Swapping spit
In my younger years I was a massive fan of the Manics (before they became absolute shite and more than a bit porky) and James Dean Bradfield was my hero. I was sat outside a venue (Bridlington) a few hours before the concert and Mr Bradfield came sauntering past. He stopped to chat telling me "i'm just off to the shop, back in a mo". I thought he'd never come back, preferring to avoid his drooling fan (me).
Anyhoo... about 10minutes later he came back, offered me some of his strawberry slushpuppy and then corrected my homework which i was doing at the time. Top bloke. The straw was a bit damp though.
(The Apeface Cherub is not a cunty-uber-cunt, Fri 26 May 2006, 12:49, Reply)