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This is a question That's me on TV!

Hotdog asks: Ever been on TV? I once managed to "accidentally" knock Ant (but not Dec) over live on the box.

We last asked this in 2004, but we know you've sabotaged more telly since then

(, Thu 11 Jun 2009, 12:08)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, ... 1

This question is now closed.

busting Busted
Apologies for length, long time reader, first time poster etc.

Let me take you on a journey back to January 2003...

[wavy lines]

Busted are just releasing their single "Year 3000", and have a packed week of publicising. This is the story of how I disrupted two of their major public appearances that week, with out really meaning to, and managed to get on the telly.

Wednesday:
Turns out Busted are doing a publicity signing in the WH Smiths near my college. A lot of my friends at the time were in bands, and trying really hard to make a go of it, but weren't getting anywhere despite lashings of talent. Understandably I wasn't the only one who was pissed that this group of posers who could barely play their own instruments were making it big, while my mates languished in mediocrity. A few of us from college decided to head to the signing after college to make our feelings known, by displaying a crudely made placard reading "Corporate Boyband: F**k Off". Subtle, I know.

Got to the signing, displayed our placard from the floor above the crowd in the shopping centre, but didn't get much notice, so Bannel (for that was his name) and I decided to get into the waiting crowd. Our placard was quickly ripped from Bannel's hands, despite the fact he was on my shoulders, and torn in half. By the time we had retrieved it 'twas in a sorry state, and we were cautioned by a police officer, told not to try and put it back up due to the offensive language. Our point made, we trotted home, content in the knowledge we'd at least spoken out, and perhaps been heard.

Thursday:
Called into the Headmaster's office the second I arrive at school. Turns out that the crowd of teenage lads from other schools I'd seen on the floor above the crowd the day before had decided to get their views across as well. They'd done this by throwing vast quantities of eggs, flour, water and abuse down on to the crowd below, after I'd left the scene. People below had paniced, there'd been a bit of a crush in the crowd to try and get away, several people were trampled, the glass doors to WH Smiths had been broken down. The signing had been cancelled as ambulances screamed onto the scene. The police reckoned this event was planned by elements within several schools, and had identified me and Bannel as the ringleaders, since we were the first to cause any commotion. There was no organisation, I think teenage boys minds all work the same way and saw the same possibility for havoc from the scenario. Took some serious talking to get the head to believe this and avoid suspension, landing a few detentions instead. Bannel wasn't so lucky, losing his place on the rugby team, and his deputy head boyhood (yep, it was one of those colleges). One busted event called off thanks to me (apparently).

Saturday:
Girlfriend somehow manages to land us a pair of tickets to CD:UK, you know: the one presented by Ant&Dec and Cat Deeley after SMTV Live. Guess who are performing their new single?

Queuing outside, meet some crazy Busted groupies, who've been up all night hand sewing the faces of their heroes into their jeans. For some reason they didn't seem too happy to hear of Wednesday's escapades.

Anyway to the heart of the matter: getting on TV. As the show goes out live, the audience are briefed before hand, and told that no matter what you think of a band, you've gotta jump around like Maiden and Metallica have just come out on stage together, and your nads have just been attached to the mains, or else be ejected by the crowd of surly security. I thought I'd take this to heart, would piss the GF off to get ejected.

During Busted's (mimed) song, there was a good length crowd pan, and for about 5 seconds I'm on full view, bouncing like a maniac, giving the band the good old one-fingered salute with both barrels. Watching it on the playback, it's fairly unmissable. Ohhh: same show, the delectable Ms. Deeley can be seen giving a link to camera standing on a box amidst the crowd, and she suddenly squeaks mid-sentence. That was me pinching her arse(and very nice it was too) before merging back into the crowd. Despite that, she carried on with the link, consumate professional that she is. She weren't happy when they went to commercial though.
Even though the GF got more tickets a couple weeks later, never did go back...

