Too Early?

I own a collection of imitation french alcoholic beverages.

...


Yes, I have faux-beers.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 19:58, 8 replies)

My Oven...

I know it sounds ridiculous…but I have a fear of my oven…or to be more precise, the rails inside the oven making contact with the tray thing that you put your spuds and wotnot onto (literal speaking here, I don’t dangle my delicate gentleman vegetables anywhere near something that could result in scorching thank you very much).

Anyhoo, when the tray and the oven get together they combine to create an eye-shattering metal-on-metal SCHREEEEEECH of such biblical proportions that it makes whatsisname from Jaws scratching his fingernails down a blackboard sound like gently stroking a fluffeh little kitten.

Of course, fortunately I’m way too much of a chauvinist wankspanner to use the oven much myself, but if I’m in the kitchen whenever the long suffering missus indulges in preparing the daily chow-down, I have to sprint a minimum of three rooms’ distance like my ears are on fire before she opens the oven door.

On the unfortunate occasions when I haven’t made it in time, my hands contort into claws, my neck disappears into my body and my teeth clench so hard that I’m sure one day my whole head will cave in on itself due to the pressure exerted.

People think that the reason I regularly fork out for so many takeaways etc is because I’m a fat, lazy cocksplinter who can’t be arsed to cook…Now you all know it’s actually due to my dark, secret phobia of the squeaky, screechy, squint-inducing horror of that sound.

So now you know – It’s all the oven’s fault.

(Well…..That’s my story and I’m sticking to it)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 19:55, 12 replies)

Most stupid phobia ever...
I'm not really scared of much. I'm fine with spiders, snakes, needles, death, heights and whatever else normal people are scared of. I even work with dangerous, crazy people who regularly try to attack me so I don't think I'd even be bothered about an axe weilding maniac (the maniac might actually be tamer than the people I work with...)
But for some reason I'm terryfied of ghosts. Especially when I'm alone and/or in the dark. Which I find really stupid because I don't even believe in them and if they were real I don't think they'd do anything to hurt me... It's just I'm terryfied at the thought of walking in my house at night and something suddenly appearing or grabbing me from behind. I blame the Grudge films... darn those Japanese and their scariness.
I need hugs :(
( Mellicious is made of candy, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 18:44, 2 replies)

Mirrors

I don't mind mirrors in peoples houses, but I HATE looking in mirrors in public. I think it's the thought of sharing a mirror with someone.. What's that all about?
(clusterfuck detesting 'length' jokes since, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 18:31, 3 replies)

Sound of silence
Anyway, since I was a young kid, I used to have this freaky fear of sounds. And I don't mean sounds like some kiddy songs, I mean sounds like radio static, distortions, twisted voices and stuff. Putting me in a dark room with a radio turned on to none of the stations, but static, might be the worse torture I could ever go through.


So, to begin the story; I got out with my friends, we had a couple of drinks too much so I went to my house to get some sleep. Since they lived further from the city than I did, and there we're no buses at the time, I've let them sleep at my place.
Since I was very hungover, I went to my bed and left them do whatever they want, as long as they don't disturb me...


The next thing I remember is waking up by a mix of hundreds of fucked up voices getting out of those speakers in my room (which were on the radio, possibly, a low freq. broadcast) at a very high volume. Attempting to make a distance between myself and that "music" those retards put up in my stereo, I accidentally fell of my bed and broke my arm (which is fine now).
Needless to say that I got rid of anything involving radio that has unmemorized and preset stations on it. As for the 'friends' they're fine now... I'm still planning some revenge though... any ideas?
(mumified, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 18:30, 3 replies)

I'm not afraid of heights...
...but I do get the serious colly-wobbles when I look up at very high things above my head. I'm fine and dandy when I'm up there, but standing on the ground staring up at them is just horrible. The Eiffel Tower is especially bad, as you can walk underneath the damn thing and gaze right up through the very workings of the metal monstrosity. Places like cathedrals have the same effect - "Ooh look at the lovely detailing on the ceiling" "Where? Oh f..... ".

