Hmm
Snapping my banjo string?

Anyone? Work with me here guys!
(The_Reaper, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:31, 7 replies)

Wood or wire?
Calling these phobias is like saying you've got 'flu when you've got a cold, but I really don't want to google any links for this post.

The Moomins freak me right out - only the original stop-motion ones mind, creepy fucking program that was.

Those anatomical mannekin things with the removable organs and muscle layers and stuff, plain wrong, if I never see that advert with a talking one again it'll be too soon.

Those are understandable enough I suppose, but the weirdest one is coat hangers - I'm not scared of them, they just really annoy me.
(Udidin is chuffed to have made the newsletter, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:26, 1 reply)

One-off irrational fear
When Mr Cherryblossom and I moved into our first flat, we had this lovely Ikea mirrored wardrobe opposite our bed. It was very wide and very large.


For no real reason I began to fear it falling on me (it wouldn't have, it was sturdy and it was not overfilled with clothes or other crap). The thought of Mr Cherryblossom coming home and finding me under the wardrobe was scary though.

I'm also quite afraid of my bladder exploding if I need the loo and can't go for a good while.... I hope this cannot actually happen.

Where do irrational fears come from?!
(YayLady is cold, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:24, 4 replies)

More from Ghana.
I just remembered something else that happened in Ghana.

This large house, and pretty much all of Ghana was crawling with little lizards. I didn't mind them, but they are considered a pest by the locals.

One morning while buck naked walking from the shower I walked through a door and slammed it inadvertantly after me. Something flashed past my eye and I screamed as I thought something was about to go in my mouth. I looked down to see a small green thing that looked like no animal I had ever seen wriggling madly at my feet.

What it turned out to be was the tail of one of these lizards, cut from its owner by me slamming the door. Fucking gross. It carried on wriggling like a possesed disgusting alien for five minutes!.

The thing that made me nearly puke though was the thought of it going in to my hair and wriggling around and me not being able to get it out. I'm nearly puking now, a year later.
(drshipman iz in yr shower killing yr nan, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:21, Reply)

I have a phobia
That people wont click "I Like This"
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:18, 1 reply)

Not me but a mate of mine
Shop dummies, y'know mannequins. The things you see in the windows of any department store.

He can't stand 'em. Prehaps it was too much Dr Who as a kid

Length?

About 20 yards so far and getting further away all the time
(Sir Tainley Barking Ezekiel 23:20, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:10, 1 reply)

flappy oversized insects in my mouth
The idea of small birds/big insects in my mouth and eyes is my phobia.


I went to Ghana last year for 8 months with my wife. Beautiful place with lovely friendly people, but some REALLY fucking huge insects.

We were given a house by the local health authority (wife is a doctor) which was huge. Ghana being in Africa meant that it was hotter than satans cock, and when we were in the doors needed to be open for a draught.

Well one day I was locking up for the night when I noticed this enourmous dragonfly thing just sitting there looking fucking evil and all flappy. It was about 8 inches long with huge horrible wings and I emitted a squeel like a five year old when I saw it.

I was charged with catching the thing and it took about an hour with it flying at my face every time I went for it with a massive saucpan., and me feeling sick to my stomach with the worry it was going to go iside my mouth.
(drshipman iz in yr shower killing yr nan, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:05, Reply)

Biting a brick.
I can stomach a lot of things.
Today I gave blood for the first time.
But the idea of putting my teeth near something as solid and gritty as a brick...

No thank-you. Not on your nelly.
(itisi shhh, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:02, 2 replies)

bipedal animals
I've had a few recurring nightmares where the last 'scene' in the dream is a silent moment with a chimpanzee standing on his back legs, then looking at me and screaming with a loud human scream.

Fucking terrifying!
( moohalaa, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 22:01, 2 replies)

Not me but my neighbour's daughter...
... is terrified of E32 7-series BMWs.

No, really. Not just BMWs, *that specific model*. Not even other versions of the 7-series, just that one.

Unfortunately one of my mates has a gold 7-series E32. Guess what specific model and colour the neighbour's kid is most frightened of? Bingo.