Length? About 5 seconds screen time.
(, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 8:58, 2 replies)
bit late
As a society here in the UK we have become used to the creeping surveillance of our every move by the all powerful state apparatus: that a government should have the temerity to say "if you've nothing to hide, you've nothing to fear" is not a statement of policy nor of expectation but of the current UK governments insistence that our right to a private life as enshrined in the European Human Rights Convention is being ridden roughshod over.

But what to do? One can't destroy the surveillance equipment; this would lead to prosecution for criminal damage.

Equally, whilst compulsion is the least attractive option its happening by the backdoor - at any time on the street in London, I'd expect to be visible to 2-3 cameras, which from a purely mental health perspective does nothing for my paranoid delusions.

So for those of us in the UK: live off the grid but I know that this is easier said than done - I can't - but I pay for most things in cash, don't have credit cards (any more...) and am careful to give slightly differing days to anyone who wants it.

Examples of this might be British Gas who believe wrongly that they are supplying someone called Edward; BT believe they supply a chap called Edwrd.

For each record the various suppliers have multiple records meaning that an assessment is too much work.

But,as we are doing UK society are sleepwalking into the nightmare of over surveillance.

/rant
(, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 8:27, 2 replies)
Urban Decay
Once, a friend of mine worked at a record store on a popular street near the university district in Edmonton, Canada. Sam the Record Man, I believe now long gone.

One night, after they finished locking up, he realised he needed to take a piss. So, rather than open the place back up, he let loose on the rear brick wall of the building in the alley.

A few days later, one of the local TV stations was doing a report on urban decay in the downtown core. And who was the poster child of this special? My friend, somehow caught on tape pissing against the wall. Ironically, it wasn't even downtown.
(, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 4:22, Reply)
Aston Villa V Middlesbrough
200-2001 season, Villa Park, me in the away end the little corner area, nice view etc. Anyway just after the 2nd half kicks of Ugo scores nice header in the back of the net!!!
He runs up the touchline with his hand to his ear shutting up the Villa fans whove boo'd him relentlessly for the 1st half. Magical moments.
Anyway the best part (for me) comes when we get back home, watching Match of the day that night, Seeing the goal from a different angle i notice something familiar in the background. Fuck me its my trainer!!!!
And that is the closest ive ever been to being on telly, bored my mates shitless with that tale of fame.
(, Thu 18 Jun 2009, 2:13, Reply)
solstice
It was summer solstice 1987 (hooray a summer splstice story too!) and I had gone up to Ilkley Moor to watch the sun rise with some mates. I was wearing a nice dress with a big straw hat. I was really pissed off when some media types came along with cameras and big furry mikes...making loads of noise and totally spoiling the atmosphere. My rage started to well up...the sun was just about to peep over the horizon... I marched towards them, shouting and swearing and telling them to piss off back to their studio. Then I turned my back on them and walked away into the sunrise, muttering under my breath "stupid bloody bastards.... etc".

Later that day on the local news... I see a clip of a woman walking away from the camera wearing dress and straw hat...It was that last news item... and now for some fluffy news..."revellers celebrated the solstice on Ilkely Moor..." It all looked so tranquille and sweet.

This is when I found out that the media is ALL TOTAL lies.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 23:25, 1 reply)
car booty
the low rent daytime tv filler - i once had the honour of vending my junk on a pitch next door to the 'contestants' on the show. that muttony looking blonde witch with the high pitched fake middle class accent has a face like someone smeared cack under her nose when not on camera.

i did a brief talking head for them, that has been used in at least 5 different shows about various things i was selling - for some reason they focused on a knackered cricket bat.

as we left the boot sale, we screwed up their filming when my missus inadvertantly lent on the horn, which was nice.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 23:18, Reply)
I've had a couple of forays into TV and Radio
I featured in one of the quizzes that Chris Tarrant used to do on Capital. I was absolutely petrified for some reason, and as a result, I didn't do very well.

