Toothbrushes....
Irrational yes... where it comes from unknown, is it making me feel weird just imagining the sensation right now, of course.

As everyone know however, it would be ridiculous to not brush ones teeth, especially because of my penchant for garlic things sugary and sweet and a liking for a good old tipple. I dont really know how I get over it every morning or night, but the actual act of teeth brushing doesnt seem to affect me... its just seeing them on tv adverts, expecially when the person rubs their finger over the bristles... the noises - shhhwwwshhh swswshhhhhh... Gross...

having to change the subject now... baby ducks quack.
(feedingtimeatthezoo day 1 of his bikini diet started, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 14:12, Reply)

No touchy!
I spaz out when people touch my neck, I once kneed a friend of mine in the bollocks when he tried to strangle me, he says he was just having a look at my new necklace. Lying homacidal cunt.
(chrisdood Why yes, I am the shizzle, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 14:03, 2 replies)

aarrghhh!
Where to start?
Remote controls not lined up (*shudder*)
The slimey seed bit in tomatoes (*biting my tongue now*)
Jelly - ergh! especially seeing it wobble or cold chicken with the jelly jammed in (*breathe, breathe, shudder - argh!*)
Being touched around the wrists (*breaking into a mild sweat now*)
Dog-eared pages (enough said)
People sniffing (and even worse, wiping their nose on their hand - blergh). Get a bloody tissue and stop being a pig!
Hair sticking out of moles on people's face/neck. No excuse.

Valium please.
(Kathleen, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 13:59, 1 reply)

The Plague
Back when I was very young, I had this very bad dream, and one of the bad people in this bad dream was wearing a plague mask.

One of These Horrific Things.

And ever since, they've been my only fear. Googling those images has scarred my very soul. Seeing one in real life- which only happened once, in a museum somewhere- terrified me, I actually had to leave the exhibit and seek "safety" elsewhere. I chose to sit amongst the dinosaurs while my friends read about the Plague.

Irrational? Probably. But I don't care, they just terrify me.
( Thinker, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 13:14, 6 replies)

Toe socks
The ones where each toe goes in its own little holder.


(edit: also, flip-flops)
( admiral crunch holds the newsreader's nose squarely, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 12:52, 2 replies)

EELS!
I have an irrational fear of:
A) Eels. Ever since one was patently trying to escape from its tank and come after me at Gt Yarmouth SeaLife Centre (no it was, trust me) I can't face the bleeders. My ex fiance does a seriously scary eel impression which used to make me scream and run away from him. So obviously he did it a lot for amusement value.
B) Needles - I faint EVERY time I have to have an injection or a blood test, my fainting is so spectacular I have to tell my doctor's surgery I'm a fainter so they book a double appointment. The nurses all know me by name now. Great!
C)Hospitals - I hyperventilate and feel hot, sick etc if I have to go in one. Not good when I have aged relatives who are always in and out of the damn places. My mother thinks I am over-reacting when I say I'm going to faint.
D) Pigeons / birds in general - ewww, minging. Ever since I saw that Alfred Hitchcock film I can never trust a bird - it's all in their evil, beady eyes.
E) Mr Herbert from Family Guy - makes me squeal and shudder he's so unpleasant.
Apols for length.
(SpongyMonkey is an honorary East Anglian on, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 12:22, 1 reply)

Ainsley Harriott
He gives me the absolute and utter fear. I have no idea why this is, but it is real and palpable.

If he is on the TV I not only have to switch it off, but need to leave the room for at least half an hour. His evil "cheeky" grin and mad staring eyes remain in the ether, you see.

Another vile, vile thing is when you put on a fleece and the skin on your hands is a bit dry... it sort of grates. Yikes! In winter I carry moisturiser wherever I go.

*shudder*

Apart from that I am completely* normal


*conditions apply
( Strangey is present at, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 12:12, 1 reply)

I
Have a fear of apeloverage posting an actual story.