Mrs Newell and I were thinking of having a trip to New York this year, a place not known for it's low-rise architecture.

And touching rough metal sets my teeth completely on edge. There's a film with Nicolas Cage in it where he has to use plastic cutlery, and David Caruso tortures him by making him eat off the proper steel stuff. Crap film but I know the feeling.

Oh, and wasps. But they're not so innocent. Guilty as sin in fact, the yellow and black bastards.

Not so much the length, but the height that's the troublesome thing ...
(ramrod_newell had his hair brushed at, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 18:30, Reply)

spiders, for all the usual reasons
spiral staircases(but not heights, they're fine) like thos efound in lighthouses or old castles, the tighter they are the worse it is
and recently getting into elevators, i don't know why but i'm convinced they could quite easily fall down the shaft and kill me at an moment, tihs is probably because i used a rickety old one, the sides and floor appeared to be made of cardboard, i'll just take the stairs for now.
(Just Harry What should I put here?, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 18:20, Reply)

The Daily Mail
Everyday, walking to the newstand I can't help but wonder what section of society it will make today's scapegoat - the working class, the mentally ill, immigrants, refugees from war-torn countries. And then wonder what figures it will pull out of its arse to try and justify that. Stuff like counting everyone that came here on holiday as immigrants. Or counting every working member of the country that legally claims child benefit as a benefit scounger.

What's scary about it is that someone might pick it up and take it seriously.
(Cuthbert Annihilator, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 17:54, 3 replies)

A real phobia of mine
Dancing.

Seriously.

I have lousy coordination to begin with, and have never had a good sense of where my body parts are in relation to one another. I am physically incapable of a simple cartwheel, I cannot dive, I can't stay on a skateboard... so dancing is out of the question.

Generally I make light of it. "Dance? Thanks but no, I really don't think you'd want me to do that. The last time I did, people called 911 and tried to keep me from swallowing my tongue while they shoved phenobarbital down my throat. It's very embarrassing."

But in truth, it's not a light matter to me. I really am terrified of dancing because I really do look like a fool when I try. Going to a club where there's dancing gives me Teh Fear in a very big way.

*sigh* No wonder I could never pull...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 17:08, 20 replies)

When I was a tiny little nadger sack
of around 11, there was a report in the local scandal-rags that some nut-case had sent a letter threatening to release dogs infected with rabies into the british countryside if he wasn't paid a ransom.

To an 11 year old with a vivid imagination who had recently seen "Cujo", this was slightly alarming.

Well, not slightly. Horror inducing, more like.

I spent probably about two weeks CONVINCED that I had been infected with rabies (I seem to remember thinking I could have caught it from a spider or from dog drool on the grass where I played football). The article had helpfully told me the symptoms, one of which was "restlessness". Which is also a symtom of being terrified that you have caught rabies, unfortunately.

During a maths test, I ended up crying in the sick room like a little baby sissy pants, but even then I knew if I said I thought I had rabies they would laugh at me, so I just said I felt sick.

Even now, just the word "rabies" makes me shiver a little.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 17:08, Reply)

This alien from the end credits of Star Trek

Used to terrify me, still does to a certain degree.

Really no real rational reason why, I know it's a puppet. I've watched some real nasty horror flicks etc and nout's come close. Except for E.T. Freaking glowy long neck bastard.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 16:26, 9 replies)

Similar to the post below
I've been thinking abut whether to put this for a few days.

Is it a phobia? Well..... it makes me extremely nervous. I often dread the idea of the situation arising, and when it does I do almost anything to avoid it, up to and including leaving the room. Sounds like a phobia to me!

Yes, I am also talking about talking to attractive lady types.

Drink doesn't help me. I am just as nervy and likely to blurt out the wrong things when drunk as when sober.

The more observant may be aware that I had a bit of a..... bad experience a few years ago. I was all but shackled from the age of 15 and when most youngsters were learning the art of attracting each other, I was learning the art of repelling lady-types to avoid getting an ear bashing. Cut to 11 years later, I get papped out in the street (as it seems I learned those lessons solo) with a big dent in my self confidence and a complete inability to act casual near a lady. Imagine that episode of Blackadder the 1st where he's pretending to be a homosexual..... that's what I feel like each and every time.

