Well
Your Mum.
(tfi049113 Was found alive on, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:36, 1 reply)

Sand
It upsets me so much...
I can touch it with my hands, but having it on my bare feet makes me go ice cold, then vomit.

The very worst is getting it in-between my toes... *shudder*

I don't go on holiday to beach places. When we were in Cornwall over the Summer, we had to find stone beaches to go to.

Er... And my parents were showing me pictures of a holiday to... [some hot beachy place], which was ok, until I saw the one of someone walking across the sand, leaving footprints.

I threw up at that point, shortly after running out.

And I've already said that I can't deal with vomiting.

Welcome to the wonderful world of Kaol, please stamp your tickets by the door, and keep your hands and arms inside the cart at all times.
( Cawl, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:34, 13 replies)

The House Spiders...
Spiders, or more precisely the "House Spider" (Google it for images of the beasties).

Before me and the other half got our house we used to spend a lot of nights at her parents house out in the sticks

One night while falling asleep I became aware of a scratching/rustling noise in the room, sounded quite close.

I Ignored it to start with but it soon started to get to me, so I climbed out of bed and turned the light on...

... and right on the headboard above the other halfs head was a huge house spider, must have easily had a 5" leg span, biggest spider I've seen outside of a zoo.

So I try to coax the other half out of bed without letting her know there's a bloody huge house spider just inches from her face (she's far more scared of spiders than me). At the second attempt she moves and I reach for the fly swat (live and let live I know - but there was no way I was gonna co-habit with this 8 legged monster)

Am a little bit shakey but have a swing at it anyway... and miss!!! The f*cker dashes behind the headboard.

At this stage we're debating wether to sleep elsewhere or to try moving the bed when the beast comes back out from behind the headboard, gets to the top and holds its front legs in the air just like the "boss" spider on Aracnaphobia. It was either some kind of attack pose of it was just mocking my piss poor first effort to kill it, either way in the next few moments my head clears and my hand steadies and I take another swing - this time there are no mistakes and the terror is over.

Took bloody ages to get to sleep after though, any tiny noise had my senses tingling.

Length: about 5inches
(Bad_Dogg, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:29, 2 replies)

Phobia or Pavlovian response?
A few years ago I finished with a girlfriend of 3 years. Anyone who has ever dumped someone and has an over active sense of guilt will agree with me that you feel like the worst person in the world (even if the whinging bitch had it coming).

After the deed was done, she proceeded to call my mobile a couple of times a day to cry, call me a bastard, apologise for calling me a bastard, cry again...you get the picture. This started to wear me out, so I allocated her number a personal ringtone to give me an extra few seconds to prepare for the crying/insults/guilt trip to come.

After a few months the calls tailed off as she found another man to blame all her problems in life on, but even now, if I hear the Nokia ringtone "Grand Valaise" my stomach knots and I get an overwhelming feeling of fear and guilt.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:29, Reply)

Fear of links.
Thanks to Rick Astley and the rick rolling phenominon. I now have a phobia of clicking any links. It took all my effort to click post your own story. And it will take a lot of time, mental discipline and sweating to click "post this message". If I click it I know I'm going to hear that ghastly Never gonna give you up song. ARGHHHHH!!!
Someone else click it please.. please.. please... noooooooooo!!
OK I'm going to do it now...
Damn I can't do it. Sorry.
OK for b3tan i'll be brave...
C....lick. eek!
(Miggyman, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:29, 1 reply)

Cheese and it's myriad forms
What's this I hear you cry, a half frenchman who doesn't like cheese?

Ok, maybe it was just that bloke at the front who sneezed. But it sounded like a what....

And onto the meat of the story. I can't stand cheese, I can't even bear to have cheese on the table next to me at times. If someone's been serving a cheesey based food, and uses the same utensil to serve my (thankfully normal) non-cheesey food, I'll go into conniptions.

Even going into the cheese aisle in the supermarket is troublesome, and if there's a cheesemonger (ha, a profession better named Dealer of Death) then I might as well throw in the towel.