Makes me shake like a parkinsons victim in a walk in freezer.
(Good Looking Deity Grew a magnificent beard on, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 11:23, 1 reply)

I went shopping
to buy a coat and couldn't bring myself to buy one with oversized buttons due to all the button phobics on here... :(
(starial, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 11:04, 1 reply)

my biggest fear is a pretty run of the mill one.
Needles. Can't look at them, touch them, have them near me or even talk about them. Seeing them one the tv makes me queasy When I have to have injections, I get worked up beforehand because I know I'll have a panic attack afterwards. I get horrible roaring in my ears, go really light-headed, my vision goes black and I hyperventilate. Worse case scenario, I'll faint.
This stems from I think the meningitis jab I had when I was ten. I was fine before, during and after, whilst everyone else was freaking out, and then 15 minutes later, for no apparent reason, I fainted. I stood up to tell the teacher I had a headache, and next thing I remember, I was lay on the floor.
For the BCG (I so nearly didn’t have to have it, curse that last dot!) I scared the living daylights out one of the hardest lads in my year at school when he pointed somebody out to me afterwards and I told him I couldn't see anything. I then refused to have the Diphtheria, Tetanus and Polio jab in school, so my mum had to make a secret appointment at the doctors and spring it on me when I least expected it. I still had to be dragged in.
Its one of the reasons why I realised I'd make a terrible doctor. And yet, I'm still getting a tattoo this year as a present to myself on my 18th. No, I don't understand it either.

As an apology for length and lack of humour, I'll tell you about my second biggest fear.

I love horror films, can't get enough of them, and I love being scared. However, the only film I've never been able to sit through, and gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it now:
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Old and new versions. Scares the living daylights out of me. I don’t like mannequins, or ants either, but that film would have me curled up in a corner whimpering and covering my eyes. Last time I saw a small bit of it, I had nightmares for weeks.

Although, unlike most people, I really like spiders, heights and small enclosed spaces.
(Applebite Uh! A cow!, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 11:04, 1 reply)

Paper towels.
Not all of them.
Just the ones we had back in primary school.
They were this sort of deep turquoise and mnghghrrfffrfghghh....

Thinking about them puts a shiver down my spine and makes my mouth sort of spasm, suck it self inward and make strange noises as illustrated above.

Awful business. They were like a dry flannel but really thin and a bit more papery.
And now that I've started thinking about them I can't stop.

Mrnngfghhgfnnff.

I imagine that Satan wipes his bum with them.
(Good Looking Deity Grew a magnificent beard on, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 11:02, 2 replies)

Masks
Masks on their own are quite tolerable. I have a lovely Venetian carnival mask of a smiling lady that I think is cheery and sweet. Any other mask, however, is definitely sinister and scary.

With horror movies, I am absolutely bricking it until the masked protagonist is revealed. Slasher movies I can cope with - gore just makes me bored - but put a mask, no matter how innocuous, on a character and I'm gibbering like a monkey. Perhaps it was too much Scooby Doo in my youth. Once I know who is under the mask my fears subside.

But what's scarier than masks? CHILDREN IN MASKS. Sweet suffering mother of Christ! I never did get to the end of the Doctor Who "Empty Child" episode.

So, did the people who gave me rave reviews of The Orphanage warn me that it may contain scenes of masked children? No. No they did not (yeah, thanks a frickin' bunch, Enzyme). I left the cinema in a state of heightened anxiety and had to return to an empty house where I just knew that there'd be a masked child standing, alone on the landing, silently waiting for me to walk upstairs.

Holy crap, I'm scared of everything.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 10:11, 4 replies)

Silly Phobia I
Cockroaches.
Disgusting, filthy things - the only animal on God's green earth I think He may have mad a slight error of judgement with (as in, why make the beasties in the first place?)

I have been known to recoil in horror, dance around the kitchen and scream for Legless when I see one.

I don't like squashing them (not too keen to see cockroach guts on my floor), and makes my skin crawl to think where they get to at night, when I can't see them (on my clothes, bedding, plates - arrrggggghhhh!!!)

Until recently, we had a rent-a-cat stay with us for a fortnight (wandered in one night and parked on the couch) - the cockroaches knew their time was up and they packed their bags - but he's gone now (?lost) and the little bastards are back . . .

However, I now have a secret weapon . . .








On Wednesday, I'm picking up the latest in cockroach-fighting technology:











6 months old, abandoned. She has no name as yet - any suggestions?
( Mrs Legless . . . belongs to, well, you know . . . :), Sun 13 Apr 2008, 4:55, 19 replies)

Oooh oooh!! I've got a few stories for this QOTW . . .
The first involves my little brother (who is 29 and taller than I, so not so "little") . . .

Little brother is scared stiff of needles - all types, and tends to faint when faced with one.
A few years ago, he decided to go to the blood bank with his then GF (now wife - and they have a veery cute baby girl, 3 weeks old!!).

