A few years back
I got a strange phone-call from a soft spoken Irish-man (or was it a woman?) asking to speak to my mother. I responded with the standard nonchalant "huhhhhhhhhh?.... I'll jus geddherrr..." and then I went back to playing Football Manager or whatever I was doing.

A few minutes later my mum bursts into the room, all redfaced and dancing screaming "THAT WAS DANIEL O'DONNELL!!!!" to which I smiled and shrugged. Of course I know who he is, he may have sold over 10 million records but he's still a granny-grabbing sleazy cunt to me.

Anyway, it turns out that the official "worlds biggest Daniel O'Donnell fan" had popped her clogs, probably O-Ding on Danny O'Dee (nice!) or something. In her will she had left aaaaaalll her DoD records and memorabilia to the second biggest DoD fan on earth, which happenend to be my dear mother.

I may be stretching the extreme of tenuousness but it's a nice-ish story nonetheless...
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 9:34, 1 reply, 17 years ago)

Oh my God
My mate's mother thinks SHE'S his biggest fan, and my cousin's little lad regularly gets his hair bouffanted at Toni & Guy so he thinks HE'S his biggest fan.
Whereas your mum really is his biggest fan, and that's official. Like royal lineage...

It's a bizarre phenomenon, the cult of Daniel.
( Roota zweeeeeoooooowm, Tue 30 Jun 2009, 11:55, Reply)