What's worse is that in the fridge we currently have a wonderful selection of delicious cold meats. Such culinary delights as ham, salami and the like. Only problem is that they're sitting on top of the cheese box.

Which all makes it weird that I love pizza.
(chuckle_h0und You furnish the pictures, I'll furnish the war, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:28, 1 reply)

And another one...
Some people here seem to have a major spider problem. They're not my biggie (see below) but I can't claim to be exactly spider-neutral. There's a story behind this one..

Wiggly 'back in time lines'

I'm 7. It's high summer and I'm on my Auntie's farm, playing with my cousins. The sun is hot, the barn is cool. We are climbing the big stacks plastic sacks of animal feed pellet that reach nearly to the rafters. A perfect game, an idyllic scene.

Chasing me, giggling, to the top of this landscape of smooth plastic steps, my cousins were astonished to find I had seemingly vanished on reaching the summit. My lithe 7 year old frame had posted itself down a 2 foot square gap in the centre of the pile, a consequence of the way pallets were stacked by fork-lift, and I'd slid about 20 feet to the bottom of the shaft.

I was ok. Arms and bare legs scratched because of my little shorts and t-shirt combo, by the gap was so tight that my descent, though surprising, was not so rapid. After much laughter and reassurance, the older girls ran to get Uncle Gerard and a length of rope.

Alone in the tight dim space, my scratches are becoming increasingly tickly. Then my eyes adjust. I'm coated with house spiders. You saw that coming, didn't you?

They were in my long thick Irish curls. They were in my t-shirt. They were creeping up my shorts. Bare-foot I was stood in an sea of the bastards that had been pushed down by my fall. They were still absailing down into by upturned face, my ears, my nostrils, sticking to my tears. I kept my moth clamped shut. You know that dry crackling sound when you rip spiders web? Every movement I made.

I was alone and unable to move down there for the longest 10 minutes of my life. I don't remember my rescue, I must have blocked it out. There are photos of me being hosed down by my Auntie to remove them. None of my family laughs when the incident is recalled. It wasn't funny. Everyone was sicked with horror by me, haunted, wide-eyed and shaking, as adults, equally terrified of the things, tried to fight their fear of my thousand creeping, sticking passengers. No-one ran to hug the spider-child.

Apparently I did not open my mouth, not even to eat or drink, for almost two days. I did not speak for a week, catatonic, but screamed in my sleep. no-one played in the barn again, not even the boys.

I got over it, and maintain just a healthy mistrust of spiders. I don't like the hunch of their legs. But if I get a web stuck over my face....
(hahasnakes, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:26, 7 replies)

And another one
Not sure if it's a phobia, or just teeth-grindingly annoying.

Tannoys.

Or Intercoms, Paging, call it what you will.

"Bing Bong Garble Garble Krkkkk Click"

We've got one at work and whenever I hear the "BingBong" and then the recptionist putting on her poshest accent, rather than get off her useless dwarfed ginger arse for two frigging seconds, I want to go postal.

And I'm reminded of Nerys Whatsit and "Hello Campers".

Grr.

Ambling around Sainsbury's, its "Bing Bong Sullen 18 Year Old Trying To Sound Enthusiastic In Her Minimum Wage Existence About Price Reductions".

Double Grr.

Railway stations and airports. Why do they give people with no command of any human language, let alone English, access to the PA system? Herds of innocent travellers rush hither and thither like bewildered lemmings as they attempt to follow the instructions of 'the voice in the sky'. Just put up some bloody signs.

Grrrrrrr.


*She's bloody done it again*
(osok Rebel without a clue, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:26, 1 reply)

Dentists
This has probably been said and many more wil probably say it too. But it genuinely is the only thing I'm really afraid of and makes me weep like a girl when think of them.

I have to go to hospital in a couple of weeks to have a wisdom tooth torn from my face and when given the option of a general or local anaesthetic, I opted for local.... Why the fucking twatting cock did I do that?