"I can do this" little brother thinks; "it's been "months" since I felt queasy at the sight of sharp metal pointy instruments."

So he seats himself on those couchy-things and waits for the large-bore needle that's usually shoved into your cubital fossa by the friendly blood-bank nurse.
Surprisingly it all went well - little brother looking to the side while sharpie went in.
Fast-forward about 20 minutes, where the requisite 450mL (or so) has been collected. Needle is out - "didn't feel a thing!" quoffs my now-cocky brother. He has conquered his phobia - life is good!!

He then slides over the couch to get into an upright position, and happens to glance at the bag'o'blood next to him (freshly collected, tubes and clamps still attached).

Oops - he doesn't feel to good. His face turns an interesting shade of green. Floor meets body with a graceful swiftness . . .

I believe he did get his cup of tea and a biscuit, but it was suggested he not donate blood again . . .

Oh yes - to be fair, I have a couple of rather silly phobias, so Theo won't be the only one to cop it this QOTW . . .
( Mrs Legless . . . belongs to, well, you know . . . :), Sun 13 Apr 2008, 4:37, 2 replies)

Ohh here's another one!
Wasps.


When I was a very young wee lass who loved to play out doors and get filthy, I used to play outside, in the little courtyard filled with dirt next to the lane.

Now this was the day after my third birthday, so I was wearing a new pretty dress. I was merrily playing in the dirt when I fell over. And I could hear this hummmmming sound. and then Oh my GOD the pain. I had a swarm of European wasps stinging me, though and underneath my clothes.....


Bees and wasps = screaming and running into the nearest house/shop to hyperventilate. Hate them.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sun 13 Apr 2008, 4:08, Reply)

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia

FUCKING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
( Muns, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 3:20, 2 replies)

Far from being a personal fear.
One poor lady came to cover our receptionists maternity leave with a severe case of Bathmophobia, the fear of stairs. She was supplied by the temp agency and upon seeing what for all purposes is a quite ordinary set of stairs, froze. She couldn't bring herself to even consider climbing them.

I was in one of the back offices at the time of the tour when it happened and it raised a smile. Half an hour later when the HR woman popped in to let us know that the supplied temp couldn't work under the conditions (Shit ventilation and air conditioning I always thought were slightly more pressing that the method used to get off of the ground floor... but hey ho...) I found out that before leaving she was in need of a number one.

Apparently the poor fucker pretty much pissed herself on the spot when she found out that the bathroom was on the first floor!
( Muns, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 3:20, Reply)

Lepidopterophobia
That's right. I'm terrified of butterflies and moths. I can't even be in the same room as one.

When I was a kid, one of my cousins told me some scary story involving butterflies, and ever since then I've had this irrational fear of them.
The weirdest part? Neither myself nor my cousin remember the original story.
So I'm afraid of butterflies, and I don't even know why.
(Betsy Braddock Thee before thine, except after thou., Sun 13 Apr 2008, 2:46, Reply)

Oh I have a few. Some of them original.
I don't have an issue with spiders, I was told by my dear mother that the Daddy Long Legs (also known as Pholcidae, thanks Wikipedia) aren't venomous, and tarantulas always held a certain fascination for me. But the cockroach makes me squirm.
We had a dog, but no doggie door, so we'd leave the sliding glass door open for in evenings. An open door is an invitation to moths, flies, spiders, and cockroaches to crawl in and take refuge in your house. Then crawl up your bedsheets or live in your bathroom. The sink of your bathroom, huge and hidden, except the antennae which stick out. I'm not a screamer, but I do freeze up and ask other people to squish 'em for me.

Also, I don't like turning my back on an open oven. I don't know where it stems from. Maybe an ovenmonster will grab me and drag me in. jibbli-jibbli-jiblli.
(The If has remembered this site., Sun 13 Apr 2008, 1:28, Reply)

Gather round for story time, boys and girls
So one night I decide to head out to the local club for a little dance and a bit of booze. Seeing as it was a chilly Saturday in November, I decide to try out a new hat I'd gotten recently. It was cozy, covering most of my head, although it chafed the sides pretty badly, very tight fit.

When I got to the club, they had a terrible selection of drinks; regardless, I picked my preference and got a bottle of Carlsberg. Went to mingle on the dance floor when one of the fellow dancing blokes knocked the bottle clean out of my hand, sent it sloshing all over the floor. He apologised to me and offered to get me a replacement drink. I accepted and instead got a pint of Carling.