It doesn't help that every one of my friends are just constantly going out and knobbing anything that moves either. This often leads to the crippling embarrasment of being "introduced" to people they don't even know, with all too audible half-whispers of "get in about her" as they stumble off to have a dirty shag behind a bin somewhere, leaving me with the female equivalent of me standing there trying to look interested. Urgh. Not for me at all. No-one has any fucking morals these days but I'm ranting now.

My best friend is the worst offender. He literally walks into a nightclub, gets drunk, scans the room and systematically goes around any females in the area pointing at me and whispering in their ears. This has genuinely led to me hiding in toilets, as some of his selections are barely human, some of them are WAAAAYYYY out of my league and the remainder then obviously think I am some sort of retard.

All of this has led to a real fear of being in that situation. If I'm left alone and I'm allowed to get to know someone at my own pace, I do OK, you see, but all this "Nightclub/meet/filthy shag" business scares the shit out of me.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 16:12, 32 replies)

Dr. Who
Way back when I was a wee nipper, before work started boring me, I was absolutely fucking terrified of the daleks.
The theme tune to Dr. Who would come on, and I would hide behind the sofa crying and quivering while my brother and our uncle laughed at me :(

One day, my uncle (he's only a few years older than us) had the telly on, and the theme tune came on. Just as I leaped off the couch, my uncle said "It's ok, it's not Dr. Who. It's a new show called the Tom Baker Show"

From then on, I loved it.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 16:10, Reply)

Lager...
...specifically the non-alcoholic type, like Kaliber. Faux beers scare the bollocks off me.
(CaptainParalytic, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:58, 2 replies)

My own behaviour:
When in meetings. Proper, serious work meetings; I'm petrified of what I may do.

If asked a question I worry I might respond not with a coherent, sensible answer, but instead just mutter "minge" in the voice of Brian from Spaced.

Each time I take a drink of water I shiver at the prospect that I might gather a mouthful in my cheeks, then casually lean my head back and create a human fountain.

Worst of all; I dread that the person next to me will say something stupid and I'll unwittingly cuff them about the ear.

I've never done any of these things (I am 32 after all), but I'm scared that one day I'll catch myself out & be fired before I've even realised.
( Moey, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:53, 3 replies)

Urgh
BEES! They're getting fucking bigger every year and the BUGGERS DO STING even when you're not being threatening. Bastards. As with spids. They can bite, and they DO fucking bite, and anybody who says they don't can just go and consult any book about them. Just because YOU, the ALL-FUCKING-KNOWING hasn't been bit, it doesn't mean the fuckers don't. Trust me, I have been!

Also, I have a problem with other peoples' bodily fluids. My orthodontist spat RIGHT NEAR MY MOUTH today and I just HAD to wipe it off. I can't blame her; she's got an overjet, and I have one too, but it just gave me the fear!
Luckily, I said nothing, as this woman's kind enough to give me braces and such for free, but still! *shudders*
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:53, 1 reply)

Not really a phobia
But I can't stand that squeaky crinkling sound that a certain type of plastic wrapper makes. You know the type, werthers originals are rapped in it, as well as bouquets and some other types of sweets. It must emit some specific frequency which just causes me to cringe.
Does anyone know what I'm talking about?
(mesoiam Quote unquote "ultimate belt", Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:43, 2 replies)

This might sound awful..
But women(?) in burqas.

The full ones, with face-gauze, no bodily shape.. This kind.

I don't encounter them often, living in relatively rural Derbyshire. But when I do come across them, it's terrifying.

It's the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes, from an unknown face, on a body with no form. It could be anyone under there. And I just don't like it.

I had to deal with a burqa-clad member of the public at work once. The disembodied voice, coming from this figure that was only vaguely human-shaped, actually scared me. I hated it. I don't mind hijabs all that much.. it's just, concealed faces like that, in public places.