Apparently there was a car like it in a horror movie, or something. We can't work out which movie it was though. Closest we've come up with is an episode of CSI.
(gordonjcp, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:59, Reply)

moths.
oh jeebers, they're unnatural. they don't have mouths, you know. i dread summer, when they start flying in through my open windows and crashing idiotically around the lights. and when you smack them they crumble into dust like grim little vampires.

i watch them monging about mindlessly with equal feelings of loathing and terror and have purchased a handheld vacuum cleaner specifically for the task of hoovering the little freaks up.

oh, and one once landed on my bell-end when i was enjoying a hand-shandy. oh lord.
( urbane legend i have known the inexorable sadness of pencils, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:58, 4 replies)

Tin Foil
I cant stand chewing on tin foil, especially when your not expecting it, usually hidden underneath the food your trying to eat.

If it happens i just have to spit everything out and find the small piece of foil!
(Masterb3ta, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:56, 1 reply)

I should never have mentioned the hated fear of being alone.
In all my posts on this thread, for Mr Maladicta, read ex-Mr Maladicta. It was amicable to the point that we're better off as friends, but bear with me :( phobias, people, they come true sometimes.

*wanders off listening to I Will Survive*
( Maladicta, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:55, 6 replies)

urrrgh - spyders
hate most alpha romeos to be honest
( Signify, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:54, Reply)

I've got the usual fear of heights.
But I think it may extend to ceilings.

The Alexandra Theatre terrifies me. Each time I go there, I spend about 15 minutes crying before I can go to my seat. Very slowly. I'm fine after a while.

For some reason it's only this theatre. I've been to the Symphony Hall and I'm mildly unnerved, but otherwise fine. It's quite nice there actually.

And the Papal Palace in Avignon has a room that just gives me the fear. It makes me nervous to be in this big room they have. Actually, from googling that picture I am now feeling the fear. It's really unnerving.

It's just a big fucking empty room! I've no idea why it's so scary.

Edit: and inspired by the picture below me, I used to be scared by this witch in a video my bro and I used to watch, it was all about having to collect nursery rhymes to save wherever they were. The evil witch always came on as just a cackling face in the corner, but she scared me =(
( Rev. Cleo still alive, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:49, Reply)

Old 8-bit computer game
Does anyone else remember having the bejezus scared out of them by this?


( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:40, 1 reply)

Banned from the Dracula experince in Whitby
well,

I had just brought myself a shiny new car. I say new it was the first and only car I have ever had that was under ten years old. And as it would be another four months before I would find out that the cooling system was about 98% radweld, I was feeling pretty chuffed.

I called my mates up and suggested we arise at the crack of noon to take a road trip up the coast to Whitby. we arrived just as everything was winding down. After wondering around for a bit and getting some chips and looking at the goths we decided to go to the Dracula experince as it was about £2 each, and it was closing in about 5 mins.

I reckon we paid about 1.50 too much. its basically a dark room where you walk about waxwork scenes from the book accompanied by bbc sound effects. Anyway being three twenty something lads we behaved like six year olds, jumping out and grabbing each other shouting "BOO". It was all fun and games until we got to the end.

As we reached the end a real member of the undead burst from a side room and tried to suck our blood. My friends cowered behind me as in a flash I unsheathed my trusty broadsword and smote the minion of satan.


Hang on. That dosent sound right.

Lets back that up a bit and reassess the situation. Thats not a servant of the unholy one, Its a teenage lad in a bad halloween costume trying to get us to hurry up and leave so he can go home. Oh dear I seem to have twatted him in the face with the rolled up big issue I was carrying under my arm.

We ran out the beckoning exit, and all the way to the car. I now have a phobia about returning to Whitby in case he recognizes me.

length? about A4 size. If it had the girth of a sunday paper I might just of got a assault conviction.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:30, Reply)

Also, needles
I have a massive fear of needles that has become worse over time. The true extent of this fear showed itself last summer.

My girlfriend and I were helping her Dad remove a window from their shed. She and I were inside, he was outside, and a bit of pulling and pushing made the whole thing smash. Alyson, my girlfriend, was wearing sandals and had a huge shard make a four-inch cut along the her foot. There was lots of blood.

