OK all you fucking pommy gits
You've tortured me with all of your no-one-knows-who-the-fuck-they-are-beyond-Swindon nobodies, now I'm going to bore you with no-one-knows-who-the-fuck-they-are-beyond-Springvale nobodies, and you deserve it.

I once met Humphrey B. Flaubert from TISM. Actually, I've met him a couple of times. Lovely, lovely person, and I acted like an utter self-pitying twat on both occasions (although if Humphrey wants to get better fans he should stop writing songs like If You're Ugly Forget It).
(Emily Bruce-Dickinson http://jovialfellow.blogspot.com/, Fri 26 May 2006, 15:04, Reply)

Don't let status go to your head!
Don't let status go to your head!
Got dragged to some chavtastic Max Power event in Birmingham a few years back.

Was incredibly pissed and waiting to buy some drinks to top up the alcohol level, when some woman barges past saying "MOVE" and stands in front of me in the queue, much to my annoyance I asked who the fuck she thought she was, only to be told "Jackie Degg, SWEETHEART, That's who"

"Good for you love, I'm in need of a pint, back of the line you rude cunt!"

Bar full of chavs looking gob smacked that I had said this to some model, and her face was a picture, to the fact that I hadn't dropped to my knees and let her through.

Spent the rest of the day twatted, arguing with chavs who had spent a fortune doing up 106's and Ford Escorts, saying they could have bought a better car for the money they had spent polishing a turd!

Oh happy days!
(DiamonKn My Nan Smells of Twigs, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:50, Reply)

When I was 12
I met Mark Owen of Take That fame backstage at one of their concerts.

He was shorter than me and wearing a fluffy, slightly stained, pink dressing gown. He wouldn't let me take his picture either.

Cunt.
(Samara Morgan is a small blue thing, like a marble or an eye, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:44, Reply)

freaky dancer...
Met Bez at a dingy disco in Manchester. He was off his tits, gave us some drugs and the remains of his pint which had Guinness, tequila, quantro, whisky and speed all in the same glass. Or so he said. Didn't drink it though, it stank and he looked a bit trampy. He was very friendly but ultimately, i didnt understand a single word he said, but i think he slurred that he was living in his mates garden.
(balboa, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:43, Reply)

mani's the man
having entrusted my beanbag in a crowded houseparty to close friends, you can only imagine my thunder on returning from a 40 minute trek through a sea of emos and grebs for booze from the kitchen to find it was nabbed.

thunder became speechlessness when mani (bass legend of primal scream and stone fookin roses fame) jumped up and offered it me back insisting i call him gary. if i liked.

heroes with manners. well worth meeting.

i saw vorderman on the tube one day and she scowled like the lead singer of lordi.

arrogant cow.
(chives, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:40, Reply)

No Hero of Mine
I saw Prince Andrew at the Food & Drink World Exhibition in Docklands in March 2005. He's more wanker than hero, and he was being a wanker making smarmy comments to the girls on the stands, so it wasn't really very disappointing and this post has no relevance to the subject what so ever.
(Crippled Spider, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:39, Reply)

Sean Penn
About to duck into a sex shop in Soho to update my catalogue and get Ben Dover's latest. Guy walks out and I held the door for him...twas Sean Penn - hat and sunglasses for disguise. I gasped and said "You're Sean Penn" him holding a magazine and DVD in a bag. A moment of awkwardness, before I said "greatest comtemporary actor of my generation, I love your work", to which he replied "thanks....enjoy your purchases..." - It's such a relief to know that such a famous guy wanks like the rest of us...tree hugging hippie!
(essbeenz there done that, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:26, Reply)

Now then now then.
I met Jimmy Saville (for the first time, he keeps popping up wherever I go) half way up Ben Nevis, he asked me "which way's down?" and I ignored him as I thought he was a strange creepy old man.