I've also appeared on 1 vs 100, when I got down to the final 5 but I was caught out by a bastard of a question.

At the audition, in an attempt to make myself stand out from the crowd so that I had a better chance of getting onto the show, I sang "I don't like Mondays" in a room full of people in front of a camera because I told one of the interviewers that I'm a good singer.

Incidentally, Dermot O'Leary is a very nice chap.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 22:48, Reply)
Not exactly on TV
But my lame-o contribution is a water safety video presented by two hand puppets.. my dad worked for Welsh Water at the time and got me and my sister parts as the "kids" doing wrong i.e. the puppets would burble some crap about it being dangerous to play by a reservoir and then there's be some footage of kids playing by a reservoir..(me and my sister and two other kids) and so on.

I was about 10 at the time and there was a showing in my school.. also there was a "première".. I use this term loosely because generally such ritzy affairs don't take place in the Bridgend Travel Lodge with a few bowls of crisps and some lukewarm egg and cress sandwiches...

I'm sure there's still a copy of the offending article somewhere (probably at hand for my mother to play at my wedding..)
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 21:33, Reply)
A bit late but I thought I'd slip it in anyway.
Many many years ago my dad's family lived two doors up from one Mr J Savile, a popular radio DJ, who was soon to branch out into presenting a show called 'Top Of The Pops'.

Now, my Aunty May couldn't stand this cocksure, cigar-smoking, blinged-up advocate of tracksuits, mainly down to a few parking disputes but also because of a 'well known rumour' from his club days (and hers; she was a nightclub singer).

So, when the local news did a bit on Jimmy's life (the way all news teams go overboard when someone from the region either does something really good or really bad), they filmed the street he (still) lived on.

And thus, my Aunty May (only a slight woman, like Karen Carpenter), was clearly visible on the 6.30 local news mouthing the words 'fucking paedofile' from her front room window, right at the camera.

I like to think the producer thought he was a right cunt as well and left it in.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 20:42, 4 replies)
Glastonbury
It's OK, I'm not a week late to the festival QOTW.

Michael Eavis, the landowner and organiser of the Glastonbury Festival (known to us yokel types as the Pilton Pop Festival) was quite a common sight on the streets of our village. As he was frequently standing for local councils, parliament or other politicky stuff that I was too young to understand he'd often wander around canvassing and generally being a Somerset big shot. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't stalking him or anything, but as a kid you are somewhat dimly aware of the local personalities and he was definitely one of them.

One summer when I can't have been more than 10 or so I remember seeing him in town being filmed by local TV. I was with my mum and we were approaching down the hill behind the camera so we weren't in shot. I was quite excited because not much gets the TV cameras out in the Westcountry. Just as I was about to run past him to claim my 5 seconds of fame, my mum started giggling and grabbed my shoulder. Pointing at Eavis, she whispered in my ear that the bearded man's flies were undone! This is comedy gold to a ten year old, and I wanted more than anything else to run up and mock him, probably by asking him if he had a license to fly that low.

Mum wouldn't let me interrupt the interview though. All I remember is whining at her, "Mum, why can't I go an' tell Eavis 'e's on show?"

Edit: with apologies to Sloppy Giuseppe.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 17:01, 7 replies)
BIRD WATCHING
I spent one summer holiday from school masturbating furiously over the supine, bronzed figure of the PE teacher who lived next door as she sunbathed in her garden wearing a couple of postage stamp sized bits of fabric over her nipples and a set of bikini bottoms you could floss your teeth with. I’d be up in my bedroom, peeking out a slit in the shut blinds, nearly fainting from the effort of pulling one off seven or eight times in one session. (The woman next door was beautiful, I mean really beautiful. She could’ve been one of Face’s squeezes on the A-Team, that’s how fucking hot she was).

