelied most of the way back, when this truck jack-knifed in the middle of a bridge. I had to slide underneath it, but then I flipped up and somersaulted over the side of the bridge.
I landed in a convertible ferrari with loads of women in it. They all started shouting "Go Johnny, Go!" so i drove back to dono."

He was a bit psychotic, as well as being older, so noone mentioned the obvious flaws in this story. It was just one of many though.

Another freak that I've seen before is from somewhere near leicester.
I've seen him in 2 clubs now, the Emporium in coalville, and Nocturnels in leicester.
He turns up at a club, goes stright to the front of the DJ booth, then proceeds to run on the spot for a few hours. Then jogs away when he's done.
He does this dressed in 80's tennis/jogging style clothing, and has been doing so for a few years.
(, Mon 20 Sep 2004, 2:46, Reply)
Bridgwater, a place to fear.
In the lovely (see: terrifying) little town of Bridgwater, there's an old man who thinks he's either a bus or a large truck, depending on the day. When he's being a bus, he'll run along the roads and try to pick up various bewildered people waiting at bus stops. When he's in truck mode, he spends a lot of his time reversing into parking spaces, beeping to alert anyone nearby that, WOAH, A TRUCK IS COMING. Totally fucking insane. Still, he stops for traffic lights and everything.
(, Sun 19 Sep 2004, 23:11, Reply)
I work on the Deli counter in Somerfield.
It's shit. Every single customer seems to be either blind, illiterate or socially retarded. None more than the gentleman who ran up, puffing and panting, to say "GIVE ME SOME CHEESE!". Nothing particularly unusual about that apart from the fact that he was quite clearly masturbating furiously, staring at me with a mad little glint in his eye.
I hate my job.
(, Sun 19 Sep 2004, 20:02, Reply)

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