I guess this makes me an ignorant racist twat, or something. But this is my fear, and I don't even think it's all that irrational...
( Thinker, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:22, 17 replies)

Chatting to attractive girls
I'm sure allot of people have this phobia. Don't get me wrong of course, I really want to chat to attractive girls, I just can't do it for toffee unless i'm drunk, then I just come across as a drunk twat, rather than just a twat.

I kind of automatically picture myself making a twat of myself and then getting that look of "rejection", like the "get to fuck you strange person" look, you know the one?? Please say yes! (even if just to humour me).

I generally do end up with that look as I loose myself and never really know what to say, very sad indeed and something that I should hurry the fuck up and grow out of!!
( Firkinfedup last shat on your wife's tits at, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:16, 65 replies)

Not the Wombles, but
Dougal and the Blue Cat.

A movie offshoot of the Magic Roundabout series. The music used to freak me out.

For some reason, although the Magic Roundabout was good fun, the film was really creepy and sinister. I had a 7" single of a couple of songs from it, including Florence's Sad Song, and it used to give me the Fear.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:11, 3 replies)

Bondage? No, thanks...
.
Ever since I was small(er) I've had a phobia about being held by the wrists. To the extent that my watch-strap is loose enough to shake up and down my arm. I don't like anything tight round my neck either..

There are two theories why.

Boring theory: I was held this way by my mum while she dragged the knots out of my hair in the mornings. I had very long, fine hair and this was a long, painful process.

Preferred theory: Family legend holds that a distant ancestress was hanged as a witch. My granny used to swear I was that witch, reincarnated for another go at world dominance, summoning Lucifer, whatever you like. As a rather mischievous child, I frequently drove her to demand "What's that wee witch done this time?" whenever a loud noise was heard at family gatherings - hence the username. I was the youngest granchild of nine, so generally ended up getting the blame for assorted wrong-doings. My brother and cousins were faster thinkers (liars) than I was!

Incidentally, if you're ever in Edinburgh and go on one of the old town walking tours, at the start, they generally mention that 300 odd witches were burned to death at the top of the High Street (Castlehill). Resist the temptation to shout out "What, all at once?" I did this last summer when accompanying some visiting relatives, and the tour guide wasn't very amused. He then started pointing to various women and asking if they were witches. He really shouldn't have pointed at me - I agreed immediately that I am, indeed, a witch, and fair flummoxed him.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:07, 1 reply)

Spiders
I would say spiders but I am 31, live in Britain and not a retard.

Sorry but the only thing that scares me is hard work......ow and any life time commitment.
(CaptainSpunker, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:06, Reply)

Eating out
No, for once this isn't something metaphorical but something which irks me no end.

This can be the only explaination for the sort of behaviour that really ought to be outlawed, or at the very least have some kind of segregation enforced by restaurants and pubs; namely that new parents seem to inhabit a strange world where they're utterly convinced their new offspring aren't just the centre of their world, but everyone else's too.

A good many times I've been put right off my meal because someone two tables away insists on putting their small child right in my line of sight and loudly encouraging it while said child smears itself in ketchup and semi-masticated goo. Occasionally, you will be rewarded with twin rivulets of snot oozing down the cupid's bow and into the bratfink's mushed up facepack too, just to push your gross-out threshold to the very limit.

I'm adult enough to know that you can't lock the feckers in a cupboard while you go and eat out, but surely parents ought to consult the great gods of common sense once in a while?

It seems not, for I might be openly gipping on my roasted vegetable lasagne while said cooing parents find it utterly amazing how little Tarquin will happy sit there with a face covered in mucus and mushy peas and that they absolutely must share this wonderous sight with everyone else in the room too.

Okay, some places advertise themselves as "Child Friendly", which is a signal to me that it'll be an orgy of porridge and phlegm and thus I'll avoid at all costs. However, some folk feel it's their god given right to inflict the spectacle on everyone else.