My best mates Terry and Greg wanted in on the action. (Not that they wanted to wank me off, no, but they desperately wanted to see this nubile young woman doing her yoga, meditation and fuck knows what else, wearing little more than a cheeky smile). Terry and Greg popped round one time and we spent an afternoon hunched round my bedroom window, shaking with excitement, watching...

...absolutely fuck all. - The next door neighbour wasn’t in that day. The three of us were sat there getting semi erect gazing out over an empty lawn (nice lawn, don’t get me wrong – but not a sexy lawn). So Terry hit upon a plan. His old man had one of these new fangled video camcorder things...

An hour or so later it was set up on a tripod in my bedroom. All I had to do was press this little red button and the hot lady next door would be captured on video for us all to view and review at our leisure; it was a bit like setting up a trap to capture a fleeting glimpse of bigfoot, only this girl didn’t have big feet and all over body hair. Terry and Greg fucked off and left me to it. I went and had my tea. Watched Thundercats. Drank some Vimto. Then I slinked back upstairs to my room.

She was OUT!!! And she was wearing almost FUCK ALL!!!

I raced over to the video camera, pissed about with the red RECORD button and jabbed the fucker into action... Then I sat back and enjoyed the show as my next door neighbour applied suntan lotion to her lovely long legs and flat stomach. After an hour or so, I phoned Greg and told him I was coming round to his with the tape. I quickly rewound it and nearly fell off my BMX on the way over, I was that fucking excited. When I got to Greg’s, Terry was there too. And Terry’s older brother and one of his mates (apparently this mate had once fucked a real live dog), had tagged along for a bit of PE teacher hot sunbathing sex (well, no sex actually) action.

We sat on Greg’s sofa. A bottle of Pepsi. Some chipsticks. Lovely. Greg fiddled with the VCR and pressed PLAY, and the tape started.

And we sat back.

And an image flashed up on screen. And we watched...

... for about a minute.

“AWWWWWWWWW, FUCK’S SAKE, SPANKY!!!” said Terry’s brother.

At the shouting Greg’s mum burst into the living room (she usually kept out of his way when he had guests round, but she couldn’t abide swearing under her roof), and she froze when she saw the image on screen. She froze like a fucking horrified statue.

Greg shot out his seat and attempted to switch the tape off, spilling Pepsi and chipsticks all over his mum’s new white rug. Then the screen went gray. But the damage had been done. The image had been burned into everyone’s retinas. It seems that in my eagerness to press the RECORD button I’d somehow knocked the tripod, so the camera was no longer pointing into next door’s garden. Instead the camera had autofocused on a part of my bedroom near the window. The place where, after pressing RECORD, I’d stood, pulled down my kegs in one quick motion and angrily cranked one off (with accompanying growling and whimpering noises), as I gazed wantonly at the lovely lady next door applying her Ambre Solaire.

(My mum asked me later that year why Greg’s parents hadn’t sent them a Christmas card like they usually did. I lied and said Greg’s parents had become athiests)...
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 15:33, 6 replies)
Robot Wars
I've been on Dutch TV twice - I built a crap robot.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 15:32, Reply)
I can no longer travel internationally...
...not without considerable difficulty, anyway.

It would seem that I am the namesake of quite a powerful figure in the financial world who caused a bit of an economic furore in 2000, and because our names are so closely matched, I set off all sorts of bells and alarms when I try to travel through customs.

The story goes: around about the time of the Camp David Summit (the negotiations between Bill Clinton, Israeli president Ehud Barak and Palestinian Chairman Yasser Arafat), a plan was drawn up between several powerful magnates and financiers to destabilise the economy of the Middle East by completely ceasing all trading with Israel's main economic centre - nothing would be bought or sold through their stock exchange system.

This would result in massive shifts in the global stock market ultimately leading to their own personal gain. It was a totally illegal, not to mention immoral, conspiracy.

The plot was discovered before they went through with it, and all involved went into hiding, hence me having problems travelling internationally now when my name comes up on security checks.