It didn't change my opinoin of him though, just reinforced his image.
(freddiestarfish, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:17, Reply)

Breakers Revenge
Last year I nearly added to the hip hop death register by nearly putting the immeasurably historically important Arthur Baker under a lorry on Old Street whilst not looking where I was walking.
A few months later I performed an almost identical manoeuvre on punk legend and general genius Don Letts about ten yards from where the 'Baker Incident' occurred.
If you're reading, sorry, chaps.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 26 May 2006, 14:00, Reply)

Mention of running over and Robert Plant reminds me...
Driving through the lovely midlandsish countryside (ugh) with the ex in the green metro.

Robert Plant just pops out of nowhere, as he usually does.

We always said we'd get him next time...

My sister was mortified when I told her.

I don't think he'd have appreciated us stopping to ask for an autograph, after nearly running him down.
(Hanargh, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:55, Reply)

Lou Reed
what a legend! imagine working in a venue he was coming to! my friend was and was sorely disappointed to find out that one of his standard requests is that no staff in the venue are allowed to make eye-contact with him. what a nob. What's worse is someone did make eye contact with him and he saw that they got in trouble for it! too many drugs - he's viscious!
(bloodyHassocks, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:49, Reply)

Not really heroes but....
Ray Davies of the Kinks nearly ran me over in Soho Square.

Emlyn Hughes nearly ran me over in my home town.

I was once nearly run over by a giant Cadbury's creme egg.

Notice a trend here?

I LOVE the length and the girth - more please!
(Buxomwench, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:42, Reply)

Matthew Smith, of Manic Miner and Jetset Willy fame.
Met him at some games festival in Nottingham last year. He's the scruffiest person alive, he looks like he's never ever shaved and has severe problems with bodily odour.

I asked him for his autograph and he was eating a pizza at the time. Instead of a napkin, he just wiped his messy pizza-fingers down the front of his clothes, the dirty bastard.

But - apart from that he turned out to be a bloody nice chap, so I wasn't that disappointed. We got into a discussion about how awful Commodore 64 Basic was - and he was sticking up for it the fool!

EDIT: Oh yeah, and at the end of the festival there was a video-games quiz and Matthew's team won. Their prize? A fucking Spectrum! I ask you!
(jimi.vicious regrets criticising the American electoral system!, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:42, Reply)

Celebrity Encounters? I've had a few...
One of the best was briefly meeting Adam Ant the day before he went mental with the starter pistol in Kentish Town. He was clearly not in a good place, dressed like a complete cooont and rambling nonsense. He was trying to get a tattoo and provided his own design (I was waiting in the tattoo shop in Soho) which looked like a five year old's scribble. About 10 seconds after he left the shop I popped my head out of the door and Graham Norton walked past.

I also saw Kathy Burke, I would have stopped her and said hello but there were some very drunk people nearby who clocked her at the same moment I did and the look on her face said "please don't stop me because they'll come and hassle me too". So I left it.

My missus met Julie Walters who stopped filming the thing she was doing and came and had a cup of tea and a chat with her - she was really nice apparently. And current Birmingham City manager, then Man United defender Steve Bruce used to live opposite my gran, he gave us loads of free match tickets and we gave his son chicken pox... he was really nice over and above the call of duty!

My length is long, my girth is wide, lie down lady & I'll put it inside...
(keeferreefer, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:37, Reply)

big oops...
My cousin was in a music shop looking for a secondhand trombone to buy when Martin Clunes walked in. My cousin was a fan of his and wanted to say something to him, so he said the first thing that came into his head: 'Hey mate, have you got a trombone for sale?'
Martin Clunes looked at him a little strangely, but replied politely in the negative.
Upon which, my cousin replied 'Oh ok, I just thought, with those lips...'
I think he still wants to apologise, so Martin, if you're reading this, he's really sorry!
(Hermioninny, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:36, Reply)

A true hero
As child of the 70s/80s I was a radical punk as a youngster and went on loads of demos. At most of the rallies, Michel Foot would be the main speaker, he would always march at the front in a donkey jacket - a truly great and honourable man.....

...fast-forward 25 years to 2004 and I finally met him face-to-face. Sadly at my uncle's funeral, they were both old-time lefties of the first water. Michel by then must have been well into his late 80s and was very frail, but he shook my hand firmly enough. Made my decade.