Not only that, but having a small spoiled child screeching at a pitch that resonates right between your ears should be considered an offence too. A couple of years back I was in a restaurant which definitely wasn't of the child friendly type and had to endure the plaintive scream of a little Damien which objected to being made to eat roast potato. His siblings were charging all over the show like a pair of high performance banshees, ensuring that everyone else's peace was disturbed, meanwhile the parents looked on with what can only be described as the tiniest hint of gorm.

One can only assume that there must be a correlation between this type of behaviour and the urge to buy a massive, land yacht of a Toyota Wankah 4x4 which will never even see a B road in it's life.

Time to ensure that people must be made to gain a license before they're allowed to breed.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:04, 8 replies)

Wombles Part 3
In which I contend that - despite the outwardly fluffeh looks - Wombles are in fact the fur-clad incarnation of Evil... much like cats.

Cats are essentially Evil little bastards... we only like them because they look cute. Ever seen them casually stabbing a mouse with their claws? "oohh innee cooote. He's playing with the mouse" NO HE ISN'T... He's going to KILL it and he's just ENJOYING the moments of panic the mouse displays.

"They're collecting rubbish" NO THEY'RE NOT!!! they're putting the park wardens out of a job, and inadvertently converting Wimbledon common into a landfill!!

Orinoco is a dithering fool, Uncle Bulgaria seems nice (he's actually an incontinent stinky old git who "touches" the younger Wombles when he can), Madame Chaulet is nothing more than a filthy whore, and Tobermoray is the source of most of the annoying conspiracy theories.

Fox hunting should be banned, but Womble-Polo should be introduced to keep the horse-riding blood-thirsty gentry satiated.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 15:03, 2 replies)

Wombles part two
In which I contradict Humpty and all the other Wombles haters, and say that the Wombles were lovely.

However, on the subject of 1970s children's television that put the fear of god into you, my own particular shudder-inducing nightmare was a programme called the Animal Quackers. The premise of which was a bunch of animals (oh, alright, blokes dressed up as animals) would play (oh, alright, mime the act of playing) musical instruments. At the end of the show they would then be converted into cartoon form and disappear up a pole and bugger off.

Freaked me out big time, particularly the one dressed up as a big BLUE lion, and had a disproportionately large head.

Am I alone in remembering this? Or have the rest of you managed to suppress the memory, and I've just triggered nightmares for anyone living in the UK over the age of 35?
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:57, 7 replies)

Gah!
I have a phobia that I'll be unable to think up any more stories or even remember any interesting anecdotes from my life.


Bugger.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:50, 16 replies)

Those damned wasps again - but I have a reason!
So I hate buzzy flying things anyway. A silent fly is an irritation, a buzzing one creates raw fear. A buzzing one which violently stings administers nothing but sheer blood curdling terror!

Wasp Sting Number 1. I was a wee nipper, painting in school. When i suddenly felt something drop into my hair. I thought someone had flicked paint at me. So i go to pull it out and find a barely live wasp clinging on. It had just enough energy left to administer a lovely STING. ARGHHH!

Wasp Sting Number 2. Some years later. I get out of the bath and put my pyjamas on. A few minutes later I go to get my bag to do my homework. When all of a sudden STING!! ARGHHHHH. Right right right next to where the sun don't shine. I had no idea what was going off until i dived into the bathroom and one of the fuckers flew out of my long johns. For months afterwards I would have a frenzy fit of smashing clothes around the room and checking them before I put anything on.

Wasp Sting Number 3. Was in a shop one day buying something, put my hand in my pocket and suddenly STING ARGHHHH!!! One of those fuckers had crawled in there. I guess to try and steal my change.

Wasp Sting Number 4. Just walking back into work after a liquid lunch when all of a sudden STING ARGHHHH!!! WTF?? I felt my neck inflaming. 2cm from my wind pipe a wasp had dropped onto me and was on the inside of my shirt collor.


So yes I HATE them. They strike when you least expect it. Wasps arent confined to obvious places, like theme parks rummaging round bins. No! They come at you out of season, at night and in the comfort of your own home.

Watch out, Waspys about. Watch out Waspys about? You better watch out.. coz Waspys about!
(Miggyman, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 14:48, Reply)