I haven't been on a single trip in the last ten years where I haven't been 'taken aside', roughed up a bit, and been made to prove that I wasn't involved in a Tel Aviv-shun program.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 14:49, 6 replies)
On the telly
I was once on The Wide Awake Club, if anyone is old enough to remember that.

We were wearing Elizabethan cossies and playing early music on hurdy-gurdies and crumhorns and such.

At the end of the show we all went outside onto the canal path and were pelted with snowballs by a bunch of kids.

That was nothing compared to having to deal with a hyper Michaela Strachan at 4 am!
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 14:44, 3 replies)
Good Times...
Short and sweet...

My girlfriend at the time ended up being on C4's "Brat Camp." I ended up in episodes 1, 5 and 6, and what a fun 6 months that was.

For the record, C4 are twunts. Burn them all, and all their reality TV nonsense.

For another story, my mate once got his cock out behind Clarkson on Top Gear. Probably more amusing than my own story.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 14:42, 1 reply)
Me and my double
TV? I was in two movies, The Neverending Story and D.A.R.R.Y.L. Or at least, that was what everyone told me, everywhere I went.

Apparently, I'm a teacher of photography now, but nobody tells me that.

I have been accosted by two camera crews. Once when I had almost made it out of a concert hall after seeing Nigel Kennedy play. After I mumbled some rubbish with a blinding light in my face, the guy with the microphone said through gritted teeth 'Thanks'. Also by some kids from community television. Again, blinding light, silly question, at which point it was so silly I walked away, laughing. They were so disappointed and the guy with the microphone said, 'Really?', as if I had turned him down for dinner.

Oh well, at least it prepared me for when I'm famous.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 13:05, Reply)
Me on the telly.
I’ve been on the telly playing guitar.
They showed me at various gigs throughout the world as I toured.

I play a wide selection of music (always with my Les Paul) and despite the varying audience sizes, I’d usually get an encore – which gave me more air time.

The pay was variable depending on how the gig went, but fortunately I got myself sponsored quite early on and the magazine coverage helped a lot too.



At the end of the tour, I had a play-off with Slash and beat him.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 11:17, 3 replies)
Maybe in the future
Someone was filming on London Bridge this morning so look out for me in the "crowd shots" on the news this evening.

I'm the one in the dark suit, white shirt and blue tie. You can't miss me - I'm carrying a briefcase.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 9:52, Reply)
I was on a TV show called 'the village'
which was based around some shitty little community village. I had a mohawk at this time and played in a brass band who had been paid to play for the little villages Rose Queen parade.

In the video there was a few shots of me, and then DISGUSTED VILLAGERS BEING DISGUSTED BY MY HAIR.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 9:43, Reply)
North West Wales tonight...
...filmed a piece at my old house about missold PPI (payment protection insurance) Aside from the fact I was chuffed I'd managed to con almost 2k out of my scummy bank, they'd cut all the interview and I ended up sounding like a 'tard. I was gutted my hideous pink sofa, and dvd collection were in the background.

To top it all off the fuckers trod oil into my beige carpet.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 7:38, 1 reply)
=)
Denzel Washington is a right prick.The then Mrs. Billy-Bob Thorton was delightful. Most of the others were pricks. Unless they were small fish and then they were nice 'till they thought they were big fish. I quit acting because i hate actors ( thespians are a different sort >< )

*edit* but thespians are still mad
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 6:26, Reply)
I was on Nickelodeon back in the day
I won some board games. I dropped a melon. Happy times.

Sorry about the length COCKSNOT COCKSNOT ALERT ALERT THERE'S COCKSNOT EVERYWHERE RUN FOR YOUR LIVES IT'S A FLOOD OF COCKSNOT AND NOBODY IS GOING TO ESCAPE. You cannot resist firepower of this magnitude.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 4:17, Reply)
I'm a mad scientist...
...and this one time, while working on my miniaturisation ray-gun in my living room, I walked in front of it to inspect the bit at the end where the rays all shoot out and stuff, when my cat stepped on the button that makes it go 'WhooooosssshhhhhhBzzzzzzBANG!' Suddenly I was shrunk down to the size of an Action Man figurine.