Her Mum drove the two of us to the hospital, with Alyson sitting in the front elevating the foot and holding two flaps of skin together so blood didn't go everywhere. We got to triage, waited for half an hour, and saw a very nice female doctor.

I stood holding Alyson's hand as she lay in the hospital bed. We were told that she would need stitches and that first she would be given a pain-killing injection in the wound.

I turned around while the needle went in. I didn't see the needle at all. I tried not to picture the syringe, but I thought about it for a second, while my girlfriend squoze my hand and winced.

I woke up several seconds later on the cold tiled floor of the hospital room. Three women were standing over me, looking amused. I heard my girlfriend say "Is he okay?"

I was told not to get up as I'd just fainted, and I could hear the doctor and my missus were having a good laugh at my expense. When I felt a little better an old nurse walked me to a spare bed where I was given some orange juice and told to rest. My girlfriend, having just finished having seven stitches put in her foot came over and told me that she was ready to go whenever I was ready, but that I shouldn't strain myself.

This was last summer. I'm 28.
(Fuiru Sting, where is thy death?, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:25, 2 replies)

Scratch Scratch
I know it sounds strange but I have a fear of people reading this post.

Not frightened of people reading this and taking the piss as its not a psychosomatic thing (I dont think it is anyway). All I know is that its so bad that I actually come out in a rash when someone reads it.

I guess its all down to the psychic abilities I got from.....hang on....(scratch scratch).....Shite its happening again....(Scratch, scratch)....dammit, you're READING THIS AREN'T YOU...I'd better go get the cream out.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:21, 1 reply)

a phobia that starts with spiders and ends with stars
My mum used to run an intensive care unit and one of her colleagues had an intense and irrational spider fear. A child's drawing of a spider would send her mental, itsy and bitsy would send her mental. Full thrashing uncontrolled mental. A little bit of a loose canon to have in a critical care situation.

They would share a car to work sometimes with fun and games like her trying to climb out of the passenger seat and over my mum while she drove, at speed, to escape a spiders web on the wing mirror.

Anyway, she had once seen a spider, or something spider like, on the path to her front door. So irrationally had taken the decision to avoid the path in future by routinely climbing through the hedge and using her neighbour's path. Thats the irrational half of 'intense and irrational'.

One morning she does just that, through the hedge, down the path, over the road..... but as she's crossing the road glimpses a little passenger on her skirt that she picked up in the hedge. She stops in traffic and begins to scream and scream and scream.

Nearby some guys are fixing the road when they hear and see the spectacle. Not knowing what could have happened, concerned, one guy approaches and tries to help, asking whats wrong, are you alright - no response other than blind, rooted-to-the-spot panic and screams - scanning the surroundings - has she been attacked? are you hurt?- she's beyond reason and continues to scream, unresponsive to any help, defense or support he can offer. He's ready and willing to rescue her, but from what? At a loss for anything else to do to help he grabs her shoulders and tries to shake her out of it.



Its at this point that her husband, hearing the screams, comes to investigate and the first thing he sees is some burley bloke shaking his screaming, petrified wife.


The next thing the kind, helpful, burley bloke sees is stars
(lankygingerfool, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:18, Reply)

The spiders' point of view.
Many of you have posted about phobia of spiders. While I'm as arachnophobic as the rest of you, I thought I'd post what spiders would fear if their perception were as good as humans'.

There's this wasp called Hymenoepimecis argyraphaga which lays it's eggs on a spider. The wasp-larvae hatch and start modifying the spider brain in such a way that it begins to build a type of web that looks absolutely nothing like it's normal web. This particular web is designed specially for the purposes of incubating the wasp larvae. Once the 'web' is finished, the larva devours the host spider.

Below is the normal web and the special web



Now, imagine if you're a spider happily and octopedally walking on your merry way and then all of a sudden you see this unholy apparation



, I bet it would scare the crap out of you.

See http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/841401.stm for more details.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:15, 4 replies)

Peacocks
I suppose it counts as a phobia... I'm terrified of the buggers. Just look at them, look into their beady little eyes and you'll see pure concentrated evil. I think it's their tails that do it most. The sound they make is pretty terrifying too, it's like some sort of battle cry.