Barely had I taken a couple of sips from my fresh glass when some other pisshead bumped into me, causing me to wear about eight fluid ounces of lager down my front. Rush to the loo, plenty of paper towels to soak it up; by now, my hat was really bothering me so I took it off and splashed some water on the irritation, then went back out. Again, the perpetrator is guilt-ridden and doles out some cash to get me another beverage. I decide to play it safe and got a can, rather than an easily spilt/broken glass or bottle. This time I chose Heineken, my options slowly dwindling.

I got about halfway through this time, starting to feel a little satisfied with my accomplishment. Complacently, I placed it down on the table and went to have a little dance and spread the new boozy scent of my clothes amongst the other patrons. On my way back, I see one of the bar staff collect my drink, pour the contents into the sink and toss the empty cylinder of aluminium into the bin. I mention that I hadn't finished refreshing myself with it, and once more, I get plenty of sorries and he provides me with a half of Stella, their last option.

This time, I managed to keep hold of it until the glass was empty.
So once my drink was gone, I decided I should go home and get out of my damp gear. I checked the tenderness caused by my headgear, applied some moisturising cream on it, and went to bed.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I got my ear-rash-an'-all four-beers
(LLamaBoy skived off work on, Sun 13 Apr 2008, 0:24, 8 replies)

BBC
When I was about 5 or so, I had a habit of getting up really early (like 5am), going to the kitchen to find whatever I could to eat (once settling on cat food, but that's a story for another time...), then going to the front room to watch TV.

Almost always, the TV had been switched off the night before tuned into BBC 1. Being that it wasn't a 24 hour channel back then (is it now? *shrugs*) there would be this still frame of this girl writing something on a chalkboard, and this clown sitting next to her, with this eerie high pitched noise.

I don't know what it was about it, but it used to make me absolutely white in fear...

I just looked for the picture on Google Images, and the feeling of apprehension before finding the correct image was amazing :)
(Dracia flailed on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 23:42, 7 replies)

Playschool & orange peel
When I was about 3 or 4, I was utterly terrified of when the presenters of the well known childrens programme Playschool would dress up as chickens or whatever to tell a story. I'm writing this with a grimace on my face thinking about it :( I thought they'd actually changed into chickens or farmers or scarecrows. Bleugh.
Nowadays, I have to exit my bit of office when a certain colleague bites into an unpeeled orange or banana in order to get the peeling process started. Once again with the grimacing, accompanied by a few "eurghs" for good measure.
( Whodathunkit, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 23:28, Reply)

McDonalds.
Am I the only person who has an urge to vomit when someone says "I'm lovin' it!"

I once had to restrain myself from punching my friend in the face when he said it, in a camp northern accent.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 23:14, 2 replies)

Wasps. Fucking wasps.
When I was a wee lad, i was drinking a lemonade on a terrace in the only manner a 2 year old knows.
As one would expect, my face was full of the stuff.
Enter one of those striped bastards from hell, flying straight into my gaping mouth, stopping me mid-sentence.
Cue total panic as this vicious pest started violently stinging the inside of my cheek, while I flailed helplessly.
One of my mum's friend, thankfully, was a quick thinker and got the little cunt out by smacking me sharply on the head.
Ever since, even the faintest buzzing of the non-bee variety is enough for me to send me running away from any food source, whimpering like a little girl with my hands clasped over my mouth.
Some people find this very comical. Cunts.

(yeah i know, not very innocent)
(Caustic Armadillo consists at least 30% out of custard, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 23:10, Reply)

Spiders.. again
I know spiders is in every other post but i seem even be able to tell when the little buggers are near me without even seeing them. I try to have the i'll leave you alone if you leave me alone relationship but it doest work. Ill be laying there in the dark trying to get to sleep and all of sudden i get this feeling. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up, or whatever the hell it is, so ill turn on the light and yep theres an 8 legged little prick staring me in the face. Last time it happened one appeared on the wall above my bed. It clambered up my wall and proceded to do the whole spasticated im going to fall in your bed, im not going to fall in your bed, i am going to fall in your bed. After much bambi on ice shenanigans, although only in action and by no means cuteness, it got passed my bed and i thought i could finally and safely get some sleep. NO. It fell. It hit a picture. It landed IN my fricking bed. And an hour later when i finally found my pair of testicles, dealt with the problem, and climbed back in to bed...another one was waiting in the same spot.
(i dont get it tell them a badger got me, Sat 12 Apr 2008, 23:09, Reply)