As I was checking to see that my genitals were still in place and that they hadn't been replaced with some prude-friendly asexual plastic mound, my cat noticed me and sprang to the attack. I pulled my hand from my pants and began to run, dodging his swiping claws just inches from my inch-long face.

I wasn't going to be able to get away while down on the floor; the thick shag-pile carpet I recently had laid hindered my escape. It was like trying to bolt through bracken or gallop through gorse. I knew I had to gain altitude. I grabbed the cable hanging down from the reading lamp and pulled myself up it. I leapt on to the arm of a chair and then scrambled up the back. Kitty was too quick though and met me at the top in seconds. I sprinted along the back of the chair, jumped and then somersaulted onto the mantelpiece, Parkour-stylee.

Puss kept up the pursuit and in the flick of a tail was up there with me. I dodged the framed picture of me with Andi Peters and Ed The Duck (unsigned), then weaved behind my Istead Rise U-11 football team trophy (everyone in the team got one for participating - we never won games or owt.) I was almost the same size as it!

Reaching the end of the mantelpiece there was nowhere else for me to run. Below me lay certain death - landing on a pile of sun-faded copies of Radio Times would have shattered my tiny bones.

Then I saw it; my one chance of escape. I looked behind me. My once affectionate feline companion, now turned single-minded killer, was closing in slowly, doing that crouching shoulder number you see lionesses do in the African savannah when hunting. I turned and looked at my last hope of surviving. Beyond it lay an open window through which I could escape.

I closed my eyes.

I took a deep breath.

I gritted my teeth.

I leapt...

...and...





...that's how I ended up on the telly.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 3:54, 2 replies)
never any major roles
However a younger (and much, much, thinner - albeit with an infinitely more twatlike haircut) tjn made it into the background of a feature on 'The Word' once - I wont say any more, but I was easily visible in the crowd scenes. ahem.

The same summer, I also interrupted filming of the seminal and much loved tv soap 'Albion Market' - they were using the bar of the restaurant I was working in at the time as an outside location. I turned up one morning (hungover as usual from working the night before) to open up, to find the door locked and the blinds down.
So I did what anyone would have done - hammered on the door and bellowed to 'let me the f*** in'. I then heard a voice from inside say 'bugger off - we're busy.'

you what??? I've got work to do, you pillock. cue more hammering on my part, till the door was opened a crack and I'm greeted by the sight of several cameramen, lighting techs, and a rather irate OB director. I've always wondered if and when that would ever surface on 'Alright on the night'...

I'm also in Lush's video for the track 'Superblast' that they recorded at Manchester Poly in 1991 - ace band, and an ace gig.

I also ended up on the coverage for the indoor showjumping trials at Sheffield Arena a few years ago - a company I was working for at the time were providing security for the event, and I could be clearly seen watching the backstage entrance behind the local tv reporter.