Actually, most birds are a bit iffy....
(5347, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:11, Reply)

I'm scared of dyslexia.
It stems from the time that I was a teenage Communist, and tried to impress a girl by loudly insisting that power grows from the barrel of a gnu.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:09, 1 reply)

Err
Odd one, I think. Sleeping bags. Yes, sleeping bags. I don't use them, but I am afraid to suffocate in one. And it doesn't even have to be zipped up, I'm still scared. I won't even sit on one.
( Killerkitti Like my coffee black, just like my metal, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 21:07, Reply)

The only thing I'm really afraid of
is dying. Growing old and dying. I want to see the future. I want to see what happens to the world, I want to see what advances humans make. And, what makes this worse than other fears, is that I can't escape it. Imagine being afraid of spiders, and knowing you're going to get covered in them. You can't get away from it. It haunts you day and night. I don't want to fucking die. EVER.
(Ethong is enjoying Cardiff. Especially Bogiez., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 20:59, Reply)

Spiders are probably a common one...
I'm 33, 6 foot tall and am the wrong side of 110 kilos. And the eight-legged beasties scare the bejesus out of me.

Living in an old house, I've had to learn to cope. Breathing exercises to quell the initial adrenaline rush when you see them... I can now actually be in the room with a wolf spider or a daddy-long-legs on the wall or ceiling, and can just... avoid it.

If disposal is necessary (the majority of the time), then a wet flannel is the way forward. Approach the spider slowly, making sure that the folded flannel covers the fingers, and the palm is flat. Take specific control of your elbow and wrist. They *will* do your bidding. More breathing, keep breathing. Build yourself up. 'you can do this, you can do this, you can do this...'

A firm count to three. One... Two... thr[Arm extended, palm flat, spider centred on flannel.] QUICKLY scrunch flannel between fingers, maintaining pressure on wall/windows/significant other and RUN to the bathroom for hurling of flannel into the bath/shower.

Flannel can then be dealt with at a distance with a broom-handle, and the remains rinsed down the plughole with a shower head.

I saw an american phobia program with a guy looking to get over his fear of spiders, and (after initial encounters with spiders in tanks) was put in a room with a tarantula. He had a big bit of card that he could shoo it away with, or use as a wall. The special bit was that he was also barefoot, and the floor was astroturfed. Oddly, I can see how it worked, and after watching him go from a nearly gibbering heap to being able to stand sans cardboard about a metre away from the thing... I could get a little further in controlling my own fear.

I don't need to be able to pick them up... Just... not be bothered. Has anyone on here had hypnosis for arachnophobia? Seriously, if I could be in the same room as a spider and... just not care, my life would be so much easier.
( moogthedog, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 20:57, 2 replies)

Sitting on (public) toilet seats
is an absolute no-no in my world.

I have a complete horror of what nasties might be lurking on that well-used ring of plastic. Trained from a very early age by dear old mum not to sit down, I have, like many others, perfected "The Hover".

No way is my delicate little bum making contact where others have gone before.

I have, of course, trained my own daughters similarly (except when they were tiny, and I used to carry Flash wipes) and doubt I could ever make myself actually sit down.

It does take a certain skill, does it not? Especially when travelling. My best "Hover"? In an overnight coach to London, hammering down the M6 at stupid o'clock in the morning, bus bouncing all over the place. I never made contact once (and I was gagging at the smell the whole time). Why do bus toilets smell so bad?
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 20:56, 8 replies)

cock pocket
Every so often I'll have a dream that shakes me up and makes me feel slightly off-kilter for a day or two.

One of these dreams is a recurring one where I have giant thumbs. Nothing else happens in the dream. I just have giant thumbs and go about my business.

The next day, awake and with the mind wobble of the giant thumb experience, I always find myself constantly rotating them and doing things I wouldn't normally do with my thumbs but they're quite apt at doing all the same, such as flicking the electric kettle switch, using it to do the del in ctrl+alt+del instead of my right hand forefinger. I just need to reassure myself that they aren't massive you see.