I also raised a glass to Neil Kinnock at the Watermans Arts Centre in Brentford in about 1987, when he was at the peak of his power in the Labour party and it looked as if he really could kick Maggie's butt. He said 'Cheers boyo' or something and winked at me!

[where are the heroes of yesteryear?]
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:36, Reply)

I wish I'd been there
but this honour belongs to my mate Nick. He works in the comic shop in Bath, which is above Nashers Records, a renowned second hand vinyl shop frequented by many sleb types. One morning, Nick was there early opening up, and heard Nasher's door ( the only entrance ) go so, being a good employee went down to see what was afoot. He saw the silhouette of a middle-aged long-haired bloke with an armful of records ( lights not on yet ). Bloke puts them on the counter and says " how much for these?". Nick replies " the lights are off, there's nobody here, it's closed" at the exact moment he realised he was chucking Robert Plant out of the shop.
( uncle bastard is twanging a dan moi, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:27, Reply)

Dave Benson Phillips
I saw Dave Benson Phillips in his room when he was on tour,I was expecting him to jump around shouting loudly, but he didn't...
It doesn't matter though because it made me laugh
(mookiepookie 1 third of a spoon, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:24, Reply)

heroes, possibly not.
These guys aren't exactly heroes of mine, but I used to work in a theatre Oop north and got to meet my fair share of c-listers.

The only one that stands out as being the nicest guy I could hope to meet was Bernie Clifton (of stupid emu riding fame). No stories about it, he was just a really nice guy.

The biggest wanker it has ever been my misfortune to meet was Keith Harris. I was working the panto one year with him and Grotbags (carol someone, I can't recall her second name) And I had a massive asthma attack and was rushed to hospital. While I was in hospital. My flat was burgled and everything was nicked including my wages for the panto (which quite a lot) from the theatre and my car (presumably to put everything in). Everyone had a whip round and the turns put in money that was proportional to their salary (hey, I was a nice guy and tried to help in any way possible). That miserable tight arsed twat put in £2. I wish I'd glued the bastard green turd's beak closed now instead of bottling it at the last moment.

Oh and another nice person was Berri (or Becka as she is really called) You might remeber 'Sunshine after the rain' a fair few years ago. Got to No. 1 or something. She was doing panto and afterwards invited me and my then missus down to stay in her pad in London. Never did take her up on the offer.

POP!
(Mark S., Fri 26 May 2006, 13:24, Reply)

Ant McPartlin
Was sat on the stairs in the Newcastle Carling Academy with a face like a smacked arse. He made an effort if you went over to talk to him but he could've looked a bit more cheery, especially since I didn't nearly bray him for chatting up my lass.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:22, Reply)

PWEI on a daily basis
When I did music at college, two of my lecturers were members of Pop Will Eat Itself (Rich, bassist and Fuzz, drummer). Not their biggest fan, but I did feel a little bit starstruck.

Really cool guys, both really funny and quite charming, although one of them did tell me that PWEI stopped playing together after an argument because one of them nicked all of the money from tshirt sales to buy expensive clothes with. I do know which one this was, and to be fair to him, he always looks pretty swish, but I wouldn't want him to be mobbed by angry fans who are still living that grebo dream. So for that reason he shall remain annonymous.
(Hanargh, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:21, Reply)

Anthony Hutton
Not really a hero but a Z list celeb. I saw him off his tits outside Tiger Tiger in Newcastle with some right nasty munters hanging round his neck. Being fairly mortal myself I went up and said 'Hello'. He staggered over to me, nicked my kebab and was sick on my shoes. I call him a cunt.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:18, Reply)

rubbish I am
Being so old as I am, as a kiddy I bunked off school to meet the divine Peter Murphy of Bauhaus at a record signing in Brum. Facing him all I could think of to say was "how's the pneumonia?" He looked at me like an indulgant (if slightly hazy) parent and smiled that he was much better. {cue swooning 15 yr old schoolgirl} Poor bloke. Still he was rather super with incredible eyes {am I swooning again all these years later? shame on me)

My sister met Rolf Harris on a plane when she was ten and said he was groovy. Mine's better isn't it.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:18, Reply)

I met Boy George...
...and told him that he dropped his gay card.