I convinced myself that it can't be all that bad and that other people probably need a NHS bed for the day more than I do. But that moment of being noble and brave has worn off and I'm SHITTING MYSELF....
( BlueHaze Chutney. All good., Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:25, 1 reply)

Mannequins
When i was younger I used to be terrified of mannequins with their unblinking eyes, fixed facial expression and permanent stance.

I couldn't go near them or walk past them which was always amusing when mum had to take me shopping with her for clothes...

Still slightly freaked out by them now but not to the same extent although I recently saw an old episode of Dr Who where mannequins came alive so glad I never saw that as a youngster!

It looks like I am a seething mess of irrational fears!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:23, 1 reply)

Sponges
and pumice stones.

*rectum tightens*
(Bridger.S.Toilet, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:22, Reply)

Death.
That is all.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:16, Reply)

just thought of another
damage or loosing my teeth. I hate the thought of not having teeth one day - I even have nightmares about having a loose tooth and it comming out - makes me feel sick thinking about it. Its not the pain its just the fear of not having nice teeth anymore
( SiX and his hat, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:16, 2 replies)

Finger nails
To be precise, damaged finger nails; broken, badly bitten (stand up Mrs. Kite; guilty as charged). The thought of me losing one (or having to deal with one) fills me with dread.
Ugh
(kitescreech still here, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:13, Reply)

Humans....
....i bloody hate them.

Two eyes, two legs, two arms! Urghhhhh, make me cringe they really do.

Still, they're more afraid of me than i am of them, or so my Dad says.

Lots of love.

Incy Wincy....
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:12, Reply)

Spiders. Major freak out.
In particular, Huntsmans.

I have had several run ins with the hairy fuckers.

One morning, opened the laundry door to let the cat in, and I feel this thing, drop onto my head. No biggie, until it starts CRAWLING DOWN MY FACE!!!!!!!!!

Cue lots of screaming, swearing and crying at the top of my lungs for a good quarter of an hour. This was at 7 am so it was not a good start to the day. I refused to go in the laundry for a good week.

Another time, I was cleaning out the fish tank, and I took it outside to give it a good scrub. it's a bit glassy (as the normally are), so, me thinks, hmm, better get a crate.
So I goes and gets the crate and I'm halfway back to where I was, and I feel this thing running up my arm. I look down and there's ANOTHER fucking huntsman crawling up my arm.

Cue more screaming, swearing and crying and jumping up and down and running away.


I'm not very good with daddy long leg's either. they always seem to try and perve on me in the shower. Every time we have daddy long leg's in the bathroom, they drop into the shower, while I'm in it.

I'm not very good with small spiders either. I think this is because we have many red backs, white tails and smallish black widows. Not very good at all. I'm getting quite shaky now just remembering these events and facts.

I also hate hate hate the site of blood. It makes me shake and go really pale, and my stomach turns to ice which then floods through my veins. This will not help me in my endeavours to become a doctor I don't think .
(Poppet some assembly required., Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:00, 2 replies)

Fear
of intimacy and fear of commitment. I'm working on it and so is my crack team of mental health professionals.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 12:00, Reply)

Paper and paint
I think my 'Room 101' would have newspaper all over its gritty parquet flooring. Not just any old newspaper though, it would be liberally splattered with poster paint. I would then be forced to gather up said newspapers and stuff them into a small metal dustbin.

Pretty tame? I was forced to do this at the age of something less than 10 and the combination of the gritty floor, the dry newspaper, dry, painty hands and dry newspaper really set my teeth on edge and the hairs at the back of my adorable little head standing on end. The fact that I wasn't allowed out to play with my classmates until all the newspapers had been gathered up made it worse. Today, just the sight of dry paint on sheets of newspaper is enough to make me physically shiver (whoooerrrrrrrrgh - or sounds to that effect).

Also, CHCB's post reminded me of my aversion to 'Mull of Kintyre', it nearly led to me being sacked or beaten up by a bunch of northern yokels. Still, I told this story a while ago - probably under 'Restaurants & bars' or something so won't repeat it here.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:59, Reply)

'' givs m th hbi-jbis
Th lttr ''.