But my rather tenuous post to the phobia qotw isn't about giant thumbs. No, it isn't a phobia but it was fucking realistic and scared the life and all the shit out of me.

The other night I found myself in the US / Vietnam war. I believe that I was fairly new to the platoon and therefore a bit shit in a combat situation, but hey, all was good. My platoon was just snaking along some dense jungle terrain with only the odd annoying mosquito for company. 'This will be ok' was the general feeling of the dream.

As dreams are wont to do the next thing I was on my own and all hell was breaking loose. Screams broke through the foliage as my comrades were slaugheterd, cut down, had their throats slit and were dragged off into the distance.

I'm not ashamed to say, given the horror of the situation and evidence that the odds were defo stacked against a successful one man stand, I hid and put some mud on my face, like a poor mans rambo in rambo: first blood part 2.

Curling into a ball, I slept until they went away. Well, half slept - I do snore after all.

Night came and passed so figuring it safe to find my way back to camp, keeping low I began to creep, keeping adjacent to the trail, deep in the foliage. Making about 20 meters in what seemed like an hour progress was slow and I had to keep constant watch for shadows, movement, footprints, booby traps. It was necessarilly slow.

Hang on. Something in the mud. What's this? I look closer. Is that a cock? I pick it up. It is a cock. I drop it.

I continue my slothlike progress. A few metres
more I see something else. It's another cock.

What's with all of these cocks thought I? Scoping the area I find more. About a dozen cocks of varies size, race, and shape. Quite cleany severed off I must say.

Then it hits me. They're cutting off my platoon's cocks to demasculate them and maybe stop them from breeding in their next incarnation.

So I then decide to do something heroic. With their bodies taken, probably never to be found, I would scour the area of the firefight collecting the cocks so I could take them home for their mothers to remember them by.

The rest of my dream is spent collecting cocks and putting them in the various expansive pockets of my fatigues. Trying to be as quiet as I can. Also, I construct a system of marking the territory so I don't go over old ground.

THinking it was pretty much job done I give the area one final onceover.

AAGGH! Hands around my neck. Excitable chatter. Now they have their arm wrapped around tight and strangling me. More voices, now closer. Someone kicks my legs from underneath me and the stranglehold gets tenser. I feel myself being dragged backwards and my fatigues are ripped from me. I scream like a big girly flanders.

I wake up.

THank fuck for that. It gave me the wobble though. I shower, dress and drive to work. All the time mulling over what the fuck that dream was about. I told my colleagues and they just laughed.

But strangest thing is that it was so realistic, the emotions, the clarity of it all that every time, for the next couple of days, that I put my hands in my pockets I expected to come out holding a severed cock or three.
(Heyzeus, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 20:56, 1 reply)

I'm developing a phobia of knives
but I'm keeping an eye on it.
After the accident I had in January (I fileted my arm instead of a fish for those of you who weren't lucky enough to see the picture), I refuse to clean my own fish.
I also find myself avoiding anything bigger than a vegetable knife to cut things with.
A friend of mine started noticing this when he handed me a butchers knife to put away and I couldn't take it off him.
Even at dinner last night, although the steak was excellent, I was worried about using the steak knife to cut my meat and did very sloooowly and carefully. Bastard friends laughed at me.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 20:53, Reply)

Didn't think I had any...Then I thought a bit harder and uncovered a veritable plethora…

(Disclaimer: I haven't tracked back to see how many of these have already been done - apologies for possible repeats)

Of course there’s the drowning / dying / heights / shot-through-the-head etc fears but I think they’re quite rational because there can be genuine potential risks. However, I also have some phobias which even by my own admission, are pretty blooming stupid:


Spiders: obvious I know, but I can actually remember not being scared of them at all as a child...until one fateful day aged about 6 when I was playing ‘war’ with some kids from my neighbourhood….

Sergeant Pooflake and Corporal Furious D had been forced to retreat to the operations bunker that was the shed at the bottom of my garden. He went in first and I followed.
As I entered the shed, he turned round and said “What’s that on your shoulder?”. I glanced down and saw a gargantuan, puts-the-aliens-from-Starship-Troopers-to-shame bastard spider gawping at me.