He looked, realised what I said, laughed then fucked off.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:15, Reply)

I used to work in an Esso garage
Which, for some unbeknown reason attracted the occasional celebrity visitor during my tenure. Peter Duncan, Lionel Blair and Robert Smith (of the cure) have all set foot on the hallowed turf of the filling station on London Road in Bath.

Anyway, one day Van Morrisson came in and being a polite lad I served him, and thanked him profusely for Astral Weeks, which is a fine, fine album. He merely scowled and walked out, which wasn't a good start in terms of hero-worshop.

I also noticed that the man is so bloody short that be could barely reach over the countertop to sign his recipt. Stike two. You really shouldn't be towering over your heroes like a colossus.

Strike three was that I couldn't help noticing that he paid for his goods with a barclaycard silver. A silver for fucks sake - how loaded must this guy be? Even Robert Smith managed a Barclaycard gold (I had to check it was him and not some lookalike - and it did indeed say Mr R Smith on the card).

So in about 30 seconds I discovered that the artist responsible for the sublime Astral Weeks is in fact a grumpy, tightfisted dwarf. I lost my CD of the album in a move later that year and never bothered to buy another.
(MattDP (Squiggle), Fri 26 May 2006, 13:15, Reply)

Heroes and Villains
I met Gary Lineker, and he was as nice in real life as you'd expect; he even signed my T-Shirt twice because I he messed up the signiture the 1st time.

Not quite a hero, but Jennifer Ellsion from Brookside once pushed in front of me trying to get into the Razz in Liverpool. I was a bit miffed, but retribution came my way because she was refused entry for having no ID!!
(gjb006, Fri 26 May 2006, 13:13, Reply)

To heroes - never meet your fans!
I got pissed and spilt wine on Jools Holland's suede shoes at his after-concert shindig. He was not amused.
Shouldn't have given us a bottle of wine each then, should he?
My mate was then sick on Bag (the trombonist in the Rhythm and Blues Orchestra) and one of the other musicians - the fat one - offered us a threesome.
We were invited back the next year :D
(The Apeface Cherub is not a cunty-uber-cunt, Fri 26 May 2006, 12:57, Reply)

Stu Francis
..of Crackerjack (ahem) 'fame' circa 1983ish. I was 8 and staying in small guesthouse in Devon with the family for the summer holiday.

One morning at breakfast there he was scoffing toast and tea sitting at a table opposite us. I was in awe. STU FRANCIS! 'oooh, I could crush a grape/rip a tissue/piss on me gran' etc..was there in the flesh opposite ME.

So half hour or so passes and I get the courage to go ask him for his autograph just as he was getting up to leave.

'God, will people just LEAVE ME ALONE!' came the distinctly un child entertainer-like reply from his sour, moody looking face.

I nearly died, cried and pissed my pants all in a single moment of total humiliation and despair.

However, we had the last laugh. The next morning my older brother hid a nice, meaty, blood tinged bogey in the butter on his table.

Crush that in your mouth Francis, you fucking cunt.
(Fonkadelix is fucking bored, pass the crack pipe Mavis., Fri 26 May 2006, 12:54, Reply)

Not so Chuckly as I thought
This time, I met another childhood hero* one of the Chuckle Brothers. He was the tall one (can't remember which one he is) but he lived quite near to us.
The bastard nearly ran me over. When I stuck two fingers up at him and shouted "From me - to YOU!" he called me a bitch. Not quite what you'd expect from a children's light entertainer. I was only 10.
:o/

*may not be 100% fact about him being a hero.. but the story's true
(The Apeface Cherub is not a cunty-uber-cunt, Fri 26 May 2006, 12:53, Reply)

Met Gordon Ramsey
Off of 'Hell's Kitchen' in a club in Newquay about a month ago. He was very nice and i managed to touch him without him noticing.
(chili_kitten Cheese, peas and honey bees, Fri 26 May 2006, 12:51, Reply)