so if everyone gets fifteen minutes as mr. warhol suggested, I've had at least thirty seconds or so up to now.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 3:12, 2 replies)
Me, Phil, Fern and a bunch of underpants
Twas last year and it was a rather mundane day for me at work and i got a phone call from who I thought was a customer as he was asking me various questions about underwear. Not unusual in it's self as I own a company selling mens underwear. anyway after about 15 mins he asked if I'd go on TV to talk about mens underwear after a certain newscaster and university challenge host made some choice comments M&S underwear.
So as i'd pretty much guessed that this would be my only chance at 15 mins of fame I agreed.
Being located in the darkest depths of Shropshire (shrewsbury to be exact) it meant getting home, packed and ready and on a train to London in about 1hr.
So check into the hotel nervous as fuck about the coming day not knowing what they were going to as me.
Anyway long story short got to see how the show was put together, had first slot on the show and made a dick of myself to fern by saying to her after my slot "my wife says hello" which in my mind made perfect sense as my wife had interviewed her several years ago but then in hindsight me expecting to know who the hell my wife was, was a bit daft.
Anyway my TV appearance is now immortalised online below
What To Look For When Buying Mens Underwear -
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 1:19, 2 replies)
Bizarre....
...to watch yourself twice a week on BBC2 for weeks and weeks as part of a 'reality' TV programme. It never did seem like reality at the time and looking back on the footage its as though it was a different world. I expected the ritual humiliation, the ridiculous tasks, the tiredness so that you can't think straight, the separation from the family and friends and that the whole TV world will have an opinion of you having never ever met you and discussed you on on the internet and the press.

But nothing prepared me for just how short Raymond Blanc is.
(, Wed 17 Jun 2009, 0:26, 2 replies)
3 Colours Red...
...I can briefly be seen in the music video for 3 Colours Red's "This is my time," as a member of the crowd. I'm wearing a "Moonspell" shirt. Had to get up at half-past bastard for the Leeds - London coach and we didn't finish filming until nearly 22:00. Loooong day. The studio reimbursed our Tube tickets and gave us a lift to Bromley-by-bow at the end off the shoot though, which was nice.
(, Tue 16 Jun 2009, 22:51, Reply)
I hate my eighteen year old self.
I was on Blockbusters and managed to make an utter dick of myself. Firstly I actually said 'I really need a P please Bob'. Then I answered 'which 'D' followed the yellow brick road?' with 'Doris' - my Gran's name (although she was dead chuffed she got a namecheck) Somehow I managed to win a goldrun and the prize was a weekend in a canoe in Shrewsbury, the highlight of which was being bitten on the ear by a swan whose nest i'd disturbed by being generally crap at canoeing (served me right really). The weirdest thing about the whole experience was being summoned to the Headmaster's office about a month later to be told the school had received a very sexually explicit letter from a viewer addressed to me. Who in God's name writes pervy letters to Blockbusters contestants? And why did they tell me about it? I've not been able to handjive since.
First post. Sorry if it's poo.
(, Tue 16 Jun 2009, 22:41, 4 replies)
I arrived home utterly exhausted ...
It was about 8 o’clock on a Monday morning and I had just got off the London to Glasgow sleeper train, which wouldn’t have tired me out so much had I actually used my bunk and not spent the whole journey in the bar talking. My bag thumped down on the bed, bounced off it and tumbled to the floor, spilling bits of leather, metal axes and resin cast weapons on the floor. I swore as I noticed a little bit of decoration fall off my disruptor pistol and roll away, but the thought of bending down for it was too much. I let it stay where it had landed and climbed on top of my quilt with the idea of lying down watching some early morning TV for 10 or 15 minutes to relax and get up to speed with the rest of the world. I clicked on the telly, put my head down, and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

I awoke about 3.30 in the afternoon, in a fairly befuddled state, and slowly sat upright. I opened my eyes, and found myself staring … at myself. I blinked. The mirror never used to be here. I blinked again. I was silent and yet my reflection was saying something. I closed my eyes and rubbed them. My reflection wasn’t even wearing the same clothes as me. My reflection was wearing a substantial amount of latex on his head. I touched my forehead, it was smooth, it was skin, and it was mine. I made a moaning noise. I thought I was still dreaming. I couldn’t deal with this. I had words under my head, the mirror never usually gave me a caption. What was happening? I blinked and took a deep breath. It was dawning on me. Slowly. I was on the TV. No matter how hard you prepare, nothing in my life will ever prepare you for waking up to find yourself face to face with yourself on BBC’s Newsround dressed as a Klingon.
(, Tue 16 Jun 2009, 22:31, Reply)

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