I froze in fear as I watched it squint it’s beady cluster of eyes, roll up its sleeves to show me it's hairy legs and tattoos before scuttling at point 5 past light speed up my neck and on to my cheek.

“Weeeeeyooooeeeeooowwwwaaaarrgghhhhhh!” I calmly disclaimed as I sprinted out of the shed and up the garden path, ripping my clothes off like a miniture Hulk Hogan and slapping myself all over whilst struggling to not deposit half a metric ton of shit from my prolapsing bowels. Not pleasant. Scared ever since. I can summon up just about enough gumption to whack one of the fuckers with a shoe, and leave the present Mrs Pooflake to mop up the resultant sludge.

Moths: Flappy, ugly, fly-in-your-mouth little cuntstains. Well, I say little, some of the bastards that have their AGM round my lamp are like the Wandering Albatross. I hate the paradox (if that’s the right word) that they do fuck all when there’s loads of light all day, then decide to convene on my crappy little lightbulbs when it’s pitch black. No doubt someone will enlighten me (arf)– but until then I'll just continue thinking that they’re thickie fuckwarts

Woodlice: When my ‘rents first moved house they hired a manky, god awful van (A 6 ½ tonner rings a bell?) to transport everything. Seeing as my dad was as tight as a gnat’s chuff he even insisted on taking the coal shed from our old house with us (don’t ask). He piled it into the back of the van…lobbed in a shitload of other stuff then said to a 9 year old me: “There’s no room for you in the cab, you’ll have to get in the back with the stuff”. So I was plonked in the back of a van, trapped and pressed against the concrete slabs of a coal shed. There was just enough light for me to make out the hundreds of woodlice crawling all over me for the 30 minute journey. Nobody heard my screams...well at least they pretended not to...the bunch of wanky piss-slicks *shudders*

Smoking: mentioned it a few weeks ago (in the smoking QOTW – what are the odds?) so I won’t bang on about it again. In short I think it’s cack on a biscuit.

The Test Card: That girl with the clown and the blackboard…what the fuck was that all about? Used to shit me up something proper as a kid – I always had to turn away. Shiver-riffic.

The black rabbit of Inlé from ‘Watership Down’: Possibly to do with my first realisation of mortality or something. Either way, you don’t take a 5 year old to the pictures to let him watch some ghostly apparition lure happy bunnies from their loved ones with images of fields of blood. You just don’t. I had flashbacks and twisted images of that fucking rabbit floating around my bedroom for years. Every time I hear 'Bright Eyes' it sets me off.

Peas: It’s not just a simple dislike, – I actually recoil from the little bastards. It started with school dinners and being forced to eat the 'little green Bogies of Satan', but now, I can’t even bear to look at them. If I am in a restaurant I will insist on no peas, whatever the meal. You’d be surprised how many times chefs can’t be arsed, or assume I will just leave them to one side on my plate…

Oh no. Not me. No.fucking.way.

They get the bastard sent straight back with the words “I SAID NO FUCKING PEAS, SPACKBAG!” ringing in their ears. Personally, I couldn’t care less if they don’t like my attitude and spit / jizz / whatever in my meal before I get it back…as long as there’s no peas.

Of course, I love lots of food that contains peas (soups etc) – so I have to painstakingly remove every SINGLE pea before I start cooking. If I miss one in the extraction process and taste it later. I will retch – simple as that – instant Huey McPukeputty

My Nan used to have realistic-looking shrunken heads on her wall. I don't know the story behind how or why...but in the name of Bill Bailey's Bumgrapes, what the fuck?? They used to scare the bejeezus out of me.

Drinking from water fountains: - Obviously doesn't happen often anymore but at school I always had this fear that somebody would push my head when I was drinking from a water fountain and smash my teeth against the pipe. Every time I approached a water fountain I would check, slurp quickly, look around, twitch, shake, slurp quickly, look around, twitch, shake etc. Never did get my teeth smashed in, but consistently looked like a twat.

Lorks-a-lordy I am a spacktacularly fucked up individual.

However, It is quite apparent that I have no fear of arse-chewingly long posts
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 20:52, 8 replies)