I sriously cannot bar th lttr ''.

It maks m go all swaty and I fl quit qur.

No-on blivs m, but it's tru.

Fortunatly I had alrady mad my b3ta usrnam bfor I bcam afflictd.

Unfortunatly my Fathr's nam is Drk, my Mothr's nam is iln and my Brothr's nam is Stv.
( insignificantsnivellinglittleturd I Like Peas, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:55, 7 replies)

Pens and pencils
I cant look at them when they are pointed directly at me. They suddenly become transformed from useful writing/drawing impliments into evil arrows of eye piercing death.
There was a short phase when i could only use thick blunt graphite pencils as this 'phobia' would inevitably induce inovluntary spazy blinking fits.

But i like playing darts....
(babyjak, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:55, Reply)

Glistening
I recoiled with such force that I momentarily left my soul a yard in front of me, and despite my soul having a very attractive although unusually hairy back, particularly up and down the length of the spine, I was glad to have it returned to my blackened innards.
“Be gone, foul wench of the sea!” I wailed, my voice stumbling and swooping gallantly over every vowel and massaging each consonant with its silken verbal fingers. She stood a Volvo’s length away from me but still managed to cup my testes in her cold palm. Her smile was ugly yet endearing. Her teeth dared me to withdraw my scrotum from her delicate grasp. But I dared not.

It was some hours later that I finally realised I had a phobia of mermaids. She remained on the floor, smiling up at me, her scales resting on the dampened concrete, her hand and my scrotum now in a state of thermal equilibrium. She put a brave face on but I could see she was drying out. It wouldn’t be long before she would need to return to the sea. Could I last that long? Could I contain my fear and all the trimmings? It was to be a great test.

I found that if I shuffled to one side she would pursue me and maintain her gentle scrotal support. It was the start of a journey I would never forget. I shuffled, inch by inch, all the way from Manchester’s Urbis building to Blackpool’s North Pier. The seasons came and went and came again, but finally we reached our destination. She smelled the sea and her grip relaxed. Still, we shuffled to the end of the pier. She glanced out to the briny horizon and gazed back at me lovingly. There was no doubt we had formed a bond. I stepped back, taking my scrotum with me. It fell from her fingers and slapped against my thigh. My testes were my own once more. Rediscovering my masculinity and overcoming my mer-fear, I hoofed her full pelt in the throat. She fell, flailing in a blur of hair, breasts and scales glistening and reflecting back a rainbow of beauty in the light of the setting sun, before plunging into the ocean.

She never resurfaced.

I stood there and shed a tear. I was swiftly joined by Gary Coleman who had enjoyed considerable fortune on the Hook A Duck nearby. He grasped his well-earned Crazy Frog proudly and peered down into the murky depths.
“Good work, motherfucker,” he chirped.
“Cheers, cock!” I howled back.
We kissed on that pier for what seemed like a decade, but was only in fact three days. My phobia was cured.
(stusut79, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:54, 3 replies)

There are a lot of things
I don't like, but my only actual fear is hight. I can't pissing stand hights - the sensation of being on a ledge looking over makes me dizzy and sick. I wish so much that I could stop this but I've get to find a way.
( SiX and his hat, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:50, 2 replies)

Latter day Micheal Jackson

"But you are not alone
For I am here with you
Though we're far apart
You're always in my heart
But you are not alone"

Get out of my head and out of my bed.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:49, Reply)

catching my
finger nails on material. Not exactly a massive phobia, just feels really horrid if I snag any jagged bits of finger nail on some material. The more woolly the worse it feels.

The end.

By Jethro Tull age 5 and a half
(JethroTull, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:49, Reply)

Blimps
Stealth blimps to be more precise. I've never seen one of course but just the thought of them creeps me out.

Imagine looking up at the sky and seeing this enormous, silent weird craft floating around looking menacing, Indepence Day-style. The size of a few football pitches and practically silent? Yeah, fuck that.

I had a nightmare about stealth bombers once too. Their harsh angles and the alien-ness of their appearance makes me anxious. I don't think I'd like to see one in the flesh.

In fact, all strange looking and/or massive weird aircraft I'm not keen on. That and gigantic waves.
(Crayola Oblongata Is it Monday?, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:48, Reply)

The Dark Crystal
Now I love Jim Hensons Muppets and Fraggles as much as the next puppetophile but when I watched the dark crystal when I was younger it scared the crap out of me!

Never has anything scared me more than that film and I can't even remember it now, I just remember the terror it instilled in me when I was younger...

Other things that scared me:
Listening to the Jeff Wayne war of the worlds aged about 6 and then everytime I heard a plane fly over the house or any other unidentifiable noise being shit scared and losing a load of sleep, it was horrible!

One time watching Granada Reports and the camera had a spider on the front, not so bad you think but it looked massive on our home TV, I sat at the top of the stairs ready to run away if it even slightly moved! Plus I'm shit scared of spiders at the best of times!

So more child fears than phobias, I suppose I should watch the dark crystal again to seeif it still scares the crap out of me
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:44, 5 replies)

PEAS!!
Nothing to me is as chilling, even hitchcocks finest spinetingling moments aren't a patch on the thought of the little green balls of pure evil. I feel cornered and suffocated when i enter a room and see a pan on the boil. i don't seem to remember where it stems from but everyone in my life seems to want to cure me or sneak a few here and there in my meals. Knowing how this pains me so, why would those close to me put me through such suffering?
(a7sinns i'd do anything for you dear anything....., Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:43, 1 reply)

Pantomime Animals
Have you stopped laughing now? Good.

The sight of a human masquerading as a misshapen, lumpy, ill-proportioned animal leaves me soaked in cold, panicky sweat; reeling with gut-wobbling horror.

No idea how this started; but sometimes when (at a street carnival for example) I see a mother patiently dragging her bawling, struggling infant closer to a 'happy tiger/rabbit/whatever' I think: Ah-ha.
Lady, can you not see this apparition through the eyes of your child? It's a fucking monstrosity.

No, I never pestered my parents to take me to Disney Land. Micky Mouse? Frankenstein's fucking lab-rat.

As an adult I have dropped all my shopping and nearly broken my nose running into a display window in Debenham's. What was I running from? The Tweenies.

I's the empty, moronic grin in their eye-holes. The fact that you can't tell if they are staring at you. The knowledge that in their role as *bringer of crazy-wacky-fun* they have no compunction about coming over and *touching you*. Shudder.

Street carnivals. Football mascots. Advertising minions. God-help-me: charity workers. Pantomine...

A great many of my friends at uni are in the light entertainment society. They do panto. They have props. I once opened a friends closet only to have *3* headless pantomime nightmares fall out on top of me. She kept them in a dark closet: way to compound the residual childhood anxiety.

Trigger Happy TV. If one of those costume stunts happened to me I would certainly have a shit-story for you guys. The though makes me sweat needles. I would have a stroke. I would become unhinged and die a slow undignifed death. Dribbling. I dream about this and wake up screaming.

There is not space on the internet to tell you how I feel about Furries.

Length? 7 foot tall and made out of diseased nylon plush.
(hahasnakes, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:41, 1 reply)

i know i'm not the only one to say this
but clowns creep me right out. they're not funny, they're evil.
also, porcelain dolls give me the skeeves. especially the ones with teeth! wtf???? they're freaky enough as it is, why give them TEETH?
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:39, 6 replies)

Giant Hogweed
I hate those things. I actually cross the road to avoid going near them. The leaves are huge and look like they are going to reach out for me and pull me into the midst of a big bunch of them and sting me to death. Think this stems (huhhhuhu) from the time I watched the trifids when I was a kid in my hometown of Paisley in Scotland.
(scotsbloke, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:28, 1 reply)